Im just going to tell you everything thats happened at work and at home, like Id be rambling over a cuppa with you.
So, the other day I was driving out of the city to drop a modest old bloke off in the little village of Willowbrook. Turns out he was the founder of the construction firm I work for can you believe that? I was thinking, Megan Spencer, this isnt fair! that was the voice of our senior accountant, Martha Spencer, echoing down the corridor. Ive been here longer than anyone, and they promote Jane! she snapped.
The HR manager, Helen Clarke, adjusted her glasses and sighed. Olivia Vaughan, the decision came from senior management, not me.
But you could at least put in a word! Ive been slogging for five years, never a complaint, and Janes only been here a year!
Jane has two university degrees
And I have real, handson experience!
Olivia thats me turned and left the office, almost bumping into our colleague Tara Mitchell.
Whats up? Tara asked.
Theyve promoted Jane to senior manager.
Seriously? Tara whistled. Shes moving up fast.
Too fast, I muttered, dropping my bag on my chair. Am I not good enough?
Terry, youre excellent, Tara said, laying a hand on my shoulder. Maybe Jane just has the right connections, or shes just lucky.
I sat down, switched on my computer and the day was already off to a gloomy start my mood was ruined before the first cup of tea. I work in the supplies department of a construction firm. The job is routine but steady. The pay isnt huge, but its always on time. A promotion would mean a decent pay bump and a bit of prestige.
The afternoon dragged on. I was sorting invoices, phoning suppliers, filling out paperwork. By lunch my head was buzzing.
Olivia, fancy a bite in the canteen? Tara asked.
No, I brought sandwiches and Ive lost my appetite.
Stop worrying so much. Your turn will come.
When? I asked, halfjoking. Im fortyeight, Tara. Retirement isnt far off. Whens my moment?
Tara didnt have an answer, just a sympathetic look, and she went off to eat. I stayed in the empty office, sipped tea from my thermos, and ate my sandwich without any gusto.
I married young, at twenty, and had a daughter, Nora. My husband left when Nora was five, saying hed fallen in love with someone else and couldnt stay. I raised Nora alone, working, scrimping, and saving every penny. Nora grew up, got her qualifications, married and moved to another city. She calls now and then, but never visits much.
I stayed at the same firm. A reliable place, but with few prospects. Management appreciated my reliability, nothing more.
When the day was over, a light autumn drizzle was falling. I threw on my coat, grabbed my umbrella, and headed for the exit.
Olivia Vaughan, could you stay a bit longer? Victor Palmer, the department head, popped his head out of his office. We need that invoice processed urgently.
Im about to leave
Itll just take twenty minutes, please.
I sighed, shed my coat, and what was supposed to be twenty minutes turned into an hour. By the time I finally got out, it was dark and the rain was coming down hard. I hustled to the bus stop, but the bus had just pulled away. The next one wouldnt be for another half hour.
Great, I muttered, standing under the shelter, shivering. I remembered a flyer Id seen that morning a colleague, Sergey, was selling an old car cheap. Maybe I should buy it; I was fed up with the buses.
When the next bus finally arrived, it was packed. I squeezed in, clinging to a pole, thinking, Thats it, Im getting a car.
The next morning I met Sergey. He was thrilled.
Take it, Olivia! I dont need it, Ive got a new one. Its an old thing, but it runs fine. £1,000, and its yours.
Id saved up that £1,000, planning to use it for flat repairs, but a car felt more urgent. Sergey helped with the paperwork, and even though I got my licence ages ago, Id barely ever driven. The first week was nervewracking; every horn made me jump. After a while I got used to it. The car was ten years old but still chugged along nicely.
On Friday I decided to drive up to my mums place in the village of Little Hinton. Shes alone, over seventy, not in great health. I visited once a month, bringing groceries and medicines. The village is about eighty kilometres from the city, the roads arent the best. As I left the town, the rain picked up. I switched on the wipers and tried to see the road.
