From Luxury Marketing to Working at a Gas Station. How losing my digital identity led me to the most unexpected rebuild — and why I’m not staying silent.

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Based on a true story — because sometimes reality is stranger than fiction.

I never thought I’d end up behind a gas station counter. Not after Monaco. Not after luxury brand deals. But here I am — rebuilding from the ground up, after a digital attack that stole almost everything… except my voice.

One day I was flying to a luxury event in Venice. The next, I was hiding from hackers, wiping my phone, and starting over behind a gas station counter.

Before that, I built a six-figure career in tech — then later shifted into luxury brand marketing and digital creation.

Cannes, Zurich, Tokyo, London, NYC — my name opened doors.

Until someone stole it.

Now, I open doors in a red uniform with a maritime emblem embroidered over my heart — for others, with a smile.

Rebuild Series (Parts 1–4)

Part 1: The Gas Station Was Safer Than the Internet | How digital chaos led me to an unexpected battlefield • Part 2: They Cut My Hours, Not My Voice | Retaliation and Resilience in a Red Uniform • Part 3: Retaliation Exposed | What minimum wage abuse looks like in California workplaces • Part 4: Two Battles, One Soul | How Cyberattacks and Workplace Retaliation Mirror Each Other

The Gas Station Was Safer Than the Internet

Six months ago, my life as a digital creator and luxury brand marketer was thriving. I attended VIP hosted events, traveled for exclusive luxury experiences, and built partnerships with clients who trusted my name and reputation.

But then came the nightmare: identity theft, impersonation, advanced persistent threats (APT), DNS hijacking, and relentless cyberattacks aimed at stealing not just my accounts, but the very essence of my brand and voice.

Why I Abandoned My Online Career to Protect Others

I made a painful but deliberate choice: to step away from digital creation and brand partnerships entirely. Not because I wanted to, but to protect my community — my clients, my friends, my followers — from falling victim to the fake forms and spoofed accounts these hackers use to trap unsuspecting people.

My phone was hijacked through something called mobile device management (MDM) — a system normally used by companies to control employee phones. In my case, it was part of a larger network compromise that kept dragging me into someone else’s control system. To keep others safe, I’ve removed all contacts from my phone. I don’t want anyone else pulled into this nightmare. My focus now is protection, healing, and rebuilding — quietly and safely.

I used to be flown out to Monaco, to NYC, to London — my name alone opened doors. Today, I open doors for customers buying gas and snacks. I traded prestige for peace, and a spotlight for safety.

From Luxury Launches to Burnt Oven Snacks: Starting Over in Retail

Today, I work as a cashier at a gas station. I wear my hair in a ponytail, no makeup, and a uniform that blends me into the crowd. If you see me, I look like just another face in line.

But one day, a woman from Dubai came in holding her baby and buying snacks. She glanced at my wrist and asked, “Is your Cartier real?”

I smiled. It’s the Love bracelet I bought myself after my divorce — a symbol of self-love. It’s screwed on, so I rarely take it off.

In a world where I’ve lost almost everything — my name, my platform, my accounts — this little gold reminder stays with me.

That moment reminded me: even when you feel invisible, some parts of you still shine through.

I’m still getting used to the quirks of this job. The cash register freezes more often than I like — like it’s got its own attitude. The oven switches are a mystery I haven’t fully cracked yet, and yes, I burnt my first batch of snacks. Who knew pushing a digital button could be so complicated?

The mini tacos? Burnt.

Not because I can’t cook — but because the oven’s basically held together by delusion and duct tape. It’s shoved so close to the wall it overheats, and the digital controls are misaligned. If I want mini tacos, I have to press “chicken tenders.”

On my first week, I guessed, hoped for the best, and planned to pull them out early. But between the freezing register and the no-phone policy (so, no timer), I forgot.

R.I.P. tacos. You deserved better.

I haven’t worked a minimum wage job since high school. So yes, the supervisor’s sharp words sting more than the smoky smell from the burnt food.

I clock in and out now — literally.

A digital punch system tracks every minute, including my 30-minute lunch break.

If I forget to clock out, it dings me.

That small detail says everything about how far my world has shifted.

A Linguist in Line: Where My Language Skills Still Shine

I’ve always loved languages. I did my Master’s in linguistics because I believe connection starts with communication — and now, that belief is tested in the most unexpected ways.

