The Price of Prestige: Marcus Johnson’s Journey Beyond the Rolex

The Rolex Submariner gleamed under the pristine lighting of Prestige Time Pieces, San Francisco’s renowned luxury watch store. To many, it was just a watch — a symbol of success, craftsmanship, and timeless elegance. But for Marcus Johnson, it was a dream he had nurtured for three long years. A dream born not just out of admiration for fine watches but as a testament to his own hard work, sacrifice, and determination.

Marcus had saved every extra hour, every tip, every bonus from his job as a personal driver for NBA superstar Steph Curry. The Rolex Submariner was not the most expensive model in the store, but to Marcus, it was the perfect symbol of what he had achieved—a milestone marking years of perseverance and quiet ambition.

On a rare day off, with Steph away on a family retreat, Marcus prepared himself mentally. Today, he would walk into Prestige Time Pieces not as a spectator but as a customer ready to claim his dream. He had researched the store for months, memorized the models in the window, and rehearsed what he would say. But nothing could have prepared him for the invisible barrier he was about to face

Marcus woke early in his modest Oakland apartment, the city still cloaked in dawn’s pale light. At 35, the son of a teacher and a mechanic, Marcus carried the marks of a life built on hard work etched into his face. His mother’s words echoed in his mind: “Character is what you do when no one is looking.” This lesson had guided him since childhood, instilling a quiet dignity and an unyielding work ethic.

His professional journey began humbly at 16, washing cars, then driving limousines, and finally, four years ago, landing a life-changing job as Steph Curry’s personal driver. The position was more than a paycheck; it was a badge of respect and trust. “Working for Steph changed my life,” Marcus confided once to his brother. “It’s not just the salary—it’s the respect.”

During long drives ferrying Steph around the Bay Area, Marcus developed a fascination with luxury watches. What started as curiosity soon became an obsession with craftsmanship, history, and precision. He spent his spare time studying catalogs and online forums, learning the nuances of watchmaking.

That morning, Marcus approached Prestige Time Pieces with a mixture of excitement and resolve. The store occupied a prestigious spot in Union Square, its black velvet showcases and strategic lighting designed to make each watch appear as a precious jewel floating in space. Inside, the atmosphere was refined yet intimidating.

Marcus adjusted his shirt collar, smoothed his hair, and stepped through the heavy glass door. Three salespeople were engaged with other customers, and for a moment, Marcus felt invisible. He waited patiently, observing the well-dressed couple sipping champagne and the young man in an impeccable suit absorbed in his phone.

After several minutes, Marcus moved toward the showcase displaying the Rolex Submariner he had dreamed of owning. As he admired the watch, a man approached—a sharply dressed gentleman in his sixties with perfectly combed hair and a scrutinizing gaze.

“May I help you?” the man asked, his tone more an interrogation than an offer of assistance.

“Good morning,” Marcus replied politely. “I’m interested in seeing this Submariner up close.”

The man introduced himself as Richard Bennett, the store owner. Instead of immediately showing the watch, Richard appraised Marcus with a skeptical eye, silently evaluating his appearance.

“That model costs $12,500,” Richard said, his voice testing Marcus’s reaction.

“I’m aware,” Marcus answered calmly. “That’s exactly the one I want.”

With visible hesitation, Richard unlocked the case and removed the watch. Marcus spoke passionately about the piece—the precision of its movement, its historical significance, and its exceptional craftsmanship. Richard remained silent, the tension between them thickening.

Then came the question that cut deeper than the price tag: “How do you intend to pay for this today?”

Marcus, realizing he had not been offered the usual courtesies extended to other customers—no seat, no water, no champagne—answered, “Bank transfer.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Would you mind showing proof of funds? Just as a precaution—these are high-value items.”

Marcus discreetly glanced at the couple who had been trying on watches without being asked for financial proof. Maintaining his dignity, he pulled out his bank statement and placed it on the counter.

Richard examined it with barely concealed doubt. Meanwhile, a young salesperson made a subtle gesture to a security guard, who began to approach.

The store’s atmosphere shifted palpably. Other customers cast curious glances, whispering among themselves.

Richard returned the bank statement with a dismissive wave. “This model has a waiting list. Perhaps I can show you some more accessible alternatives.”

The implication was clear: Marcus did not belong here.

Marcus took a deep breath. “Mr. Bennett,” he said, noticing the name badge, “I’m here specifically for this model. I’ve saved for three years and have the funds, as you can see. I’d like to know why I’m being treated differently from other customers.”

The direct confrontation rattled Richard. His eyes narrowed, and a flush crept up his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied curtly. “We’re just following standard security protocols.”

“Protocols that seem to apply selectively,” Marcus observed, keeping his voice calm but firm.

Richard abruptly collected the watch. “Perhaps you should come back another day. We’re particularly busy, and I believe your presence is making other customers uncomfortable.”

The words hit Marcus like a slap.

“I understand what’s happening here,” he said, his voice trembling with restrained emotion. “And I want you to know you’re making a serious error in judgment.”

Richard crossed his arms. “If you don’t leave voluntarily, I’ll have to ask security to escort you out.”

Head held high, Marcus walked toward the door. The fresh San Francisco air hit his face like a balm after the suffocating atmosphere inside. He breathed deeply, trying to regain his composure.

