I never planned on building my career in the labor movement. In fact, when I first walked into that bar on the west side of Cleveland looking for work, I just needed a paycheck. I was twenty-something, with a few bills piling up, and no real sense of direction. The bar job wasn’t glamorous—long hours, late nights, and the occasional difficult customer—but it kept the lights on.

At first, I didn’t know much about unions beyond the history lessons I’d half-paid attention to in school. Then, some of my co-workers started talking about organizing. Management had been cutting hours, messing with schedules, and ignoring safety concerns. People were tired of being treated like we were replaceable. One night after closing, a few of us met up to talk about forming a union. I figured I’d just sit in, but the more I listened, the more I realized this was about more than just our jobs—it was about respect.

We went through the process together. It wasn’t easy. There were meetings in basements, late-night phone calls, and some tense moments with management. But when the day came and we won our union election, it felt like we’d done something bigger than ourselves. Suddenly, we had a voice. We had a contract. We had the ability to stand together and protect what we’d fought for.

That experience lit a fire in me. I started getting more involved, attending union meetings, learning from older members who’d been through decades of struggles and victories. I realized there was an entire world of people who’d dedicated their lives to fighting for working folks—and that I wanted to be one of them.

After a few years at the bar, I made the leap and took a job as a union organizer. My workdays went from pouring drinks to knocking on doors, listening to workers in warehouses, factories, and job sites talk about the same challenges I once faced. I saw my own story reflected back at me over and over: people just trying to make a living, support their families, and be treated with dignity.

Organizing was hard work, but it was the most meaningful thing I’d ever done. I wasn’t just working for myself anymore—I was working for hundreds, sometimes thousands, of people. Every campaign, every contract fight, was a reminder of why I’d joined in the first place.

Eventually, I was offered a position as the apprenticeship coordinator for our union. It felt like everything had come full circle. Now I get to help train the next generation—people who, like me, might have started without much direction but who are ready to learn a trade, earn a living wage, and build a career. I see the pride in their faces when they complete their training, just like I remember the pride I felt the day we won that first contract.

The union didn’t just change my working conditions—it changed my life. It gave me a purpose, a community, and the tools to help others find theirs. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.