My name is Rosa Martinez, and I’m seventy-eight years old. I’ve worked the night shift at the Fresh Market grocery store for twelve years, pushing a mop from 10 PM to 6 AM, six nights a week. The pay is minimum wage, the benefits nonexistent, but it keeps my lights on and sends a little money to my granddaughter in college. I’ve dealt with rude customers, ignored greetings, and the quiet humiliation that comes from being invisible. But until that night, I’d never been hit…..CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
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