Without Fear
I would like to start by introducing myself. My name is Angel Martinez, and I am a franchisee in Winston, Oregon. I recently was one of the co-hosts of the DWLA Summit in Houston, and it has been placed on my heart to share my story in hopes that it helps someone feel seen, inspired, or simply reminded that anything is possible. As Kelly says, it’s hard to be vulnerable, but here it goes.
My journey with Domino’s began on July 4, 2016. At that point in my life, I was in hiding. I was a victim of domestic violence, and my children and I had moved to a new town to start over quietly, without anyone knowing where we were. I was terrified. I was living on state assistance in a single-wide trailer, with no car, no hope, and raising two little souls who depended on me.
I started working Saturday and Sunday opening shifts as a manager, those were the only days I had a sitter. I rode a bike to work. I was given just two training shifts and then sent out on my own. I remember one day when an auction in a neighboring town caused a huge rush. I was completely overwhelmed, deep in the red, and didn’t even know the full menu. Using a paper menu, I did my best to make one item at a time.
Then, my franchisee, who I didn’t even realize was the owner, came in and helped me clear the board. I was in shock. An owner who actually worked in their store? In over 20 years in food service management, I had never seen that before. That moment changed something in me. I decided I was going to figure out what went wrong and how I could be better.
I took pride in doing well, not just for myself, but for my franchisee. He was a normal guy with three kids, just trying to support his family. I stayed at that store until 2017, when I was transferred to a higher-volume location in a neighboring town. I became a co-GM in a store that had just received a 0-star OER. It was chaos.
I started reviewing past OERs and worked to fix repeated violations, but not without pushback. Change wasn’t easy, especially with long-term employees who were used to doing things their way. I had to learn standards, build a foundation, and lead through resistance.
By 2018, I became the General Manager, and we earned our first 5-star OER in seven years. In 2019, I received a Rolex. In March 2020, I was promoted to supervisor and helped build, staff, and open Store 7241 in Winston, Oregon.
As proud as I was of these accomplishments, I was still a single mom in survival mode. Sleep was elusive. Days off didn’t exist. Many nights, my kids slept on boxes, benches, or the lobby floor while I worked. When the Winston store opened, it operated carhop-style due to COVID.
Then, in June 2020, disaster struck. A car crashed through the lobby and into the kitchen. Thankfully, all employees were safe, including a blind cat that had been under the brake pedal. Three months later, we reopened with 23 new hires, myself, and a manager who had been with the brand for less than a year.
By 2021, I was burnt out. I was overwhelmed, lost, and had become a toxic supervisor. I didn’t know how to fix it anymore. Around that same time, my grandmother became very sick, and I left Domino’s to help care for her until she passed.
In August 2022, I reached back out to my franchisee and asked if there were any CSR positions available. Domino’s was the only place I knew I could support my family. Returning meant sacrifice, especially time with my children, but I had responsibilities to meet.
This time, I came back with a different mindset. I wanted to speak life into those around me. I realized that while I had achieved a lot before, I had failed as a leader because I lacked patience and the ability to truly teach and grow others.
I started again in a high-volume store and quickly moved back into a supervisory role, but this time, I assumed nothing. I focused on showing, teaching, and developing others with kindness and intention.
In 2025, our franchise hired two incredible women, one became a GM and the other had prior supervisory experience. I realized I had a choice: hold someone else back or grow myself to make space for others. With only three stores, we couldn’t support two supervisors—so I chose growth.
In April 2025, I started FMS. I was terrified. It was my first experience with imposter syndrome. Some days I felt confident. Other days I questioned everything. But I knew I owed it to my children to be courageous, and to do things that scared me.
In October 2025, I bought my first store.
Today, I have an incredible GM, someone I personally trained. We’ve spent countless hours working together, and for the first time in six years, I successfully developed someone into a fully self-sufficient leader.
My children are now 14 and 12, and we are part of a blended family raising five kids. I’ve attended many Domino’s events over the years, but until recently, I stayed quiet—hiding. Domino’s was the first place that allowed me to truly be myself.
People started calling me a “Hurricane” because everything I do, I do with intensity. That became my company name: Hurricane Pizza Inc.
I want to be the kind of franchisee who gives others hope. A safe place to grow, to be seen, and to believe in themselves.
Standing on stage and hosting such an incredible event is beyond anything I ever imagined for my life. One thing I remind myself of often is this: fear is a feeling, not a result. I am capable of anything, and perfection is not required.
Today, I get to spend more time with my kids and watch them discover their passions. I no longer see myself as a victim. I am a survivor.
I have taken control of my future by investing in what brings me joy. The DWLA summit was the first time I stood fully in the open without fear. I am no longer just surviving, I am truly living.
Being surrounded by women who genuinely support and uplift one another, without judgment or competition, was freeing in a way I had never experienced before. For the first time, I stood tall and felt proud of every scar that brought me here.
I now face life’s challenges with grace, perseverance, and courage. Without fear
Angel Martinez
Franchisee
Winston, Oregon
