After the pandemic, I was told my job had been eliminated and I had no job to return to.
I was devastated because I had three children and a house to support.
Without a job, I was worried about ending up homeless, and I had to learn how to do something else. After a lot of deliberation, I took most of my savings and went to school for HVAC certification. Within six months I had graduated and was just waiting for my certification. While waiting, I was working for the local HVAC company and doing my ride alongs. The first thing the HVAC technician I was riding with asked me was how I was going to repair the air conditioning unit we were working on? He told me the symptoms and wanted me to diagnose it. I gave him the right diagnosis, but I also told him the AC unit couldn’t be fixed. He looked at me like he was questioning my decision. I explained that the air conditioning unit had been installed before the end of the millennium. That meant it was at least twenty years old. To repair this air conditioning unit would be like putting a bandaid on a severed artery. I would only be giving it a couple more breaths and the owner would pay for a repair and still need to purchase a new AC unit before the end of summer. He looked like he wasn’t sure about what I was saying, but then he smiled. He told me I could explain this to the owner of the AC unit, but he agreed with me.