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"MY MANAGER SAID I'D NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING — TODAY I'VE MORE MONEY SAVED THAN HIM" 👇 — "Charlie, do you honestly think you deserve a pay rise? Look at the state of you. Late deliveries, dirty uniform, and you've the nerve to ask for more?" That's what my manager said to me three months ago. In front of the whole depot. My name is Charlie Alfred. I'm 34. I live in Blanchardstown, Dublin. I worked as a delivery driver for a courier company. 7am to 9pm. Six days a week. I was taking home €1,150 a month. My manager, Mr. Kelly, sat in his heated office while I was out in the pissing rain. He was on €8,000 a month. And he thought I didn't deserve an extra €100. That night I got home after 10pm. Sarah, my wife, had already put our 4-year-old son to bed. She was sitting at the kitchen table, sorting through bills. — "Charlie, we've got €45 left for the rest of the month. And there's still 12 days." I looked at her. Looked at the table. At the photo of our wedding on the wall. I sat down and said nothing. What was I supposed to say? The next morning, the car wouldn't start. Engine trouble. The mechanic said: €600. I had €23 in my account. I rang my manager: — "Mr. Kelly, I need an advance. The car's broken down." — "That's your problem, Charlie. No deliveries, no pay." He hung up. I stood there in the middle of the street in Blanchardstown, staring at the grey sky. I thought of my ma, who worked 40 years in a factory and now gets a pension of €380 a month. I thought of my da, who emigrated to England for work and never came back. I thought of my son. "What the hell am I going to do?" That night I couldn't sleep. Sarah worked in a supermarket, €800 a month. Together, we were barely scraping by on €1,750. Rent for our one-bed flat: €650. Creche: €280. Electricity, heating, food, bus fares... There was nothing left. She fell asleep on the sofa, exhausted. I went out to the balcony for a smoke. I took out my phone. Facebook. Instagram. All th
