I’m 47 Years Old. For 15 Years, I Worked as a Personal Driver for a Senior Executive at a Leading UK Tech Company—He Always Treated Me Well, Paid Generously, and Thanks to This Job I Raised My Three Kids and Bought a Home. But One Night, After Waiting All Day, I Overheard Him Call Me “Just a Driver”—So I Handed In My Notice the Next Morning. Now I’m in a Better Job, Yet I Still Wonder: Did I Make the Right Choice, or Was I Too Hasty? Can a Five-Second Comment Destroy Fifteen Years of Loyalty? What Do You Think?

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 5 minViews 1

Im 47 years old. For the past 15 years, Id worked as a personal driver for a top executive at a major technology firm in London. Throughout those years, he always treated me wellpaid a decent salary, gave me all the proper bonuses and perks, even threw in the occasional extra reward. I drove him everywhere: to meetings, Heathrow, business dinners, and even family gatherings.

Thanks to this job, my family lived comfortably. I managed to put all three of my kids through school, bought a modest three-bedroom house on a mortgage just outside Reading, and we never truly wanted for anything.

Last Tuesday, I was meant to drive him to an important meeting at a luxury hotel in Mayfair. Like always, I wore a crisp suit, made sure the car was spotless, and arrived punctually.

On the way over, he told me this was a make-or-break meeting, with foreign guests involved. He asked me to wait for him in the car park as the talks might drag on.

I told him it was no problem, that Id wait as long as it took.

The meeting began early in the morning. I settled in the car. Time dragged bymidday slipped into afternoon, and still no sign of him. I sent him a message asking if he was all right or if he needed anything. He replied that everything was going splendidly, just give him another hour.

Evening came. I was ravenous, but I stayed put. I didnt want to risk stepping away if he suddenly appeared and needed me.

Around half past eight, I finally saw him emerging from the hotel, together with his guests. They were all laughing, looking awfully pleased with themselves. I quickly got out and opened the car door for them.

He told me to take everyone to dinner. I nodded politely and set off.

On the way, his guests chatted away in English. Over the years, Id been teaching myself English in the evenings after work, just to keep my brain engaged and open up new doors, though Id never mentioned it on the job. I understood every word.

At one point, one guest asked if the driver had really waited all day for them, saying it was a sign of great dedication.

My boss chuckled and replied with something that pierced straight through me:

Thats what I pay him for. Hes just a driver. What else could he possibly have to do?

The others all laughed.

I felt a lump rise in my throat, but I kept my composure. I carried on driving, as though I hadnt heard a thing.

When we arrived at the restaurant, he said theyd be there a while and told me to go grab something to eat, to return in two hours. I agreed quietly.

I wandered to a nearby corner shop and had a sandwich for dinner, the words just a driver echoing in my mind.

Fifteen years of loyalty, early mornings, endless waiting… Was that really all I was to him?

Two hours later, I picked them up and drove them back. He was ecstaticthe meeting had been a resounding success.

Next morning, I showed up for work as usual. As he got in the car, I greeted him and started the engine. On the seat beside him, Id left my resignation letter.

He glanced at it, confused, and asked what it was.

I told him, calmly but firmly, that I was resigning.

He was stunnedasked if I wanted more money, if something had happened.

I replied that money wasnt the reason; it was simply time for me to explore new opportunities.

He pressed for the real reason. When we stopped at a red light, I looked him in the eye and told him straight: last night, hed called me just a driver with nothing better to do. Maybe thats how he saw me, but I deserved to work for someone who respected me.

He went pale.

Tried to explain, said he hadnt meant it, it was just a careless remark.

I said I understood, but after 15 years, it was painfully clear. I was ready to work somewhere I felt valued.

At the office, he begged me to reconsider, offered a hefty pay rise. I refused, told him Id see out my notice period and then be gone.

My final day was difficult. He made several last attempts to keep me onbetter terms, more perks. But my mind was made up.

Now, I have a new job. I got a call from someone offering me a position, not as a driver, but as a coordinator. Better salary, my own office, regular hours. He told me he appreciated loyalty and hard work.

I accepted immediately.

Sometime later, my old boss messaged me. He wrote that hed been wrong, that Id been more than a driverId been someone he relied upon. Asked for forgiveness.

I still havent replied.

Now, in my new role, I feel valued. Yet, now and then, I wonderdid I do the right thing? Should I have given him a second chance?

