Concierge Watson sneers at a stinky tourist and declines his request for a room at the opulent Grand Lumière Hotel. When the traveler comes back looking stylish, Watson knows that his error can cost him more than his job.
Even with rain beating down the Grand Lumière Hotel’s windows, the chandeliers in the foyer continued to shine. The weather could never overwhelm the sumptuous mood.
Mr. Watson, the hotel’s concierge, was positioned squarely behind the glossy marble reception counter.
His sharp eyes swept over the foyer, making sure every element lived up to the five-star establishment’s high standards. Nothing was misplaced. up until…
A burst of wind and a few drops of rain hit the hardwood floors as the doors swung open. Mr. Watson wrinkled his nose, however, at the disheveled figure.
A man staggered in the direction of the desk, leaving muddy traces behind him.
His clothing sagged limply from his form, soaking through. The concierge could tell he hadn’t showered in days by his shaggy beard, the smell of damp dog, and stale smokes.
Mr. Watson furrowed his nose even more. He said, his voice icy and clipped, “May I help you?”
The man looked up. “Please,” he croaked weakly, “I need a room for the night. My car broke down a few miles back, and I’ve been walking in this downpour for hours.”
Mr. Watson shook his head, “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir.” “We have no vacancies at the moment.”
“But surely there must be something. I can pay whatever the rate is. I just need a place to sleep and dry off.”
“As I said,” Mr. Watson repeated, his lip curling, “we have no rooms available for someone in your… condition. Perhaps you might try the motel down by the highway. I’m sure their standards would be more… accommodating.”
The man’s face fell and his shoulders slumped. But for a small second, anger flashed in his eyes. “I see,” he said quietly. “Thank you for your time.”
Swinging around, he lurched back toward the doors.
After observing him go, Mr. Watson summoned a bellhop. With a gesture toward the muddy footsteps, he gave the order, “Call maintenance to clean this up.” “We can’t have the lobby looking like a pigsty.”
Mr. Watson grinned, pleased to have that filthy individual stay away from his hotel, as the young bellhop raced to comply.
But he will soon pay a price for his deeds.
The lobby doors slid open again an hour later. Mr. Watson looked up, his rehearsed smile ready to welcome another visitor.
He was shocked to see a well-dressed man approach the counter with assurance. His shoes gleamed like mirrors, his salt-and-pepper hair was carefully brushed, and his outfit was perfectly made.
Mr. Watson took a time to identify the face under the neatly cropped beard. When he realized it was the same man he had sent away earlier, his eyes widened in disbelief.
The man approached the desk with a slight smile playing on his lips. “Good evening,” he said smoothly. “I’d like a room for the night, please.”
Mr. Watson swallowed hard. “Of course, sir,” he managed to say. “May I ask what happened to your previous attire?”
“Ah, yes,” the man chuckled. “I found a truck stop down the road with showers and a small clothing shop. Amazing what a little soap and a clean suit can do, isn’t it?”
With a curt nod, Mr. Watson turned away and tapped on his computer to see if there was a room available. “We have a standard room on the third floor,” he stated.
“That will do nicely,” the man answered.
Mr. Watson couldn’t resist saying, “I have to admit, sir, you clean up pretty well,” as he completed the reservation. “Like night and day, it is.”
“Yes, well, appearances can be deceiving, can’t they?”
Mr. Watson handed over the key card and nodded, pursing his lips. “Indeed, they can. Enjoy your stay, Mr…?”
“Bloomington,” said the man. “Thank you, I’m sure I will.”
Mr. Watson observed as Mr. Bloomington turned to leave. Something tightened in his chest that he was unable to describe. that he had done something wrong.
He wouldn’t apologize, though. All of their guests had to, at the very least, look the part, since it was his responsibility to maintain the hotel’s opulence, reputation, and cleanliness.
But Mr. Watson made a point of avoiding Mr. Bloomington during his visit. When compelled to communicate, he was dismissive and abrupt.
On the third day of Mr. Bloomington’s visit, Mr. Watson was in charge of the hotel’s formal dining room’s breakfast service.
He went from table to table, making sure every visitor was happy with their food and overall experience. He heard a talk that chilled him to the bone as he walked up to Mr. Bloomington’s table.