At the gas station, I switch tongues like I used to switch strategies in boardrooms.

I’ve helped a man in Portuguese buy his first car wash. I helped a Chinese customer navigate Lotto tickets, and even stepped in to apologize in Mandarin when a misunderstanding escalated between him and another cashier. I’ve guided Venezuelan customers in Spanish through our hot food options — and each time, they smile and thank me like I’ve made their day a little easier.

It’s not just customer service — it’s cultural fluency. My coworkers are often surprised. But to me, it’s almost second nature.

The truth is, no matter where I work, I show up with my whole self — including my voice, my skills, and my empathy. That’s what real service is. And that’s one thing the hackers couldn’t take from me.

When I first took this job, I’d go home during breaks to let Einstein, my little dog, out to potty. It was comforting to know I could check on him a few times a day. But after a couple of days, I realized he was totally fine without me around and I was the one who needed the break.

So now I take my breaks in the back room — which, honestly, looks like a janitorial supply closet someone forgot to clean. No windows, no comfy chairs — just mops, cleaning supplies, and a broken clock on the wall. It’s quiet though. And it’s mine for those ten minutes.

Somehow, sitting there among the brooms, I remind myself I’m still here, still trying, and still rebuilding.

In my past lives — tech insider, creator, department chair — I measured time in outcomes, not timestamps.

Now, I’m learning to show up differently. Not for prestige — but for persistence.

But here’s the truth: this honest work puts food on my table, pays some bills, and gives me space to breathe, think, and rebuild on my own terms. It’s nothing like the glamorous life I had, but it’s real. It’s grounded. And it’s teaching me things tech never could.

I traded tech and luxury partnerships for a gas station paycheck. And in a strange way, it’s helping me rebuild something more valuable: myself.

Lessons Learned: Patience, Flexibility, and Connection

Working at the gas station has taught me patience — especially when the register decides to freeze during a rush. It’s taught me flexibility — juggling cleaning, stocking, cooking, customer service, and keeping the place spotless. And above all, it’s reminded me of the power of genuine human connection.

I see all kinds of customers here. The regulars who greet me with a smile, the folks facing homelessness whom I treat with respect and kindness, the everyday people trying to get through their day. This job has given me a new lens on humanity — far beyond any email thread or client contract.

If you’re in survival mode, you’re not failing.

You’re adapting. You’re still here. That alone is a victory. This story isn’t just mine — it’s for anyone who’s had to start over when no one was watching.

“Maybe you’re too focused on your personal problems,” my manager said  when reprimanding me for a $25.00 cash discrepancy for the day — referring to the hackers who hijacked my life, stole my identity, and wiped out my entire career.

I wanted to laugh. Because what she didn’t realize was this: This job? This chaotic little retail shift with a sticky register and burnt mini tacos? It’s the calmest part of my day.

No one’s spoofing my login screen.

No one’s intercepting my texts.

No one’s rerouting my WiFi, impersonating me, or draining my accounts.

Here, people just want gas, snacks, and maybe a smile.

I’m not distracted. I’m surviving.

And if this place — with its mop closet breakroom and broken oven knobs — is where I rebuild, then so be it.

This is where peace begins.

The Moral Cost of Minimum Wage

In my first week on the job, a woman came in looking like she hadn’t had a decent morning in days. She was short a few cents for a small cup of coffee. Given everything I’ve been through lately — losing my online life, my income, and starting over from scratch — I felt for her. Without thinking twice, I pulled a quarter out of my own wallet and helped her cover it.

It wasn’t much. Just a small gesture between two people trying to get through the day. But that 25 cents reminded me of something I hadn’t felt in a long time: the power to still do something good, even when I’m struggling myself.

On week three at this new job, a homeless man came in and placed a crumpled dollar bill and lots of change on the counter. He wanted a 20oz Frazil and a banana. But then he hesitated and cancelled his order, picked his money back up, and walked out with the items anyway. It came out to $3.31.

I didn’t stop him fast enough.

I wasn’t trying to let him steal — I was still new and trying to handle it gently. But I got called out.

Not just for the missing $3.31 — but for not isolating the food or securing the money.

That moment stung. I wasn’t trained for these moral gray areas. I didn’t yet have the reflex to treat a small act of understanding like a security risk. I wasn’t thinking like a cashier. I was thinking like a human.

That night, I went home questioning whether compassion had a place in this world anymore — or if I had to unlearn who I was just to keep a job.

