Six years ago, I helped my college roommate Alyssa when she was struggling financially, paying more than $900 for her food and basic needs. Years later, the company I worked for closed, leaving me unemployed. Knowing Alyssa had built a successful small company, I approached her and asked for an interview. Instead of helping, she laughed in front of her staff and said, “We’re not a charity! I don’t hire failures!”

I left humiliated, never expecting what happened next. Two days later, Alyssa called me in tears. Her biggest client had learned how she treated me and threatened to cancel their contract. The client was a woman I had worked with for years at my former company—and I had personally recommended Alyssa’s business to her when she was looking for a new company to work with.

The client confronted Alyssa directly: “The woman you just called a failure is the reason you have my account. If that’s how you treat people who helped you, I’m taking my business elsewhere.” Suddenly, Alyssa was facing the possibility of losing everything. Desperate, she offered me a job. I almost refused, but ultimately accepted—not because she deserved my help, but because I deserved the opportunity.

Today, I’m the head of operations at Alyssa’s company, and that same client meets with me every Friday. Alyssa never mentioned the $900 I once spent helping her, but she knows the truth: her biggest account entered her company because of me and nearly left because of how she treated me. She didn’t hire a failure—she hired the person who built the bridge she was standing on, and whom she nearly burned.