Before I ever met Loretta, I thought every workplace had unwritten rules.

Keep your head down.

Don’t make waves.

Figure it out without making it someone else’s problem.

Then Loretta walked through the door.

She had no interest in fitting quietly into the corners we’d all learned to occupy. She wasn’t reckless. She wasn’t trying to start trouble.

She just refused to shrink herself to make everyone else comfortable.

Looking back, I don’t think Loretta changed the floor.

I think she exposed it.

**Names, locations, institutions, and identifying details have been changed or fictionalized to protect privacy. Some characters may be composites. These pieces are creative nonfiction based on lived experience, memory, and reflection.**

Loretta Kicked the Door In

Loretta was a whirlwind of a woman. Middle-aged Black woman straight out the hood, loud as hell, didn’t give a damn what you thought. I didn’t want her on my supervisor team. Hell, I didn’t even want her near it. She brought too much attention. Too much noise. Too much her.

She was the kind of person you hear before you see. Obnoxious? Absolutely. But she could collect. God, could she collect.

She became one of our top producers, grinding harder than most of the quiet ones who played the game safe. She wanted to be a supervisor, and I wasn’t about to hand that out easy. So I gave her goals—real ones, stretch goals. Thinking I was setting up a polite no.

She crushed every one of them. One by one. No excuses. No shortcuts. Just stared me down with that look that said, “Hey, fuckhead—I did it. Now what?”

She forced her way in. Like a damn stormtrooper. And you know what? I gave in. Not because I wanted to—but because she earned it. And once she was on my team, she wasn’t great… but she wasn’t bad either. She held her own. She fought for what she wanted and didn’t wait for permission.

That’s the dirty little secret of collections they don’t tell you during training.

They sell you on the money. The opportunity. The upward mobility. But if you’re a great collector? You don’t get promoted.

You don’t get off the phones.

Why? Because great collectors make money. They’re rare. Average supervisors? A dime a dozen. Replaceable.

Loretta didn’t care. She kicked the door in anyway. But the hood came with her.

The floor was full of personalities, but every once in a while someone arrived who changed the energy of the room without asking permission.

Loretta was one of those people.

Working the Floor is an ongoing Bent But True series about collections, survival, burnout, dark humor, and the remarkable people who somehow found each other under fluorescent lights.