About thirty kilometres out I saw a figure on the verge. An old man was standing in the rain, looking like hed been waiting for a bus. I almost drove past, but my conscience kicked in hed get soaked. I pulled over, rolled down the window.
Where to? I asked.
He shuffled closer, a thin man in a battered coat and a cap, looking about seventy. To Willowbrook, love, he said, if its not too much trouble.
Willowbrook was right on the way, just five miles from my mums.
Hop in, I said, opening the door. He thanked me, sliding into the passenger seat, his clothes dripping.
Sorry about the car, he stammered.
No worries, itll dry. Wherere you from?
From the city. I was on my way to my granddaughters birthday, missed the bus, so I thought Id try my luck at the polling station.
The rain made the road slippery, but I managed to get us to Willowbrook.
You drive carefully, the old man remarked. Lots of youngsters now just zip past without looking.
Just started driving again, still a bit scared, I admitted.
Youre right to be cautious. A car can be dangerous; youve got to stay alert.
We chatted a lot. He called himself Peter Cooper. Hed been born in Willowbrook, moved to the city to live with his son, but his heart never left his hometown. I told him about my job in the supplies department, and he talked about his life on construction sites, first as a labourer, then as a foreman.
Whats your firm called? he asked.
BuildCo Ltd, I replied. He nodded, looking thoughtful.
When we reached Willowbrook, the rain eased a bit. He pointed to a shop where he could park. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a crumpled tenpound note.
Take this for petrol.
Oh, no need, I waved it off. I was headed this way anyway.
He insisted, but I refused. He got out, tipped his hat, and walked away, shouting, Thank you, Olivia Vaughan. God bless you, youre a kind soul.
I drove on to my mums. She greeted me with a big smile.
Olivia, love! Youre finally here!
We had tea, talked, and I handed over the groceries and meds. She complained about her health and the neighbours, and I tried to explain that work kept me swamped.
That night I slept in my narrow, old bedroom, woke up early to help Mum with chores, then headed back to the city. On the drive past Willowbrook I wondered whether Peter made it home safely.
Sunday was a lazy one laundry, cleaning, mealprepping for the week. My daughter Nora called.
Hey, Mum, she said, distracted, how are you?
Fine, love. You?
Kids are sick, Im stuck with them.
Anything I can do?
No, well manage. Ive got to run, talk later.
She hung up. Its the usual shes busy, Im busy, we barely talk.
Monday was back at the office, same routine of paperwork and calls. By evening I was exhausted, barely making it home.
Tuesday morning Victor called a meeting.
Attention, everyone, he announced, today were expecting a very special visitor Peter Cooper, the founder of BuildCo.
Tara, whos that? she asked.
The man who started the company thirty years ago, now retired.
Do we even know him? asked Jane, whod just been promoted over me.
He left the firm a while back, his health isnt great, but hes coming to see how things are running.
I sat there, heart pounding. Peter Cooper? The same bloke Id given a lift to in the rain? It seemed impossible.
Victor continued, Hell arrive at eleven. Please be ready, no tardiness.
Everyone rushed around, tidying desks, shuffling papers. I wiped my own desk, my mind whirling could it really be the same Peter?
At eleven the doors burst open. Victor walked in, followed by a man in the same battered coat and cap, leaning on a cane. He was exactly the Peter Id driven to Willowbrook.
I froze, clutching a rag. He scanned the room, nodded to Victor, then his gaze landed on me. His eyes lit up.
Olivia Vaughan! What a coincidence! he exclaimed. Youre the lady who stopped for me that rainy Friday.
Everyone turned to look. Victor raised an eyebrow.
Do you know each other? he asked.
Of course, Peter said, walking over. Shes the kind soul who helped an old man on a stormy evening.
Victors expression shifted to curiosity.
Olivia, would you mind showing us around? Peter would love to see how the supplies department runs.
