The man smiled gratefully.
"Thank you, young lady."
They walked toward the rear of the showroom.
As they passed the reception counter, Victor emerged from his office.
"Excuse me," he said sharply.
Amara stopped.
Victor looked at the older customer.
"Sir, the elevator is for registered clients and staff."
The man frowned.
"I was told the men's department is upstairs."
"It is."
"Then how am I supposed to get there?"
Victor glanced at Amara.
"An associate will assist you when one becomes available."
The older man looked embarrassed.
"I can wait."
Victor nodded toward the entrance.
"Perhaps you should wait outside until someone is free."
Amara felt her jaw tighten.
"He's already inside."
Victor turned toward her.
"Excuse me?"
"Your customer is inside. He's asking for assistance. Why are you telling him to wait outside?"
Victor's eyes narrowed.
"This is an internal matter."
"He's standing right here."
"Madam, I would appreciate it if you didn't interfere with my staff."
Amara looked at the older man.
"Would you still like to see the shoes?"
He nodded.
Victor stepped between them.
"Ma'am, I believe we've already discussed this. You're not here for private shopping, and I have responsibilities to the clients who are."
The older man's expression changed.
"I beg your pardon. I'm a customer too."
Victor's smile became artificial.
"Of course, sir."
But he did not move.
For several seconds, the three stood in silence.
Then the older man lowered his head.
"Never mind. I'll come another day."
He turned toward the entrance.
Amara watched him leave.
Something painful moved through her chest.
She remembered her grandmother.
Evelyn had once spent an entire afternoon walking through a department store searching for a pair of shoes. Three salespeople had ignored her before one finally agreed to help.
When Amara complained afterward, her grandmother had simply said, "A person who cannot see the value in someone standing before them should never be trusted with something valuable."
Amara looked at Victor.
"Do you know how much that customer might have spent today?"
Victor shrugged.
"That's irrelevant."
"Is it?"
"His appearance suggests he isn't looking for our premium collection."
Amara stared at him.
"Perhaps he came here because he wanted to buy something special."
Victor leaned closer.
"Listen carefully. This store is not a community center. We have a brand image to maintain."
Amara felt the words land like a slap.
"A brand image?"
"Yes."
"And customers are part of that image, aren't they?"
Victor's smile disappeared.
"Not every person who walks through the door is our target demographic."
Amara nodded.
"Thank you for explaining."
Victor returned to his office.
Amara wrote down every word she could remember.
She now understood that the problem was not merely poor customer service.
Victor believed he had the authority to decide who deserved access to the store.
And the employees were learning to behave accordingly.
At 9:05 a.m., the showroom became busier.
Two women entered carrying shopping bags from another luxury retailer. They were greeted immediately.
A middle-aged man wearing a construction jacket entered behind them.
He approached the footwear section.
Nobody greeted him.
He examined a pair of handmade boots and checked the price tag.
An employee approached.
"Sir, those are from our limited collection."
"I can see that."
"They're quite expensive."
The man looked at the employee.
"I didn't ask how much they cost. I asked whether they come in a size eleven."
The employee hesitated.
"Let me check."
Amara watched him disappear into the stockroom.
The man turned toward her.
"Is it always like this?"
Amara gave a sympathetic smile.
"I'm beginning to wonder."
He chuckled.
"My daughter bought a pair here last Christmas. Beautiful shoes. She said the people were wonderful. I thought I'd get her another pair for her birthday."
"That's thoughtful."
"Well, I hope I can actually buy them."
Amara nodded.
A few minutes later, the employee returned.
"Unfortunately, we don't have that size."
"Can you order it?"
"Possibly."
"How long would that take?"
"Someone from customer service would need to contact you."
The man frowned.
"Can't you take my number?"
The employee looked toward Victor's office.
"I'll have to ask the manager."
Amara's patience was wearing thin.
She approached the counter.
"Surely taking a customer's number isn't difficult."
The employee looked uncomfortable.
"Store policy."
"Which policy?"
He did not answer.
Victor appeared almost immediately.
"Is there a problem?"
Amara looked at him.
"Your customer wants to order a pair of boots in his size."
"We don't have them."
"Then why not offer to order them?"
Victor turned toward the man.
"Sir, we cannot guarantee delivery."
"I didn't ask for a guarantee. I asked whether you could try."
Victor gave a dismissive nod.
"We'll see what we can do."
The man looked at Amara.
"Thank you."
He left without placing an order.
Victor watched him go.
Then he turned to Amara.
"You seem unusually interested in how we run this business."
"I like to understand how companies treat their customers."
"Then perhaps you should understand that we're not obligated to accommodate every request."
Amara's voice remained quiet.