“How can someone be so heartless based on an outfit? Does a title really give you the right to forget basic human decency?”
Victor pointed toward the door:
— “Get back to the luggage, Sam. This isn’t your concern. Go do your job.”
Sam walked back down to the lobby and looked at Michael. The old man’s eyes were still calm. Sam knelt down beside him.
— “I’m sorry, sir,” he said quietly. “I tried. But the manager is refusing to see anyone right now.”
Michael patted the young man’s shoulder with a weathered hand:
— “It’s alright, son. You tried, and you showed me respect. That’s more than enough for me.”
Sam felt a lump in his throat. He sensed that this man wasn’t just some random passerby. There was a strange, quiet power in his simplicity.
The atmosphere in the lobby grew even heavier. Between the snickers of the wealthy guests and Michael’s silent poise, the tension was palpable. Another hour passed. Michael remained on that uncomfortable chair.
He closed his eyes for a moment and thought, *Patience is a strength few possess. But now, it’s time for the truth to come out.* The lobby clock struck 12:30. Michael decided he had waited long enough.
He stood up, gripped his cane, slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked straight toward the manager’s stairs. The guests began to whisper again:
— “Look at him go! He’s actually going to try and storm the office. This should be good.”
Paula saw him approaching and rolled her eyes:
— “Sir, I told you in plain English: wait. The manager is busy.”
Michael looked her in the eye, his voice soft but steel-hard:
— “Ma’am, I have waited longer than I should have. I’m going to speak with him now, whether he’s ready or not.”
He walked past her and up the stairs. The lobby fell into a dead silence.
Everyone watched as he reached the top. Michael opened the office door without knocking. Victor, leaning back in his chair, looked up and scowled.
— “What now?” he snapped. “What’s with the attitude? What do you want?”
Michael slowly opened his old bag. He pulled out a thick, cream-colored envelope and set it on the desk:
— “Here is my reservation, along with some documents regarding the hotel’s operations. I suggest you read them carefully.”
Victor let out a short, mocking breath. He picked up the envelope with two fingers, as if it were contaminated, and tossed it to the edge of the desk without opening it.
His laugh was full of the arrogance of a man who thought he was untouchable.
— “Listen, old-timer,” he said. “When a man has no money, talking about ‘reservations’ is just a waste of everyone’s time. I can tell a person’s net worth just by looking at their face. This hotel isn’t for you. Do yourself a favor and leave before I have security escort you out.”
Michael stared him down. His voice dropped into a deep, authoritative register:
— “Victor, how can you judge a man without looking at the facts? Look at the papers you just threw aside. Reality is often different from appearances.”
Victor leaned back and laughed even louder:
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