An Unwelcome Touch
A man in grease-stained gray overalls rests his open palm flat against the polished roof of a dark blue sedan.
A salesman in a tailored black suit marches across the showroom floor and grabs the man’s forearm, yanking it away from the paint.
The salesman leans in close, his face tightening as he tells the older man to back away because he cannot afford what is on display.
The older man looks straight at him without flinching, his graying stubble and weathered face remaining completely relaxed.
“You don’t know that,” the older man says softly.
The salesman steps into his space, his jaw clenched, demanding that he step completely away from the vehicle.
Refusing To Back Down
The salesman grips the rough fabric of the coverall sleeve, attempting to guide the visitor toward the glass exit doors.
He points out the man’s stained clothes and tells him he is wasting valuable time inside a luxury dealership.
The visitor tugs his arm free and maintains his stance on the tiled floor.
“Call your director,” the older man says in an even tone.
The salesman sneers, shaking his head and insisting he does not need to call anyone to remove a loiterer.
Footsteps click rapidly across the polished tiles behind them.
A Sudden Arrival
A woman in a sharp dark blazer strides through the entrance with wide eyes and an open mouth.
“Mister Carter!” she calls out, cutting across the room toward them.
The older man turns his head and greets her by name with a calm, familiar smile.
The salesman looks back and forth between them, his eyebrows knitting together as he asks if she actually knows the man standing in front of him.
The woman turns directly to her employee, her voice rising with disbelief.
She explains that Mr. Carter is the client whose business just purchased twenty vehicles from their fleet.
Mr. Carter reaches inside his jacket pocket, pulls out a worn leather wallet, and flips it open to reveal his credentials.
Handing Over The Keys
The young salesman lowers his gaze, his shoulders dropping several inches as the color drains from his face.
He stammers an apology, but Mr. Carter holds up a hand to cut him off.
“You weren’t sorry,” Mr. Carter tells him plainly. “You were confident.”
The director steps between them, facing the salesman directly to inform him that his time with the company is finished.
The young man unclips his white plastic identification badge from his lapel and drops it into his boss’s outstretched palm.
Mr. Carter turns away from both of them, pulls open the driver’s side door of the blue sedan, slides onto the dark leather seat, and grips the steering wheel.
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