08/24/2026
What will people say about you when you’re no longer in the room?
Sometimes, you don’t realize the impact you’ve had on someone until they tell you.
After working for over three years as a correctional officer in a maximum-security facility, I was preparing to close that chapter of my life. There was one particular housing unit I had never worked in, so a few days before my last day, I specifically requested a shift there. I simply wanted to experience every part of the facility before I left.
I had no idea that shift would give me a moment I would never forget.
While working in the unit, I heard someone call:
“Chestnut! It’s good to see you!”
I turned around and recognized him. I hadn’t seen him in a very long time.
After we exchanged greetings, he stopped me and said:
“Chestnut, I just want to thank you.”
I was confused. “Thank me for what?”
Then he said something that caught me completely off guard.
“You were one of the reasons I changed.”
He reminded me of conversations we'd had a long time ago. He talked about the things I had said to him and how I had spoken to him. He told me that my words stayed with him, made him think differently, and contributed to his decision to change his behavior.
The amazing part? I couldn't even remember saying those things.
But he remembered.
And that taught me something I will never forget:
People may forget the conversation you had with them, but sometimes the words you casually spoke become the words they carry for years.
Corrections can be a difficult environment. You have a job to do. There are rules to enforce, boundaries to maintain, and situations that require firmness.
But firmness does not require disrespect.
Authority does not require humiliation.
And someone's worst decision does not give us permission to stop treating them like a human being.
I learned that you can be firm and still be kind. You can hold someone accountable and still speak to them with dignity. You can maintain professional boundaries and still remind someone that their life can become more than their present circumstances.
You never know when you're planting a seed.
You may never see it grow.
You may even forget that you planted it.
But somewhere, someone may still remember.
That day, just before I walked away from my career in corrections, I was reminded that impact isn't always measured by what people say when you're standing in front of them. Sometimes it's revealed by what they say about you long after you've left the room.
So I'll leave you with this:
If someone you haven't seen in years met you today, what would they say they remember about the way you treated them?
