At eleven o’clock in the morning, an elderly man in plain, somewhat weathered clothing slowly approached the city’s premier five-star hotel. His name was Michael Lewis. In his hand, he carried an old, scuffed leather bag that had clearly seen better decades.
As he reached the main entrance, the security guard’s face immediately tightened with disapproval. He stepped forward, blocking the path with a look of pure condescension.
— “Hey, pops,” he said gruffly. “What are you doing here? You looking for the bus stop?”
Michael Lewis replied with a faint, steady smile:
— “Actually, I have a reservation. I just wanted to confirm a few details before checking in.”
The guard let out a short, mocking laugh and glanced at his partner:
— “Get a load of this. The old-timer says he’s got a reservation.”
Turning back to Michael, the guard’s tone became even more dismissive:
— “Look, sir, you’ve clearly got the wrong address. Maybe someone’s playing a joke on you. This is a high-end establishment, the best in the state. We host executives and dignitaries. A man on a fixed income couldn’t afford a cup of coffee in the lobby, let alone a room.”
Just then, Paula, the front desk manager, overheard the exchange. Known for her sharp tongue and expensive tastes, she looked Michael up and down, noting the frayed cuffs of his jacket. A thin, cold smile touched her lips.
— “Sir,” Paula said with practiced indifference, “I highly doubt you’re in our system. Our suites run upwards of eight hundred dollars a night. You’re likely looking for the motel down the interstate.”
Michael remained calm, his dignity unshaken:
— “Ma’am, if you could just check the database. The reservation should be under my name.”
Paula gave a dismissive shrug, clearly unwilling to waste her time:
— “Fine. I’ll look into it when things quiet down. It’ll be a while; I have actual guests to attend to. You can wait in the corner of the lounge, just try not to disturb anyone.”
Michael nodded and walked slowly toward the plush seating area.
The well-dressed guests in the marble lobby watched him with a mix of curiosity and distaste. One man whispered to his companion:
— “He’s probably hoping for a free continental breakfast.”
Another added with a smirk:
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