What They Couldn’t Steal: My Humanity

For months, I fought back with the tools I had — including a 2018 MacBook Pro a friend bought me with his Apple employee discount. It’s where I learned to code and even dove into the command line, trying to trace intrusions and outsmart the scripts. But I’m a builder, not a hacker. They were faster. They were crueler.

That MacBook Pro became part of the evidence I submitted to the FBI. I stopped using it in mid-May, once I understood how deeply the compromise ran.

Now, I write only from trusted setups — clean environments I manage. This blog is safe. What I share here is protected because I’ve learned what to watch for.

My iPhones? Even after eleven DFU restores, they still flash odd pop-ups — like haunted relics of a system no longer mine. I rarely use them now.

And yet — I’m still here. Still writing. Still standing in my truth.

Someone tried to hijack my brand, steal my identity, and profit from years of work.

But the true value was never in links or leads. It was always in the relationships — built on trust, connection, and real integrity. Those can’t be faked.

When I stepped away from digital creation, shut down WooCommerce, disabled payment portals, and cleared my contacts, I did it to protect others — and to remove the incentive.

No shortcuts. No silent harvest. Just a woman, rebuilding — quietly, one honest day at a time.

This Is Not the End — It’s the Beginning

If you’re reading this and feel moved by my story, thank you.

Your support means everything.

This chapter is temporary. My life is in transition — but this is not my end. I can feel it, deep in my bones. I am rising. Like a phoenix.

If You’ve Been Hacked or Hijacked — You’re Not Alone

If you’ve ever been impersonated or erased from your own accounts — you’re not crazy. And you’re not alone.

You’re living a reality no one prepared you for. I see you.

Share your story with me. Or send this to someone who needs to know they’re not imagining it.

And yes — if you’d like to support me as I rebuild, here’s my donation link: 

I used every break to document every workplace violation — tracking every slight and “joke” meant to break me down. When they retaliated, I was ready with proof to fight back. Maybe it’s the Scorpio in me, but HR had no idea what was coming.

It might read like fiction, but this story is 100% real — and it’s not over yet.

Next up: They Cut My Hours, Not My Voice: Retaliation in a Red Uniform.

Subscribe to read what HR hoped would stay quiet.

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What Comes Next

I wish I could say I’ve landed somewhere safe. But the truth is — I’m still in transition.

My lease ends mid-July. I didn’t renew — not because I wanted to leave, but because the WiFi was compromised beyond repair.

Even after five routers and a new ISP, the network remained poisoned, threatening all my devices and my peace of mind.

Now I’m facing eviction — and I don’t know where I’ll go next. It’s one thing to lose your accounts, your job, your name.

But your home?

Still, even in this uncertainty, I’m showing up. I’m still writing. Still choosing honesty over silence.

And oddly enough — being offline has brought a strange kind of peace. Without the noise of social media, I can think more clearly, move more quietly, and begin healing on my own terms.

Losing access to my online platforms wasn’t just theft — it became freedom.

If you’re reading this — thank you for walking with me. This part of the journey is raw, but it’s real.

And I’m not done yet.

Note: This blog reflects my personal journey through recovery, identity theft, and rebuilding. I share my experiences working in retail with humor and humility — not criticism. I remain grateful for the opportunity to work, learn, and grow while I navigate this season of transition. Any workplace anecdotes shared are anonymized and intended solely to reflect my personal transition and resilience — not as a critique of any employer or individual.

A Message Delivered by Einstein

We were just doing our usual — walking to the coffee shop down the street. Einstein trotted along like always, tail up, ears alert. I had no intention of lingering near that building — the one where everything changed — but the universe had other plans.

Right in front of it — the building where I once clocked in and felt erased, Einstein stopped. Looked around. And with perfect timing and zero hesitation… he pooped.

I didn’t have a bag. I didn’t even have time to react. He just dropped it like a mic.

All I could do was stare. It felt like the most fitting symbol I’d seen all year. He left something behind — something I wish I could have.

He literally left a 💩 where I used to leave my soul.  My 4lb Yorkie said what I wished I could.

Rebuild Series (Parts 1–4)

Part 1: The Gas Station Was Safer Than the Internet | How digital chaos led me to an unexpected battlefield

After surviving coordinated cyberattacks and identity theft, I took a job at a gas station seeking stability. What I found instead was a surprising sense of peace — at least at first — compared to the psychological warfare online.

