Rick prided himself on keeping his showroom spotless. So when a man in muddy overalls walked in, Rick didn’t just ask him to leave; he humiliated him.
“You’re scaring the real customers,” Rick sneered, blocking the old man’s path. “Go buy a tractor somewhere else.”
The farmer, Mr. Jenkins, looked around the empty store. “I don’t see any customers, son. Just you and a lot of unsold inventory.”
Rick snapped. “Out! Now!”
That’s when Jenkins upended his dirty sack on the front desk. Bundles of cash tumbled out—enough to buy the showroom’s centerpiece twice over. “I need a fleet of cars for my grandkids,” Jenkins said, dusting off his hands. “I just sold 500 acres of prime development land this morning.”
Rick’s jaw dropped. He immediately changed his tune, putting on his best fake smile. “Sir, please, let me get you a coffee. We can work out a deal.”
“Oh, I’m buying the cars,” Jenkins said, grabbing his cash back. “But not from you.”
He turned to the trembling intern standing in the corner. “Hey kid, you want a commission on five Ferraris?”
Rick watched in horror as the intern made a year’s salary in ten minutes, while he was left with nothing but a smudge on the floor.
