A Sudden Interruption In The Marble Hallway
A young man in a dark suit stepped directly into the center of the marble corridor, cutting off the path of an older man carrying a leather folder.
The older man wore dark blue utility work clothes and held a yellow dusting cloth in his left hand. His pace slowed to a complete stop as the younger man pointed a sharp finger toward the side wall.
“Staff like you use the back corridor,” the suited staffer said, adjusting the plastic badge pinned against his chest.
The man in the blue shirt tilted his head slightly. “Staff like me?”
“Come on, don’t make this difficult,” the staffer replied, resting one hand firmly on his hip. “You know where maintenance belongs.”
A Refusal To Look At The Facts
The man in work clothes shifted his weight onto his back foot. “I’m going into that courtroom.”
The staffer shook his head immediately and waved an open palm across the air between them. “Not dressed like that you’re not.”
“You might want to ask who I am first,” the older man said, his voice dropping into a calm, measured register.
The staffer did not pause to listen. “Nope, you’re done. Back hallway, now.”
The man in the jumpsuit extended both hands forward, presenting the thick leather folder resting between his palms. “Open this and read the name.”
“I don’t need your paperwork,” the staffer scoffed, flinging a dismissive hand toward the binding.
“That’s your mistake,” the older man answered without pulling the file back.
The staffer stepped in closer, his jaw tightening as he reached toward his back pocket. “Move before I have security move you.”
The older man nodded once, his chin held high. “Go ahead. Call him. And tell him you’re blocking the judge from his own courtroom.”
The Truth Arrives Down The Corridor
Before the staffer could pull his phone out, an older gentleman wearing a tailored three-piece gray suit rounded the corridor corner.
The young staffer pivoted quickly, pointing back toward the jumpsuit. “Tell this maintenance guy he can’t walk in here.”
The newcomer stopped, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Maintenance guy? He is Judge Marcus Reed.”
The man in work clothes offered a slight, knowing nod. “I just disguise as a janitor.”
The color drained instantly from the young staffer’s face. His eyelids stretched wide, his mouth hung slightly open, and his hands dropped limp to his sides.
Judge Reed watched him for two seconds before speaking. “Do you still want security?”
The staffer began stammering, palms turning upward in an attempt to explain away his stance. “I thought you worked maintenance. I was trying to control access.”
A Stern Rule For The Future
Judge Reed closed the small distance between them, holding the leather portfolio straight out toward the younger man’s chest.
“I gave you identification,” Judge Reed stated, his tone firm and unmistakable. “You refused to look at it.”
The young man swallowed hard, unable to look the judge in the eyes, keeping his gaze locked on the floor tiles.
“Report this to your supervisor,” Judge Reed commanded. “Next person who walks through here gets questions, not assumptions.”
Judge Reed tapped the edge of the folder against the young man’s arm, turned his shoulders, and walked forward through the wide double doors into the courtroom.
Send this to someone who knows the importance of never judging a person by their cover.