"Help me move something"—a perfectly ordinary exchange between colleagues.
If this had been before, the driver would have gotten out immediately to help.
That was because, as far as his job was concerned, he wasn't indispensable. He wasn't one of those scientists whose absence could bring a research project to a standstill.
He wasn't! Without him, anyone could take his place and do the same job.
So before, he wouldn't have hesitated to get out of the car.
Today, he hesitated for a moment because this clearly wasn't his job. Before, he had been afraid of losing this job, but now he wasn't.
He still got out, though—not for the sake of his colleague, but for the sake of the money.
He needed to help carry a small cardboard box into the Presidential Palace. The box was somewhat heavy.
After they entered the Presidential Palace, the colleague suddenly asked him a question.
"What do you think of our security measures?"
It was a very abrupt question.
The driver stopped in his tracks and froze for a moment, but soon continued walking. "They're pretty good, quite thorough. Sometimes tourists want to come in, but they're all stopped."
He was still smiling as he spoke, but he suddenly felt as if he needed to take a dump. He had already gone that morning, but now he felt the urge again.
He didn't really need to take a dump. He was just too nervous!
He had a habitual reaction that had been with him since childhood: whenever he became nervous or afraid, or whenever any negative emotion arose, he would feel the urge to take a dump.
It was related to what he had experienced as a child.
His father had been an alcoholic. Whenever he got drunk, he would beat the driver