I’ve worked at the same company in Monterrey for almost eight years. People here like to say time moves fast in the city, but stories tend to linger, like the smell of fresh coffee drifting through the streets each morning.
When I started, I was just another salesman knocking on doors under the scorching northern sun. Nobody really believed I’d last.
But I had something stronger than talent.
I had persistence.
And I had a reason: my son.
I didn’t want him growing up with the same struggles I had faced.
My name is Marco Herrera. I’m thirty-five now, and these days I lead one of the commercial teams in the company. Getting here wasn’t luck.
It was years of showing up before everyone else and leaving after everyone else.
Taking projects nobody wanted.
Traveling constantly when others preferred staying home.
And through all those years, there was one person who always supported me when things were falling apart.
My boss.
His name is Ricardo Salinas.
Ricardo is the regional director. He’s forty-two, and he’s the kind of man who commands attention without ever raising his voice.
Always well dressed.
Crisp shirts.
Simple watch.
Calm, thoughtful expression.