“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Bloomington was saying into his phone. “I’ve been here for three days now, observing operations incognito. I think I’ve seen enough to make some necessary changes.”
Mr. Watson became motionless. Not visible to others? Modifications? Who was this, Mr. Bloomington, exactly?
Mr. Bloomington looked up, as if knowing his presence, and met Mr. Watson’s stunned gaze. He grinned, but his eyes lacked warmth.
“Ah, Mr. Watson,” he said smoothly. “Just the man I wanted to see. Would you join me for a moment?”
The request made his heart race. The speaker’s words had such weight that he felt his chest tighten, and a flash of insight struck him.
Did Mr. Bloomington hold greater significance than the concierge had thought?
Mr. Watson collapsed onto the chair across from Mr. Bloomington, devoid of feeling. Leaning forward, the man spoke in a forceful yet low voice.
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he said. “My first name is Charles, but you can keep calling me Mr. Bloomington. I recently acquired this hotel chain, and I’ve been visiting each property to assess their operations firsthand.”
Mr. Watson’s face turned pale as the realization of his recent deeds finally dawned on him. He sputtered, “You’re… you’re the new owner?”
Mr. Bloomington nodded gravely. “That’s correct, and so is the CEO. And I must say, Mr. Watson, I’ve been less than impressed with what I’ve observed here, particularly concerning your treatment of guests you deem… unworthy.”
Mr. Watson parted his lips to object, but he remained silent. Pale and with a fish mouth, he sat there while Mr. Bloomington went on.
“A hotel’s primary function is to provide hospitality to all its guests, regardless of their appearance or circumstances. Your behavior has been not only unprofessional but also cruel. Is this really the image we want to project to our clientele?”
“No, sir,” Mr. Watson reprimanded in a whisper. “It’s not.”
Standing, the new CEO gave a sidelong nod. “Follow me.”
A few minutes afterward, Mr. Watson was occupying the previous hotel manager’s office, which had been Mr. Bloomington’s new temporary workspace.
The CEO was seated behind the desk, his fingertips tapping the sleek, polished oak.
“Mr. Watson,” he began, “I hope you understand the gravity of your actions. This hotel has always prided itself on providing exceptional service to all our guests. Your behavior over the past few days has fallen far short of that standard.”
Mr. Watson was unable to talk, but he nodded. Having worked for his current employer for more than fifteen years, he was prepared for the inevitable.
“I’m happy you acknowledge that. What will we do about it is the question at hand.”
“Sir?” Mr. Watson raised his head in surprise.
“I believe in second chances, Mr. Watson. More importantly, I believe this experience can be a valuable lesson not just for you, but for our entire staff. Are you willing to learn from this and help implement changes to ensure it never happens again?”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Watson said, gasping with relief that overcame him. “Yes, without a doubt. I’ll take any necessary action to put this right.”
The new CEO nodded and said, “Good.” “Then here’s what we’re going to do.”
In the weeks that followed, the Grand Lumière Hotel changed. All guests, regardless of appearance, were to be treated equally under the new standards that were implemented.
They could have a room if they could afford it.
Mr. Watson created a training program to assist personnel in identifying and overcoming their biases in an attempt to demonstrate his value.
In addition, the concierge started working at a nearby homeless shelter in order to better himself.
Things started to shift at the motel, slowly but steadily. Genuine friendliness and respect were extended to visitors from all walks of life.
Since some employees no longer seemed to be valued more than others at work, the team collaborated better.
However, Mr. Watson’s newfound perspective on his work was still unproven.
Like the night it had all begun, it was a wet evening and the concierge was in his usual spot behind the reception counter.
The doors opened, letting in a disheveled visitor who was looking for cover from the storm.
For a second, Mr. Watson’s old instincts surfaced, but he schooled himself and adopted a warm smile. “Welcome to the Grand Lumière,” he said kindly. “How may we assist you this evening?”
Across the lobby, Mr. Watson caught Mr. Bloomington’s eye as he assisted the appreciative visitor with check-in.
The CEO gave a nod of approval.
Mr. Watson sighed slightly and went back to work. At the Grand Lumière Hotel, things had changed, and he was relieved that he had not thrown away his second opportunity.