Jasmine Reynolds had learned to navigate the complexities of life with grace, even if it meant waking up each day at 4:45 AM in her small apartment in East Oakland. The alarm buzzed relentlessly, pulling her from the warmth of sleep. For a fleeting moment, she wished for five more minutes of rest, but reality quickly took over. She had bills to pay, dreams to chase, and a mother, Eleanor, who depended on her.
At just 24 years old, Jasmine had already assumed the weight of responsibilities most of her peers couldn’t fathom. She was working at McDonald’s on MacArthur Avenue, a job that had been her lifeline for nearly two years. The uniform she wore — red and yellow — had become a symbol of her dedication, but also of the dreams she couldn’t quite reach.
Before leaving for work, she peeked into her mother’s room. “Mom, I left your medicine in the kitchen,” she whispered. Eleanor, struggling with rheumatoid arthritis, found comfort only in her sleep, and Jasmine did her best to keep the burdens of daily life from weighing too heavily on her mother.
Her mornings were always the same: two buses, 40 minutes, and the occasional mental review of the accounting notes she studied at Oakland Community College. Every page of her textbook brought her one step closer to her dream of opening a catering business for sporting events. But in the meantime, her reality was the same — long hours at McDonald’s, where the customers came and went, indifferent to the fact that she was trying to build a better life for herself and her family.
The day began like any other. At 6:30 AM, Jasmine greeted her coworkers with a weary smile and settled into the usual rhythm of the morning rush. Richard, the manager, called her to cover the drive-thru when Tiffany called in sick. No pleasantries, no thank you. Just another shift, another set of demands.
By noon, Jasmine found herself mentally calculating the 15% rent increase that was soon to hit her already tight budget. It was the kind of thing she couldn’t ignore, but she couldn’t control either. Her mind was elsewhere when Richard gathered the team for a mandatory meeting, outlining a new, stringent policy: zero tolerance for giving away free items. Any employee who violated this rule would be fired. It was a policy that felt harsh, but it also felt like one more hurdle in her daily battle.
That evening, after another exhausting shift, Jasmine returned to her apartment, only to find herself staring at the Golden State Warriors poster on her wall — Steph Curry, the man who had become a beacon of hope in her life. It wasn’t just his on-court brilliance that inspired her; it was the way he used his platform to help communities like hers.
The next day, as Jasmine made her way to work, she was greeted by the constant downpour of Oakland’s winter rain. Her umbrella folded under the gusty winds, and she arrived at McDonald’s drenched but on time. Richard had asked her to arrive early in preparation for the anticipated rush ahead of the Warriors game against the Lakers that night.
The afternoon was frantic, and Jasmine moved quickly between the counter and the drive-thru, trying to keep up with the growing line of customers. At around 4:00 PM, the entrance door burst open, letting in a rush of cold wind — and a tall man in a hoodie and dark glasses. Something about his walk seemed familiar. As he approached the counter, Jasmine felt a sudden sense of recognition, and it clicked.
She was face-to-face with Steph Curry.
“How may I help you?” she asked, maintaining her professionalism, though her heart was racing.
“My car broke down two blocks away,” Curry explained, his voice low and strained. “My phone’s dead, and I forgot my wallet. I just need to make a quick call to my agent.”
Without hesitation, Jasmine handed him her phone. As he made his call, Jasmine quickly assembled a sandwich, fries, and a soda for him, and passed it over without charging. “I can’t accept this,” Curry protested.
“It’s the least I can do,” Jasmine insisted. “Promise you’ll do your best in the game tonight.”
Jasmine didn’t realize that her act of kindness had been caught on security cameras. At that moment, Richard emerged from the back office. His face turned red with fury when he saw Jasmine’s gesture.
“Did you just give away food for free?” he snapped. Before Jasmine could respond, Curry intervened, explaining his situation.
“Sir, I’m without money right now, but I’ll make sure to pay you back.”
Richard, momentarily taken aback by Curry’s celebrity, quickly regained his composure. “The policy is clear. No exceptions,” he said firmly, turning to Jasmine. “You’re fired.”
Jasmine stood there, stunned. She handed over her uniform, her hands trembling, as she walked out of the restaurant. The rain was relentless, and her heart felt just as heavy as the sky above her. Curry, unable to do much more than watch, was soon surrounded by fans clamoring for autographs. Jasmine disappeared into the rain, carrying not just the weight of losing her job, but the weight of her shattered dreams.
The following morning, Jasmine woke to a sense of dread. She had been fired from a job she couldn’t afford to lose, and her search for new work seemed fruitless. As she sat at the kitchen table, the job listings on her phone mocked her with their low wages. Her mother’s medical bills, rent increases, and tuition fees all felt insurmountable.
The doorbell rang that morning, pulling her from her thoughts. Standing at the door was Raymond Parker, Steph Curry’s personal assistant, holding an envelope. “Mr. Curry was disturbed by what happened yesterday and has spent the past day trying to find you,” Raymond explained. “He wants to speak with you.”
Confused but hopeful, Jasmine followed Raymond to the Warriors’ training center. Inside a discreet conference room, she was met not only by Curry but also by the owner of the McDonald’s franchise and the team’s lawyer.
Curry immediately apologized for the incident. “It wasn’t your fault,” Jasmine said quietly, but Curry’s next words would change her life.
“After hearing about your dream of starting a catering business for sporting events, we want to help,” Curry explained. “We’re launching a program to provide nutritious meals to underprivileged athletes, and we need someone with your knowledge and heart.”
Jasmine barely contained her tears as Curry continued. He offered her a position as a project coordinator with a salary nearly double what she had earned at McDonald’s, along with a full scholarship to complete her Business Administration degree.
As Jasmine left the meeting that afternoon, she held a signed contract in one hand and tickets to every Warriors home game for the season in the other. But the most precious gift was the check from the Curry Foundation, which would cover her mother’s medical costs for an entire year.
When Jasmine returned home, her mother saw the smile that had been absent for months. The overwhelming weight of uncertainty had been lifted, replaced by a sense of hope and opportunity.
Jasmine sat down that evening, scribbling ideas for the food program on the back of the envelope. “Sometimes,” she thought, “life really does offer three-point shots at the most unexpected moments.”
