Elderly Woman Quits Job after Quarrel with Director, He Appears on Her Doorstep a Month Later – Story of the Day

Linda worked her entire life as an accountant for a major firm, and she was still the best employee at her age. But she wanted to retire, something the director refused. She asked for an extended vacation, which was denied, and that’s when she finally decided to quit. However, the director showed up at her doorstep with a shocking suggestion.

“Mr. Salinger, I’ve been working for over 40 years. I think I have earned my retirement by now,” Linda told her boss in the accountant firm she had dedicated her life to.

“No, Linda. We can’t do that yet. You can’t do that to us. You can’t leave the company without a proper replacement for you. It’s just not possible,” Mr. Salinger replied, shaking his head at her suggestion.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Although Linda was the best employee in the firm, she truly needed to retire now. It was harder for her to learn all the advanced computer programs coming out now, and focusing on a screen was damaging her eyesight. She had headaches all the time and tired quickly. It was time for her to rest, especially because she had missed so much of her life working there.

Her firm demanded the most out of everybody that worked there. Linda was a hugely ambitious woman who wanted the very best for her family. Therefore, she invested double the hours and worked to become the number one employee in the company. And she had kept that spot for decades.

But now, the director, Mr. Salinger, told her to stay, and she complied again with his orders.

***

Unfortunately, Linda was overwhelmed with work and sad that Mr. Salinger had not supported her retirement. Her children and husband, Thomas, noticed this and decided to plan several weekend outings.

Linda spent time with her grandchildren at barbecues, the Richmond County fair in their hometown in Staten Island, and they even spent some time in New York visiting touristy spots.

One weekend, her husband surprised her with several tickets for a planned trip to Europe in the summer. They were interchangeable, so all she needed was to arrange her vacation time at work to enjoy it fully.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

That was the perfect solution. If Mr. Salinger wouldn’t let her retire, he had to give her a decent vacation time this year. After all, she had not taken a long break for many years. She was due.

***

“Absolutely not! That’s too much time. We need you here, Linda. I thought we had already discussed this,” Mr. Salinger stated, throwing some papers on his desk and looking at Linda in disappointment.

“Mr. Salinger, I’m due for a long vacation after all my years of hard work. We talked about retiring and you told me you couldn’t allow it. A vacation is only a month. That’s nothing,” Linda countered, her hands together in a begging gesture.

“I already told you my answer. It’s final!” her boss said and started typing on his computer, which was usually her cue to leave. But Linda had had enough. She looked at her boss’s face and felt a deep sadness. After all these years, this was how he treated her.

“Fine. I quit then. Effective immediately,” Linda said in the calmest voice possible. She didn’t have time to enjoy watching Mr. Salinger’s jaw hit the floor as she stormed out of his office. She went straight to her desk and picked up a few of her trinkets, photo frames, and purse. She was done.

“Linda! You can’t leave! You can’t quit!” Mr. Salinger yelled as she approached the elevator. The entire office turned to look at them in curiosity.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

“Goodbye, everyone!” Linda waved to her co-workers. “I’m officially retiring today!”

“FINE! GO THEN! WE CAN HIRE ANYONE TO DO YOUR JOB! IT’S THE EASIEST IN THE COMPANY! GO! YOU UNGRATEFUL OLD WOMAN!”

Linda’s co-workers had started to applaud but stopped when Mr. Salinger began yelling. She paid him no mind. She got in that elevator and left with a smile. She was free.

***

A month later, Linda was busy in her room trying to decide what to pack for Europe. She and her husband were leaving in a few days and would be traveling for at least two months. It was going to be amazing, but she needed to have wardrobe choices.

The doorbell rang. She walked to the door and was surprised to be greeted by Mr. Salinger’s saddened eyes.

“Mr. Salinger, what are you doing here?” she asked, shocked by his visit.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“Linda, I’m here because we need you. The company needs you. We hired a younger person, and she doesn’t know how to do anything. We’re desperate without you,” Mr. Salinger begged, his face showing his anguish.

“I thought anyone could do my job,” Linda quipped.

“Please! Don’t make me beg. We need you back. I can offer you a raise and that vacation time you asked for,” Mr. Salinger insisted, looking like he was about to bend to his knees.

But Linda shook her head. “There’s no money in the world that will make me go back to work, Mr. Salinger. I asked for very little from you over these decades. I was the best employee, and you still treated me like trash. I wasted so much time and missed many milestones in my family’s life. Now, it’s time to enjoy the fruits of my labor. I now know that work doesn’t matter. Spending time with your loved ones does. Goodbye, Mr. Salinger, and good luck,” she added calmly.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Mr. Salinger’s shoulders hunched, and Linda closed the door on his face.

What can we learn from this story?

  • Don’t waste your whole life on a job. The truth is that a company will replace you easily if something happens, so don’t dedicate your life to it.
  • Treat your employees well. Some employers don’t learn how valuable their employees are until it’s too late.