Then, he heard a familiar voice: “Marcus!”

Turning, he saw Steph Curry approaching, wearing dark glasses and a discreet cap.

“Steph! I thought you were on retreat with your family,” Marcus said, genuinely surprised.

“Last-minute change of plans,” Steph replied, his brow furrowed as he took in Marcus’s expression. “Is everything okay? You seem shaken.”

For years, Marcus kept his personal and professional lives separate, but something in Steph’s genuine concern broke that barrier.

“Actually, no,” Marcus admitted, nodding toward the store. “I just had a pretty unpleasant experience in there.”

In a few words, Marcus recounted the discriminatory treatment he had endured. Steph’s expression hardened.

“That’s not right,” he said firmly. “Let’s go back in.”

“It’s not necessary, Steph,” Marcus protested.

“Exactly why we need to go back,” Steph interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “Nobody should get used to this.”

They re-entered Prestige Time Pieces. Richard Bennett was still at the counter. His initial irritation froze when he recognized Steph Curry accompanying Marcus. The store fell silent. Customers stopped their browsing, mouths agape at the presence of the Golden State Warriors star.

“Good morning,” Steph said politely but with steely eyes. “You must be the owner.”

Richard seemed momentarily speechless, his face oscillating between shock and dread as he connected the dots.

“Yes, I’m Richard Bennett,” he finally said. “It’s an incredible honor to receive you here, Mr. Curry.”

Steph shook the offered hand briefly but remained serious. “I’d like to introduce you to someone who wasn’t properly recognized here today.”

He placed a hand on Marcus’s shoulder.

“This is Marcus Johnson, my personal driver for four years and, more importantly, someone I fully trust.”

Richard’s face visibly paled.

“Marcus told me about his experience here this morning,” Steph continued. “I’m deeply disappointed with the treatment he received.”

Richard stammered, “There was a terrible misunderstanding. We never—I would never—”

Steph cut in, “Marcus came here to buy a watch he has admired for years. He saved for a long time and deserves the same respect and dignity as any customer.”

Richard ran his hand through his hair, visibly shaken. “Absolutely, Mr. Curry. It was a terrible error in judgment on my part.”

Turning to Marcus, he added, “I offer my most sincere apologies.”

What had been suspicion and disdain was replaced by an almost surreal atmosphere of exaggerated service. Champagne was brought, the watch carefully arranged, and Marcus finally placed the Submariner on his wrist.

“It’s perfect,” he said, allowing himself a moment of genuine appreciation despite the circumstances.

“Absolutely magnificent on your wrist, Mr. Johnson,” Richard agreed. “And of course, we’ll offer a special discount as a gesture of goodwill.”

“No special discount necessary,” Marcus interrupted calmly. “Just the fair price offered to any customer.”

The transaction was completed efficiently, but as Marcus left the store, the feeling was bittersweet. The dream had come true, but the taste of humiliation lingered.

In the days that followed, a customer had recorded part of the incident. The video spread rapidly online, sparking a public relations storm for Prestige Time Pieces. Richard issued a public apology, but the damage was done.

A week later, Marcus received an unexpected call.

“Mr. Johnson, this is Richard Bennett. I’d like to request a private conversation.”

They met at a small café on the Embarcadero. Richard looked aged beyond his years.

“Thank you for coming,” Richard said. “I’ve been thinking a lot. I can’t escape the uncomfortable truth—I treated you that way because of the color of your skin.”

The admission hung between them, frank and irrefutable.

“The hardest part,” Richard continued, “was admitting it wasn’t an isolated incident. It’s the result of prejudices I’ve carried for decades.”

“Recognition is the first step,” Marcus said. “But what do you intend to do about it?”

“I’m closing the store for two weeks for everyone to participate in anti-racism training,” Richard explained. “But I realize that’s just the beginning. I’d like you to help me promote real change—not just here but across the luxury sector.”

“Why would I help someone who publicly humiliated me?” Marcus asked bluntly.

“Because you’re the kind of man who values systemic change over personal revenge. And honestly, I can’t do this alone.”

In the months that followed, an unlikely partnership blossomed. Richard shut down the store to reform policies and procedures. Marcus acted as a consultant, identifying subtle discriminatory practices normalized in luxury retail.

Three months later, they organized “Conversations on Inclusion in the Luxury Market,” a panel featuring diversity experts, industry leaders, and Steph Curry as a special guest.

“When I was invited, I hesitated,” Curry admitted during his speech. “But I saw the genuine work Marcus and Richard have done, turning a regrettable moment into a catalyst for change.”

The event attracted national attention and sparked important conversations.

Prestige Time Pieces launched an internship program for underprivileged youth interested in watchmaking.

Six months after the incident, Marcus finally wore his Rolex Submariner with pride—not as a symbol of pain, but of progress.

As he got into the car at the Chase Center, Steph noticed the watch.

“Finally wearing the Submariner, huh?” Steph smiled.

“I decided it was time,” Marcus replied. “Some things are too valuable to keep hidden.”

“You turned something terrible into something important, Marcus. That’s rarer and more precious than any Rolex.”

Marcus reflected on the journey—the watch marked not just time, but the rhythm of change spreading through the world. A world where character, not color, would define a person’s worth.