Stephen Curry’s Driver Is Treated Like a Thief in a Watch Store – Until the Owner Learns the Truth | HO

The Rolex Submariner gleamed under the pristine lighting of Prestige Time Pieces, its allure seemingly within reach yet separated from most by more than just the glass showcase. For Marcus Johnson, a 35-year-old Oakland native, that invisible barrier was about to reveal itself as something far more impenetrable than security glass. After saving diligently for three years, Marcus believed $12,500 would be enough to secure his dream watch. But in the world of luxury retail, he was about to learn that money wasn’t the only price some customers are expected to pay.

Marcus’s story began long before he stepped into the upscale Union Square boutique. The son of a teacher and a mechanic, he’d been taught the value of hard work and integrity. “Character is what you do when no one is looking,” his mother always said—a lesson Marcus carried through jobs washing cars, driving limousines, and eventually, to a life-changing opportunity: becoming the personal driver for NBA superstar Stephen Curry.

“Working for Steph changed my life,” Marcus once told his brother. “It’s not just the salary—it’s about the respect.” During countless hours behind the wheel, Marcus developed a fascination with luxury watches, drawn to their craftsmanship and history. He poured every overtime hour, every tip, and every bonus into what he called his “dream fund,” with one goal: a Rolex Submariner, not for its price tag, but for what it represented—a symbol of personal achievement.

On a rare day off, with Curry away on a family retreat, Marcus set out for Prestige Time Pieces. He had researched the store for months, passing by its windows with disciplined admiration. That morning, he dressed carefully, adjusted his shirt, and stepped inside, heart pounding.

The store was as elegant as he’d imagined: strategic lighting, velvet displays, and an air of exclusivity. Three salespeople clustered at the counter, one attending to a well-dressed couple with champagne, another explaining details to an older gentleman. The third, a young man in an impeccable suit, barely looked up from his phone as Marcus entered.

Minutes ticked by. Five. Ten. No one approached. Undeterred, Marcus walked to the showcase displaying his dream watch. Only then did a man in his sixties, with perfectly combed hair and a tailored suit, approach him—more with suspicion than hospitality.

“May I help you?” the man asked, his tone more interrogative than welcoming.

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

The man, Richard Bennett—the store owner—didn’t move to open the case. Instead, he scanned Marcus from head to toe, evaluating his appearance. “That particular model costs $12,500,” he said, as if testing Marcus’s reaction.

“Yes, I’m aware. That’s exactly the one I’m interested in,” Marcus replied.

With visible hesitation, Richard finally removed the watch. Marcus admired its precision, commenting on its heritage. But instead of sharing more about the timepiece, Richard asked, “And how do you intend to pay for this today?”

“Bank transfer,” Marcus answered, feeling the first pulse of indignation. He noted he hadn’t been offered a seat, water, or champagne—courtesies extended to others.

“I see,” Richard replied, tilting his head. “Would it be possible to see some proof of funds, just as a precaution? These are high-value items.”

Marcus discreetly glanced at the couple across the store—no one had asked them for financial proof. Still, he produced his bank statement, placing it on the counter. Richard examined it with skepticism, while the young salesperson made a subtle gesture to the security guard, who began to approach.

“You know,” Richard continued, returning the statement with a dismissive gesture, “this particular model has a waiting list. Perhaps we could show you some more accessible alternatives.”

The implication was clear. Marcus took a deep breath. “Mr. Bennett,” he said, having noted the name on the badge, “I’ve saved for three years for this watch. I have the necessary funds, as you can see. I’d like to know why I’m being treated differently from other customers.”

Richard’s face reddened. “We’re just following standard security protocols.”

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

Richard abruptly collected the watch. “Perhaps it would be better if you returned another day. We’re particularly busy, and I believe your presence is making our other customers uncomfortable.”

The words hit Marcus like a slap. “I understand what’s happening here,” Marcus said, his voice trembling with contained emotion. “And you’re making a serious error in judgment.”

“If you don’t leave voluntarily, I’ll have to ask our security guard to escort you,” Richard replied.

Marcus kept his head high as he left. The fresh air of San Francisco was a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere he’d just endured. As he tried to regain his composure, a familiar voice called out.

“Hey Marcus!”

Turning, Marcus saw Stephen Curry, incognito in sunglasses and a cap. “Steph? I thought you were on retreat.”

“Last-minute change of plans,” Curry said, noticing Marcus’s shaken demeanor. “Is everything okay?”

For years, Marcus had kept his personal and professional lives separate, but now the barrier broke. He explained the discriminatory treatment he’d just endured. Curry’s expression hardened.

“That’s not right,” Curry said quietly. “Let’s go back in there.”

“No, Steph, it’s not necessary—”

“Exactly why we need to,” Curry interrupted.

Back inside, the store fell silent as Curry entered. Richard Bennett’s face shifted from irritation to disbelief as he realized who was with Marcus.

“Good morning,” Curry said, polite but firm. “You must be the owner.”

“Yes, I’m Richard Bennett. It’s an honor to have you, Mr. Curry.”

Curry introduced Marcus. “This is Marcus Johnson, my personal driver for four years and someone I fully trust. I’m deeply disappointed by the treatment he received.”

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

“Marcus came here to buy a watch he’s admired for years,” Curry cut in. “He deserves to be treated with the same respect as anyone else.”

Richard, visibly shaken, apologized profusely. The staff scrambled to offer champagne and service. Marcus tried on the Submariner, savoring the moment despite the circumstances. When offered a discount, he declined: “Just the fair price, as for any customer.”

The transaction finished quickly. Outside, the feeling was bittersweet. The dream was realized, but the sting of humiliation lingered. Days later, a partially recorded video of the incident went viral, thrusting Prestige Time Pieces into a public relations storm.

A week after, Richard Bennett called Marcus, requesting a private conversation. At a café, Richard admitted, “I treated you that way because of the color of your skin. It wasn’t an isolated incident. I want to change—not just my store, but the industry.”

Marcus agreed to help, valuing systemic change over personal revenge. Together, they reformed store policies and launched an inclusion initiative. Three months later, they hosted a panel on diversity in luxury retail, with Curry as a special guest. The event sparked national conversation and led to new opportunities for underprivileged youth.

Six months after the incident, Marcus wore his Submariner again—not as a reminder of pain, but as a symbol of change. “Some things are too valuable to keep stored away,” he told Curry. “You turned something terrible into something important, Marcus,” Curry replied. “That’s rarer than any Rolex.”

For Marcus, the watch now marked not just time, but progress—a step toward a world where character, not color, opens every door.