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Two years ago…
It was my last day working as a cashier.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAZnrVzGsJs
Six months had passed since I started at this small minimarket — six months of standing behind a counter, scanning groceries, and smiling at strangers. Not exactly the dream job for someone who graduated as an engineer.
But I wasn’t ashamed. I did it for my family.
My father, a soldier, died a hero when I was just eight. Since then, my mother had been everything — a mother, a father, and a silent warrior. She worked as a school cleaner, waking before sunrise and returning home long after dusk. Every day, she told me and my brother the same thing: “Be like your father. Be someone this country can be proud of.”
My brother followed that path — he joined the military university, determined to wear the uniform our father once wore. For me, it was different. I wanted to build things, to fix, to create — I wanted to be an engineer.
I studied hard, graduated with hope, and faced interview after interview. But every time, the answer was the same — “We’ll call you soon.”24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfxco0ppfRY
And that “soon” never came.
With my mother growing weaker each day, I couldn’t just wait. So I took the cashier job near our home, promising myself it was temporary. I believed — no, I knew — that one day I’d get the job I’d always dreamed of.
But there was another reason I wanted to prove myself.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPK31gzYZdo
A question that made people judge me.
Her name was Aruna — the girl I loved. We’d been together for three years when her father found out about us. One night, he called me to meet him. I went with respect, not knowing that his words would pierce deeper than any bullet.
He looked at me and said,
“A cashier? That’s your job? My daughter deserves better.”
That was the day I realized the world measures your worth by your title, not your heart.
It wasn’t the first time I’d faced rejection because of what I or my family did.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvqrfG645HX
After my father’s death, relatives slowly disappeared from our lives. My mother’s job as a cleaner became a reason for their silence. Even at school, when I was thirteen, my classmates mocked me for it. And when I worked as a cashier, the same judgment followed.
But instead of breaking me, it built me. Every insult became fuel. Every rejection became a reason to keep going.
I promised Aruna — and her father — that one day I’d become the man they believed I couldn’t be. That I’d earn the title Engineer… and then, I’d marry her.
Tomorrow, I had another interview.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9gTmtJtsEt
And this time, I was ready.
Present day…
Even now, waiting for Aruna after her work is my favorite part of the day. It’s my small routine — sipping hot teh tarik at my favorite mamak stall while the evening breeze hums through the streets.
Life has changed since then.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡij9Y9SzBmw
I’m now an engineer, working at a chemical factory just a few blocks away. After our marriage, this simple ritual — picking her up from work — became my daily happiness.
Next week, she’ll start her maternity leave. Three months at home, preparing for the arrival of our first child.
My mother passed away a few months ago. I wish she was still here to hold her grandchild, to see that her sacrifices weren’t in vain.
My brother? He’s a Major now. Every time I see him in uniform, I see my father’s reflection — proud and strong.
As for me, I’ve never regretted being a cashier. That was my first step — the first level of the game. And every lesson I learned there still guides me today.
Because to win the game of life,24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡavlM6JzKgF
you must clear every level.
and then Add to home screen.