Imagine waking up every day not knowing if you’ll have a job, a paycheck, or even health insurance. That’s the harsh reality for Stephanie Rogers, a 44-year-old microbiologist with the Food and Drug Administration, who, along with hundreds of thousands of federal workers, is caught in the crossfire of a prolonged government shutdown. It’s not just about the money—it’s about the uncertainty, the fear, and the impossible choices families are forced to make.
Rogers, a divorced mother of two young daughters, saw the writing on the wall months ago. Anticipating the financial strain, she moved her family into her mother’s home just outside Denver. But here’s where it gets controversial: Was this a smart move, or a sign of deeper systemic failures that leave hardworking Americans scrambling to survive? High living costs and the memory of the 2018 shutdown pushed her to act, but the decision wasn’t easy. “Combining our households was the only way to stay afloat long-term,” she explains, her voice tinged with both determination and exhaustion.
As a chapter president of the National Treasury Employees Union (NTEU), Rogers is no stranger to the challenges federal workers face. Yet, this shutdown feels different. And this is the part most people miss: It’s not just about missing a paycheck—it’s about the looming threat of job loss, denied backpay, and the erosion of essential services like food inspections that the public takes for granted. President Trump’s recent comments about mass firings and cutting “Democrat programs” have only added to the anxiety. “Do I even have a job when this is over?” Rogers wonders aloud. “What about health insurance for my girls?”
To prepare, Rogers took proactive steps: scheduling medical appointments, refilling prescriptions, and even dipping into her retirement savings—a move that will cost her dearly in taxes next year. She’s applied for state unemployment, though she’ll have to repay it once the shutdown ends. Her daughters, aged 10 and 12, are already feeling the impact. Extracurricular activities, field trips, and even grocery staples like meat are now luxuries. “Our freezer broke, and we lost all our meat,” she shares, her frustration palpable. “It’s devastating when you’re counting every penny.”
Her mother, Nina Chapman, has been a lifeline, offering a basement-turned-home for the family. “I’m just grateful we had the space,” Chapman says warmly. But even her support can’t erase the stress. Rogers’ older daughter has started asking, “Does mommy have a job today?”—a question no child should have to worry about.
Despite loving her work, Rogers is now applying for jobs outside the federal government. “It’s heartbreaking,” she admits. “I believe in the work we do, but how can I stay when my family’s future is at stake?”
This shutdown isn’t just a political standoff—it’s a human crisis. What do you think? Is this a necessary evil of political negotiation, or a failure to protect the very people who keep our nation running? Share your thoughts below—let’s keep this conversation going.