I swallowed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride. I set the rag aside, smoothed my blouse, and followed them.
Peter asked about the company, the projects, and I answered as best I could. When the tour ended, he invited me into his office.
Sit down, Olivia. Tell me, hows work for you?
I hesitated, then opened up. Ive been here five years, the job is stable but I was passed over for a promotion. Jane, whos only been here a year, got it instead.
He listened, his face softening. Why do you think that happened?
Management says she has better qualifications two degrees. I only have a college diploma.
He paused, tapping his fingers on the desk. Have you ever thought about further study?
Its a bit late, Im almost fifty.
Never too late, he said firmly. What if the firm funded a parttime course for you? An economics programme would suit your role perfectly.
I stared, mouth open. Seriously?
Absolutely. Youre diligent, you have a good heart those are the traits we need. Your education is just a piece of paper.
I felt tears prickling. Thank you, Peter. I dont even know what to say.
He stood, patted my shoulder. I stopped on that road yesterday on purpose, wanted to see if anyone would stop for an old man. Its rare these days. You stopped, you helped, and that says a lot about you.
He explained that he had asked a driver to park his car nearby, then walked out to test peoples kindness. Only about twenty cars passed by; most sped on. I was the one who cared.
He told Victor hed arrange the training and a salary increase.
The rest of the day was a blur of questions from colleagues. Are they going to promote you? Whats happening? I just smiled, keeping the news to myself for the moment.
That evening Victor called me into his office.
Olivia, congratulations. The founder has approved a £2,000 raise and a spot in the parttime economics course. Well sort the paperwork this week.
I could barely contain my excitement.
I called Mum straight away, telling her everything.
See, love? Good deeds do come back, she said, tears in her voice.
I rang Nora too.
Mum, youre amazing! I always knew youd make it.
She laughed, Just luck, I guess.
I went to bed feeling like I was walking on clouds.
A week later I enrolled in the distance learning economics programme. Juggling work, study, and caring for Mum was tough, but I managed. Peter never showed up at the office again, but one day I got a handwritten letter from him. He wrote that he was proud of me, that true wealth isnt money or titles but kindness. He slipped in a small note: Remember, Olivia Vaughan, a good heart is the richest thing you can own. I keep that letter in my desk drawer; it lifts me up whenever I feel low.
Six months later I passed my first exams with top marks. Management noticed, gave me a bonus, and even some colleagues started looking at me differently. Jane, whod taken my spot, stopped by one afternoon.
Olivia, Im actually a bit jealous of you, she confessed.
Why? I asked, surprised.
Youre bright, helpful, everyone likes you. Im always focused on my own climb.
She sighed. Teach me how to be like you.
I told her, You have a conscience, just need to listen to it. She nodded, thoughtful.
Another halfyear went by, and the firm announced a new branch in the nearby town of Brookfield. They needed a head of supplies. Victor offered me the role.
Its a big step, I admitted. I havent finished my course yet.
Its why we trust you. Youre reliable, responsible. Are you in?
Yes, I said firmly. Id start at the beginning of next month.
That evening I drove back to Mums, told her the news. She cried, hugging me, My dear, Im so proud. All because you stopped for a stranger that rainy day.
She repeated her favourite saying, Kindness never goes unrewarded. I squeezed her hand, feeling the truth of it.
On the way back to the city I paused at the spot where Id pulled over for Peter. I got out, stood there, listening to the patter of rain. How many cars had whizzed past that day? Twenty? Thirty? Everyone was in a hurry, none stopping.
I smiled, remembering that simple act of compassion that turned my life around. It wasnt that the old man turned out to be the founder; it was that I chose to do the right thing.
Now Im heading into a new role, new responsibilities, maybe a few more challenges, but I know Ill stay true to myself kind, helpful, ready to lend a hand. Real wealth isnt a paycheck or a title; its the good you do and the clean conscience you keep. And Ive got plenty of that.
