Graduation felt like the beginning of everything. After years of late-night study sessions, unpaid internships, and endless group projects, I was finally stepping into the next chapter of my life. Even better, I thought I had my future secured—thanks to a promise from my mentor, Daniel.
Daniel wasn’t just a mentor; he was like a second father to me. We’d met during my junior year when I interned at his consulting firm. He’d taken me under his wing, showing me the ropes and encouraging me every step of the way. By senior year, he’d looked me in the eye and said, “When you graduate, there’ll be a spot for you here.”
I believed him.
The Promise
Throughout my final semester, Daniel and I stayed in touch. He told me not to stress about the job hunt, that my position was already waiting. “Enjoy your last months of college,” he’d said. “You’ve earned it.”
So, while my friends were frantically sending out résumés, I was imagining my first day at the firm—my own desk, my own clients, my first real paycheck.
The day after graduation, I went to the office for what I assumed would be a quick formality—signing the paperwork.
The Contract
Daniel greeted me warmly, handed me a leather folder, and told me to “look over everything before signing.” I sat down in the conference room and began to read.
It didn’t take long for my excitement to fade. The role was nothing like the one he’d described over the past year. Instead of joining the consulting team, I was being hired as an “administrative associate”—essentially a receptionist. The salary was barely above minimum wage, and the contract included a six-month “probationary period” where I could be terminated without cause.
The worst part? A clause that said I’d be expected to work “flexible hours,” including nights and weekends, without overtime pay.
The Shock
I flipped through the pages again, thinking I’d misunderstood. This wasn’t the career-starting role I’d been promised—it was an entry-level job that had nothing to do with my degree or my skills.
When Daniel returned, I asked, “Is this the right contract?”
He smiled like it was nothing. “It’s just for now. Everyone starts somewhere. If you prove yourself, we can talk about moving you up in a year or two.”
A year or two? That wasn’t what we’d discussed. I reminded him of his promise, and he shrugged. “Things change. Budgets change. This is the best I can offer.”
The Realization
In that moment, I understood something: his promise had been more about keeping me hopeful—and useful—than actually committing to my future. He’d benefited from my work as an intern, but when it came time to truly invest in me, he pulled back.
I closed the folder and slid it back across the table. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t accept.”
His expression shifted, a mix of surprise and mild annoyance. “You’re making a mistake. Jobs aren’t easy to come by.”
“Neither is respect,” I said, standing up.
The Aftermath
Walking out of that office was terrifying. I had no job lined up, no backup plan. But I also had no intention of starting my career by settling for less than I deserved.
Over the next few weeks, I applied everywhere—networked, reached out to professors, even took a few freelance projects to make ends meet. Eventually, I landed an interview with a smaller firm that valued my degree and my skills. The starting pay was higher, the role was exactly what I’d been training for, and most importantly, the contract matched the promise.
Looking Back
I still think about that day in Daniel’s office—not with bitterness, but with clarity. Sometimes the people you trust the most can disappoint you the deepest. And sometimes, walking away from what you thought was security is the only way to find something better.
Final Thought:
Promises are only as valuable as the actions that follow them. Read the fine print—always—and don’t be afraid to walk away if it doesn’t match the words you were given.
