By the time a driver arrived, I was half an hour late. The receptionist’s polite but distant smile told me all I needed to know—I wasn’t getting that meeting. My chance at the job vanished.
When I told Dad what happened, he was livid. That night, over dinner, he told Kathy she’d borrowed my car for a month with no conditions, but returning it empty had cost me an important opportunity. He sent her to fill my tank and repay the cost.
The next day, she handed me an envelope of crumpled bills, muttering about how I’d “made a big deal over a few dollars.” But it wasn’t about money—it was about respect.
I used that cash to get to another interview across town. This time, I was early. I got the job.
Kathy and I barely speak now. At family gatherings, we exchange polite nods, but the closeness is gone. Some would call it sad; I call it a hard-earned lesson.
Kindness is powerful—but it should never be taken for granted. The right people will value it. The wrong ones will teach you why boundaries matter.