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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about an older woman who spent Christmas alone when her children discovered she was a cleaner.

This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life. 

I Was Sure My Partner Was a Widower – Until His Daughter Confessed She’s Been Seeing Her Mom on Saturdays

I thought Austin was the perfect man, a widower raising his daughter, grounded by tragedy. But everything unraveled the day his daughter whispered a chilling secret: her mother wasn’t dead.

Meeting Austin felt like finding a lighthouse in a storm. We met at a mutual friend’s housewarming party, where he stood by the fireplace, cradling a drink with practiced ease.

A man standing by a fireplace | Source: Midjourney

A man standing by a fireplace | Source: Midjourney

His eyes held a softness that I hadn’t seen in a long time; a quiet resilience beneath a tragedy.

“It’s been two years since my wife passed,” he told me later, his voice low and even. “Car accident. It’s just me and my daughter now.”

Austin’s vulnerability drew me in. He was attentive in ways that felt like a balm to my guarded heart. He was always texting to check if I’d made it home safely and showing up with dinner on nights he knew I’d had a long day.

A man holding a takeout bag | Source: Midjourney

A man holding a takeout bag | Source: Midjourney

It was sweet, even if, at times, it bordered on clingy. When he’d ask if I could “just send a quick text” when I was out with friends, I chalked it up to someone who’d been through loss and was just cautious about losing someone else.

As the weeks turned into months, his kindness and steady demeanor convinced me I’d found something real.

He introduced me to his daughter, Willow, a quiet 14-year-old who mostly lived with her grandmother.

A teen girl | Source: Midjourney

A teen girl | Source: Midjourney

She spent Sundays with Austin, and while she was always polite, there was a distance to her. She’d perch awkwardly on the edge of the couch during visits, her legs tucked under her like she wasn’t planning to stay long.

Six months in, I thought I knew him. I really did.

On Saturday, we celebrated Austin’s birthday. It was a small gathering, just a few close friends and Willow, who stayed overnight so she could spend Sunday with her dad.

Birthday decorations and cake | Source: Pexels

Birthday decorations and cake | Source: Pexels

The next morning, as I stood in the kitchen pouring my second coffee, I heard a whisper from the living room. The sound was faint, but it caught my attention.

“Sorry, Mom. You know yesterday was his birthday. I couldn’t come. I’ll call you later.”

I froze, the coffee pot still tilted mid-pour. Mom?

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

“Willow?” I called, trying to keep my voice steady as I walked into the living room. She was still clutching her phone, cheeks flushed.

She looked up, startled. “Yeah?”

“Did you just say ‘Mom’?”

Her eyes darted toward the hallway, then back to me.

A teen girl glancing nervously to one side | Source: Midjourney

A teen girl glancing nervously to one side | Source: Midjourney

“Oh,” she laughed, too high and too loud. “It’s just a friend. We call her ‘Mom’ as a joke.”

The explanation didn’t sit right, and Willow must’ve seen the doubt on my face. Before I could press further, she grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly firm for such a slight frame.

“Not here,” she hissed. “Let’s talk in the basement.”

The air in the basement was cool and damp, and Willow’s eyes darted toward the closed door as if it might betray her.

A closed door | Source: Pexels

A closed door | Source: Pexels

“You can’t tell Dad what I’m about to tell you,” she said, her voice trembling. “Promise me.”

“I… okay,” I said, though my heart was pounding. “What’s going on?”

“She’s not dead,” Willow whispered, each word a fragile shard. “My mom. She’s alive.”

I felt the world shift beneath me. “What? How… why would he think she’s dead?”

Willow looked down, her hands twisting the hem of her sweatshirt. “Because she wanted him to.”

A teen girl speaking to someone in a basement | Source: Midjourney

A teen girl speaking to someone in a basement | Source: Midjourney

“She left to escape him and his controlling behavior,” she added. “But he wouldn’t let her move on. He stalked her and threatened her. When the crash happened, she saw her chance.”

“Her chance?” My voice cracked.

“To disappear.” Willow swallowed hard. “It happened on a country road and the police assumed wild animals got her when they couldn’t find a body. Everyone believed it. She moved to another city. She thought it was the only way to be free.”

A teen girl in a basement | Source: Midjourney

A teen girl in a basement | Source: Midjourney

Her words came in gasps now. “I see her on Saturdays. She’s safe, but if Dad found out, he’d ruin her life all over again.”

Willow’s revelation sent my mind reeling. The ground I thought I’d been standing on felt suddenly unstable, like I’d been balancing on thin ice without realizing it.

Her words echoed in my head: “If Dad found out, he’d ruin her life all over again.” The Austin I thought I knew (a kind, steady man who loved deeply) didn’t match the Austin she described.

A disturbed woman | Source: Midjourney

A disturbed woman | Source: Midjourney

But the pieces she’d handed me started to slot into place. I couldn’t ignore the red flags any longer.