Part 2: They Cut My Hours, Not My Voice| Retaliation and Resilience in a Red Uniform

When I began advocating for safety, training, and medical accommodations, management responded by slashing my hours. But while they tried to shrink my role, they couldn’t silence my voice or erase the record I was keeping.

Part 3: Retaliation Exposed | What minimum wage abuse looks like in California workplaces

This post breaks down how workplace retaliation actually plays out — through denied breaks, gaslighting, unsafe conditions, and policy violations. It reveals how labor abuse often hides behind corporate structure and fear-based leadership.

Part 4: Two Battles, One Soul | How Cyberattacks and Workplace Retaliation Mirror Each Other

In both the digital and physical worlds, I was targeted for speaking up and setting boundaries. This post draws the throughline — showing how control, silence, and surveillance operate across systems.

This is Part 7 of my Cybersecurity Series

After falling victim to identity theft, impersonation, and digital hijacking, I began documenting what no one prepares you for — and how to protect yourself if it happens to you.

Each post builds on the last to reveal how modern threats infiltrate your blog, your devices, your network — and even your identity.

Read the Full Series:

Part 1: How I Woke Up to My Blog Being Hijacked (And How to Protect Yours)

What began as blog impersonation exposed deeper issues with digital platform trust, AI clones, and account takeovers.

Part 2: It Looked Like Instagram — Until It Hijacked My Life

How a spoofed iOS app and Apple Configurator 2 gave someone else control of my iPhone — even after 12 DFU restores.

Part 3: How to Tell If Your WiFi Is Hacked (And What to Do About It)

A poisoned router. A spinning light. A drone overhead. Learn how smart homes get silently surveilled — and how to shut it down.

Part 4: Locked Out and Looping: What Happens When You Can’t Recover Your Accounts

What to do when recovery fails, Apple IDs stay compromised, and your real name is no longer under your control.

Part 5: You Don’t Have to Go Viral to Be Vulnerable

Even without fame, you can become a target. What I’ve learned about long-term threat persistence, digital healing, and rebuilding trust in your own devices.

Part 6: How It Escalated from 1¢ Charges to a Hijacked Home Network
It started small — untraceable micro-charges, odd transactions that banks dismissed. But those pennies were the tip of a much larger intrusion. In this post, I walk through how those tiny signs led to a full-scale breach of my home network, compromised router firmware, and invisible devices rerouting my traffic. This wasn’t just about fraud — it was about silent surveillance, digital cloning, and impersonation at the infrastructure level. What looks harmless might be your earliest warning sign.

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Work With Me

If you’re a brand, agency, or company looking for a marketing manager, strategist, or digital storyteller with real-world resilience — I’m open to select opportunities.

I bring over a decade of experience in tech, luxury marketing, and brand strategy, with a proven ability to lead through chaos and build with integrity.

Please note: Due to ongoing digital identity challenges — including losing access to my legacy email and LinkedIn accounts — I’ve been unable to engage with traditional professional networks and job platforms. This has made it difficult to pursue roles matching my qualifications (BA and MA) through usual channels, which is why I took on a minimum wage job while rebuilding my digital presence.

View My Résumé

Contact Me Directly

This chapter may look different — but my skills haven’t gone anywhere. I’m ready for what’s next.

If this story resonates — leave a comment or share with someone who needs hope. You’re not alone, and neither am I.

NOTE: This piece was originally written and timestamped in June 25, 2025, before my current employment status changed. It is part of an ongoing cybersecurity and California employment law awareness series.

About the Author

Susye Weng-Reeder, known online as SincerelySusye™, is a Google-Verified Internet Personality, published author, and former tech industry insider with experience at Facebook, Apple, and Zoom.

She first gained recognition for her work in intuitive healing, travel writing, and personal transformation—but her online presence took a sharp turn after she became the target of a sophisticated identity theft and impersonation campaign.

Now, Susye uses her voice to expose the rising threat of digital impersonation, surveillance, and cyberattacks—especially those targeting creators, women, and small business owners. Her blog documents a real-world case currently being addressed by federal cybersecurity teams, and serves as both a warning and a resource for others navigating this emerging landscape.

Her site, SincerelySusye.com, is now a trusted resource for anyone navigating the invisible war on digital identity — offering truth, warning, and hope in equal measure.