Terrible Advice From a Career Temp- Chapter Ten: Let Your Work Speak for Itself

It took only six years for Don’t Quit Your Day Job Staffing Temp/Gigs or Day Job Gigs for short to become a quiet fixture in the community. If someone needed extra money painting houses over Spring Break or plowing snow at two in the morning until a storm finally gave up, Day Job Gigs was there. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was honest, flexible, and dependable—much like Piper herself.

The company survived on simplicity. Piper’s office was small, tucked above a bakery that always smelled faintly of cinnamon. Most of her work was done remotely, her laptop balanced between spreadsheets and coffee cups. She paid herself just enough to cover her bills, saving the rest carefully: a cushion for emergencies, a month of payroll in case a contractor ever came up short. After her breakup with Brody years earlier, Piper had promised herself she would never again feel financially trapped or emotionally cornered. Independence, she’d learned, was a form of peace.

Sofie and Benny were thriving in their rent-to-own home, Benny steadily building sweat equity with leftover construction materials from his jobs. The house was loud and full—kids racing through hallways, Dena’s laughter echoing from the kitchen. To give everyone more space, Piper had bought the small back lot and parked her retro RV there. It was cozy, bright, and entirely hers. Her cats roamed freely during the day, weaving between the two homes as if they owned the property. The arrangement gave the family room to breathe while keeping them close. It was imperfect in the best way: practical, loving, and sustainable.

When Hawk’s name suddenly filled the news during his run for a seat on the Central California district council, Piper watched from a distance. His wife, Holly, had filed for divorce just weeks after announcing his run in the election, and Piper—along with a few other women—were mentioned in the paperwork. The headlines were sharp and hungry.

At first, there were side comments between folks when she was at work. Side eyes here and there, but when the news went national, Piper had to stay at home while Sofie, Dena, and Smol handled the reins of Day Job Gigs. She was still dodging random phone numbers when, out of nowhere, Hawk called.

His voice was the same as ever, smooth, warm, like a blanket she had forgotten she missed. He asked her to do an interview with a podcast owned by someone he trusted, to set the record straight. Piper hesitated. Public attention had never interested her, and she had turned down interviews before, even knowing they might help her business. When she asked what he wanted her to say, Hawk surprised her.

“Anything,” he told her gently. “I never owned you. I never could.”

Piper agreed to one interview—just one. The host was direct, asking why she had been labeled a mistress. Piper calmly explained that she and Hawk had dated briefly before his marriage and had remained friends afterward, their lives gradually carrying them in different directions. When asked why they hadn’t stayed together, Piper answered honestly. They could have run away and built something dramatic and sweeping, she said, but the everyday rhythms never fit. She loved her slower life in Northern California, her family, and her small business. Hawk thrived in motion and ambition. Neither was wrong; they were simply different.

The final question lingered in the air: if she could go back, would she choose to be with Hawk again?

Piper searched her heart and smiled softly. No, she said. Hawk loved his wife, and she believed they had been happy. What she wanted most was for them to find their way back to a partnership strong enough to raise their children well. Love, she had learned, sometimes meant stepping aside and wishing someone peace.

The interview shifted the public tone. Hawk was no longer painted as a villain but as a complicated, human figure. He still lost the election, but in the quiet that followed, he and Holly began the careful work of reconciliation for their children’s sake. When Hawk called to thank Piper, his voice carried relief.

She told him she was glad she could help without turning his turmoil into her opportunity. The modest revenue from the interview was enough to start a retirement account—something she’d put off for years—and it hadn’t disrupted the business she’d built with such care. When she asked what he would do next, Hawk laughed and said he’d run again someday. Piper believed him. His ambition would always carry him forward.

When they hung up, Piper felt a gentle gratitude that their paths no longer needed to intertwine romantically. She admired his drive, but the life he chased wasn’t the one she wanted. Her dreams were quieter and already sitting around her.

With her new savings, Piper bought a sturdy desk and a chair that didn’t creak every time she leaned back to think. Smol, now old enough to understand invoices and scheduling, began helping after school, proudly calling herself Piper’s go-to. Sofie and Dena joined the payroll part-time, turning the tiny office into a cheerful hub of shared effort and inside jokes.

On a warm evening, Piper sat outside her RV, listening to the distant hum of family life from Sofie and Benny’s house. The cats stretched lazily in the fading sunlight. Her business was steady. Her family was close. She had carved out a life that fit her exactly—small enough to manage, large enough to matter.

For the first time in a long while, Piper wasn’t reaching for something just beyond her grasp. Everything she had worked toward was already here, settled gently in her hands. And as the sky deepened into dusk, she realized with quiet certainty that her hopes, once scattered and uncertain, had found their way home.