Frank’s Hard Work
Frank showed up at New Directions Men’s Shelter the day before his birthday in late June 2025 with a simple plan: stop moving so fast. He’d been working steady, long stretches in housekeeping and laundry, late shifts that bled into six days a week before the pandemic and still over forty hours after. The problem wasn’t the job. He always worked diligently and held a steady job. The problem was he drank heavily, partying his paycheck away until Friday came around and the cycle started all over again.
Rent was much less than his take home paycheck. On paper it should have worked. In life it didn’t. At New Directions, the rules were clear. Frank liked order. He’s the type who folds his shirts sharp-cornered and lines up cups in the New Directions kitchen in neat straight rows.
Frank’s incredible work ethic was soon recognized and New Directions quickly enlisted him as the kitchen steward. In the kitchen he became the guy who got there before the chef, sweeping, prepping, wiping down counters until stainless steel twinkles. He stayed all day unless someone told him to take a break.
There was talk of a next step, three months in the shelter program and then a move to the transitional apartments, where he could keep working and build a cushion. When the New Directions chef pulled him aside to ask if he’d be up for it, Frank obliged. The kitchen suited him: a place where clean edges mattered and rules weren’t personal, just necessary.
Faith carried the rest. Frank didn’t boast about willpower. He said he’d leave that part to the Lord and take things one day at a time. The proof lived in small moments, walking into the corner store where the soda cooler sat right beside the beer, paying for what he came for, and realizing later he hadn’t even thought about grabbing a drink. His girlfriend couldn’t quite believe it. “Did you even think to get a beer?” she’d ask. “Didn’t cross my mind,” he’d answer, surprised and a little proud.
The staff at New Directions noticed Frank’s determination. Jon, especially, direct, strong, the kind of person who told you the truth straight and wanted you to win. Will, too, who lined up opportunities and expected you to meet them. Their confidence in him mattered.
He carried reminders of why he had to. The night shifts followed by rough mornings, the drag of a tired body clocking in after too little sleep. The way money vanished when you were feeding a habit instead of yourself.
Frank’s goals have stayed consistent since coming to New Directions. Work hard for a year, save your money, move forward, not sideways. His girlfriend talked about marriage and a new start in Florida. He told her yes, but not yet. He wanted to arrive standing on his own feet, not anyone else’s. “I’m not yet where I want to be,” he said. “But I know I will be.”