Sometimes, a sentence uttered in five seconds can shatter relationships built over fifteen years.

What do you thinkwas I right, or did I go too far?

When the Key Turned in the Door, His Heart Nearly Leapt From His Chest and His Soul Rushed to Meet Her… 🤔 — How many more mistakes can you make?! Your errors are just ridiculous! Look at this! — Alison Edwards jabbed her long, manicured nail at the monthly report, almost snapping her polished perfection. — Go! Do it again! And if you can’t manage, then just quit already! — Her boss, always impeccably groomed and attractive, looked downright demonic when angry. Lisa left in silence. There was just over an hour left in the working day—she had to hurry, though she’d already been docked her bonus. It felt like one endless streak of bad luck—complete with extra hurdles. A week ago, she’d called her mother, only to be met with a fresh bout of criticism. Her mum launched into accusations and hung up in a rage, leaving Lisa more upset than usual and now too afraid to call at all. Two days ago she’d lost her bank card, had to cancel it and order a new one. And yesterday, her only companion—Phoebe, her year-old calico cat—had fallen from the third-floor balcony. Lisa watched as the cat eventually stood, shook herself off, and walked away. But when Lisa got outside, Phoebe was nowhere to be found, having vanished ever since. Barely submitting her cursed report, Lisa headed home, not even bothering with the shops. She collapsed on the sofa and sobbed bitterly. Half an hour later, her tears dried, but she felt no better. Gloomy, poisonous thoughts slithered in: Who am I living for? My mother doesn’t want me, I have no family, and even my cat has left me. Suddenly, the idea of ending it all seemed almost comforting. “At least they’ll break their nails and weep someday, but by then it’ll be too late,” she thought darkly, feeling relieved that tomorrow she wouldn’t need to go to work, call her mother, or apologise for things she hadn’t done. A reckless sense of glee took over. She was just a small step away from making a truly terrible decision when the phone rang—a number she didn’t recognise. She nearly ignored it, but thought “What if this is the last human voice I’ll ever hear?” — Hello?… Nobody answered. — If you’re just going to call and not speak, why bother? — Her frustration grew. — Hello… — a low male voice finally came through. — Please, don’t hang up. — Who are you? What do you want? — Lisa was anxious to get on with her “important” plans. — I just wanted to hear another human’s voice… I haven’t spoken to anyone in a week. I thought, if nobody answered me tonight, that would be it… — he sighed shakily. — Can’t you go out to the park or something? That’s all it takes! — Lisa perched on her wide windowsill. — I can’t. I live on the fifth floor. My wife left a week ago… — His voice fell. — No wonder! What kind of man are you?! — Lisa said, not understanding his situation. — I’m in a wheelchair. Less than a year now. Five flights—up and down—is impossible without a lift. — You don’t have legs?! — Lisa asked, horrified, before she could stop herself. — Not quite. Spinal injury. I can’t walk. — She thought she heard a sigh and a smile in his words. They talked for half an hour more. Lisa took down his address. An hour later, she was at his door with two massive carrier bags. Answering was a young, handsome man in a wheelchair. — I’m Lisa! — It only dawned on her now that she didn’t even know his name. — Arthur! — His radiant smile lit up his face as if he’d been waiting his whole life for her. Turns out, they lived not far from one another. Lisa visited every day. Her own hardships paled in comparison to his situation—troubles that had almost cost her the will to live. She grew stronger, more stubborn, more caring. As if by magic, Phoebe reappeared: just waiting for Lisa on her doormat. When her boss Alison tried to start in on her again, Lisa cut her short: — Ms Edwards, you have no right to yell at me or humiliate me. I can’t work under this kind of pressure—I’ll call in sick from this migraine, and good luck finding a replacement! The girls in the office burst out laughing; her boss turned on her heel and left. A call finally came from her mother: — Hello, daughter! Why haven’t you called? How could you be so heartless, so ungrateful? Elizabeth, are you listening?! — her mother shrieked. — Hello, Mum. I don’t want to talk with you in that tone anymore, — Lisa replied evenly. — How dare you?! I’ll hang up! — Go ahead… — she said indifferently. A few days later, her mother rang again. No apology—never her style—but at least the conversation stayed civil. A month later, Lisa moved in with Arthur, renting out her own flat. Friendship turned into trust, gratitude, tenderness—maybe even love. With rent money, Lisa hired a masseuse and booked weekly swimming sessions for Arthur. Slowly, feeling began to return; he could wiggle his toes. Lisa’s mother fell ill, and Lisa took two days off work to care for her. Arthur waited anxiously. Like a loyal hound, he lay on the sofa for days, counting the minutes. It was February and a blizzard raged outside. He knew when Lisa’s bus should arrive, calculated how long it would take her to get home—but the minutes dragged on, and Lisa still wasn’t there. Arthur wheeled himself to the window, but the snowstorm swallowed up everything. Her phone had been off for hours. One hour passed… Two… Three… When the key finally turned in the lock, his heart nearly burst from his chest and his soul leapt to greet her. — Arthur, the bus skidded off the road; we had to wait for the tow service… My phone died straight away, — she called, pulling off her coat. — Arthur! She ran into the living room and stopped dead— He was standing, just two steps from his wheelchair, beaming.