I began replaying moments I’d dismissed. The constant texts checking in (“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay”) had felt sweet at first, a sign he cared. But now I remembered the unease I’d felt when they came in rapid succession if I didn’t respond fast enough.

Then there was his subtle needling when I made plans without him: “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out with your friends?” or “I guess I just assumed we’d spend the evening together.”

A woman lost in thought | Source: Midjourney

A woman lost in thought | Source: Midjourney

At the time, I’d written it off as insecurity, nothing malicious. But now, it felt like a web was being spun tighter and tighter around me.

I decided I needed to test him. If Willow was right, Austin’s response to the smallest assertion of independence would tell me everything.

“I need some space,” I told him one evening, my voice steadier than I felt. My pulse hammered in my ears as I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Just to think about where we’re going.”

A woman speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney

A woman speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney

The air between us shifted, his expression freezing for the briefest moment before he forced a smile. It was a practiced smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Of course,” he said, his tone gentle but strained. “Take all the time you need. Just don’t forget how much I care about you.”

I nodded, unsure what else to say. For a moment, I let myself believe he’d taken it well.

A concerned woman | Source: Midjourney

A concerned woman | Source: Midjourney

His texts began the next morning, one after another, faster than I could respond.

“Hey, just checking in.”

“I hope everything’s okay.”

“I miss you. Can we talk soon?”

By the time I arrived at work, my phone was buzzing incessantly. By lunchtime, he was standing outside the building with a bouquet in his hand.

A man holding a bouquet | Source: Midjourney

A man holding a bouquet | Source: Midjourney

His smile stretched too wide as he greeted me, his presence jarring against the normalcy of my workday.

“I just wanted to see you,” he said, handing me the flowers. His eyes scanned my face like he was searching for something, reassurance, maybe. Or a sign that I’d give in.

I tried to deflect, thanking him but keeping my distance. “I’m really busy today, Austin. We’ll talk later.”

A woman waving while walking away | Source: Midjourney

A woman waving while walking away | Source: Midjourney

He nodded, but his smile faltered as I turned and walked away. By the time I reached the elevator, my hands were shaking.

That evening, as I approached my apartment, I spotted him standing by the entrance. He didn’t have flowers this time, just his presence, looming and uninvited.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. But his eyes… there was something darker there now, something I couldn’t ignore.

A man with an unsettling smile | Source: Midjourney

A man with an unsettling smile | Source: Midjourney

My instincts screamed at me to run, but I forced myself to stay calm.

“Austin, this isn’t okay,” I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound firm. “You need to go.”

He hesitated, then gave me that tight, brittle smile again. “I just wanted to talk.”

Once he left, I bolted the door and called my friend, Mark.

A woman making a phone call | Source: Midjourney

A woman making a phone call | Source: Midjourney

Mark was a cop so if anyone could help me out, it was him. My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped the phone.

When he answered, the words spilled out in a torrent, my voice cracking under the weight of my fear.

Mark listened patiently, his tone steady when he spoke. “You did the right thing calling me,” he said. “If he steps out of line again, we’ll deal with him.”

A woman speaking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman speaking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

The next day, I spotted Austin again as I left work. My heart sank, but this time, Mark was ready. He stepped out of his squad car with an authority that seemed to fill the space around him.

“Austin,” Mark said, his voice calm but steely. “This stops now. If you keep this up, there will be legal consequences. Leave her alone.”

For a moment, Austin just stared at him, his jaw tight and his fists clenching at his sides. Then his mask slipped.

A glaring man | Source: Midjourney

A glaring man | Source: Midjourney

The glare he directed at me was sharp, venomous, and unrecognizable. It was a glimpse of the man Willow had warned me about.

“I just wanted to talk,” he muttered, his voice low and defensive. But he stepped back, his movements deliberate as he turned and walked away.

Mark stayed until I was safely inside my car, his presence a quiet reassurance. But the image of Austin’s glare stayed with me, etched into my mind like a warning.

A woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney

The man I’d once trusted completely was gone, replaced by someone I barely recognized.

I blocked Austin on everything: my phone, my email, and even social media. Then I packed a bag and moved in with my friend, Jennifer for a while. The relief of distance was like air filling my lungs after weeks of suffocation.

Sitting in Jennifer’s guest room that night, I thought about how dangerously close I’d come to losing myself.

A woman sitting on a bed | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting on a bed | Source: Midjourney

I thought of Willow, her small hands clutching her sweatshirt in the basement, and her mother, rebuilding a life from ashes.

If they could find the strength to start over, so could I. I wasn’t just escaping Austin; I was reclaiming my life. And this time, I would be more careful.

Here’s another story: My new neighbor was making my life hell between his dawn wood chopping and that destructive dog. We were on the verge of an all-out war when his seven-year-old daughter showed up crying on my doorstep with a desperate plea for help.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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