I’m 47 Years Old. For 15 Years, I Worked as a Personal Chauffeur for a Senior Executive at a Leading UK Tech Firm. He Always Treated Me Well—Great Pay, Bonuses, Full Benefits, Even Extra Perks. I Drove Him Everywhere: Business Meetings, Airport Runs, Formal Dinners, and Family Events. My Family Lived Comfortably; I Gave My Three Children a Good Education and Bought a Modest Home on a Mortgage. Last Tuesday, I Was Driving Him to an Important Meeting at a London Hotel. As Always, Dressed Smartly, Car Immaculate, Arrived Promptly. He Told Me This Meeting Was Crucial, With International Guests, and Asked Me to Wait in the Car. I Agreed, No Problem. The Meeting Began in the Morning. I Waited in the Car. Noon Came and Went, Then the Afternoon, Still No Sign. I Texted to Check In—He Said It Was Going Well, to Give Him Another Hour. By Evening, I Was Hungry But Didn’t Move—Didn’t Want to Miss Him. Finally, Around 8:30pm, He Came Out With His Guests, All Laughing. I Opened the Car Door for Them. He Asked Me to Take Them to Dinner. On the Drive, They Spoke English. Over the Years, I’d Studied the Language in My Evenings, Though I’d Never Mentioned It at Work. I Understood Everything. One Guest Remarked How Dedicated I Was for Waiting All Day. My Boss Laughed and Said, “That’s What I Pay Him For—He’s Just a Driver, He Has Nothing Better to Do.” They All Laughed. A Lump Formed in My Throat, But I Said Nothing and Kept Driving. During Dinner, He Told Me to Grab Something to Eat and Return in Two Hours. Alone, His Words Echoed in My Mind: “Just a Driver.” Fifteen Years of Loyalty, Early Mornings, Hours Waiting—Was That Really All I Was to Him? Next Day, I Arrived as Usual. As He Got in, I Left My Resignation Letter on the Seat Beside Him. He Looked Puzzled and Asked What It Was. I Told Him I Was Resigning—Respectfully but Firmly. He Was Stunned, Offered Me More Money, Asked If Something Happened. I Said It Wasn’t About Money, But Time for a Change. He Pressed for the Real Reason. At a Red Light, I Looked at Him and Said, “Last Night, You Called Me ‘Just a Driver’ With Nothing Better to Do. Maybe That’s True for You, But I Deserve to Work for Someone Who Respects Me.” He Turned Pale, Tried to Explain He Didn’t Mean It, It Was a Thoughtless Remark. I Told Him I Understood, But After 15 Years, It Was Clear Enough. I Deserved to Be Valued. At the Office, He Asked Me to Reconsider and Offered a Significant Raise. I Refused, Promised to Work My Notice, Then Leave. My Last Day Was Difficult. He Tried Harder With Even Better Offers, But My Mind Was Made Up. Now, I’m in a New Job—Not as a Driver, But as a Coordinator, With Higher Pay, My Own Office, Set Hours. My New Boss Said He Values Loyalty and Hard Work. I Didn’t Hesitate to Accept. Later, I Got a Message From My Old Boss—He Said He Was Wrong, I Was More Than a Driver, I Was Someone He Relied On, and Asked for Forgiveness. I Haven’t Replied Yet. Now, I Feel Valued in My New Job, but Sometimes Wonder—Did I Do the Right Thing? Should I Have Given Him a Second Chance? Sometimes, Five Seconds and a Careless Sentence Can Undo 15 Years of Trust. What Do You Think—Did I Do the Right Thing, or Was I Too Harsh?