The Millionaire Disguised Himself as a Poor Customer in His Own Jewelry Store… and an Employee Taught Him the Hardest Lesson of His Life
PART 1
“Seriously, we don’t serve people here who look like they’re coming out of the Metro with 20 pesos in their pocket,” Fernanda said, without bothering to lower her voice.
The man stood in front of the glass door of a luxury watch shop on Presidente Masaryk, in Polanco.
He was wearing an old gray t-shirt, worn jeans, and sneakers so worn they looked like they had walked half of Mexico City.
Some customers glanced at him askance.
Others pretended not to see it.
But he hadn’t gone to the wrong place.
That man was Santiago Aranda, owner and CEO of Aranda Tiempo Fino, one of the most exclusive Mexican watch brands in the country.
Except nobody at that branch knew.
Tired of fake meetings, employees who only smiled in front of the rich, and reports doctored by sycophantic managers, Santiago had decided to enter his own store dressed as an ordinary person.
I wanted to see how they treated those who didn’t appear to have money.
Fernanda, the star saleswoman of the branch, looked him up and down as if he had dirtied the Italian marble floor.
« If you’re coming to ask about prices, I’d rather spare you the trouble, » he said with a cruel smile. « Everything here costs more than your rent. »
From the other counter, Valeria looked up.
She was 28 years old, her hair was pulled back with a simple clip, and her uniform was perfectly ironed. She wore no expensive jewelry or heavy makeup.
He simply possessed a rare serenity in a place where everyone seemed to be competing to appear superior.
« Good afternoon, sir, » she said, approaching. « Welcome. Is there a model you’d like to meet? »
Santiago pointed to a watch with a rose gold case, black strap, and visible mechanism.
—That one looks interesting.
Fernanda let out a giggle.
—That’s worth more than his car, if he even has a car.
Valeria did not respond.
He put on white gloves, carefully opened the display case, and placed the clock on a velvet base.
For several minutes he explained the origin of the design, the artisanal work done in Querétaro, the limited edition of 82 pieces, and the hand-assembled machinery.
He didn’t treat him like a poor person.
He didn’t treat him like a millionaire.
He treated him like a person.
Santiago watched her in silence.
I had spent years listening to speeches about “customer service”, but I had never seen so much dignity in something as simple as speaking respectfully.
« I’ll take it, » he finally said.
Fernanda approached immediately, her eyes wide open.
-Sorry?
Santiago put his hand in his back pocket. Then in his front pocket. Then he touched his chest and frowned.
—It can’t be… I think I lost my wallet.
The silence fell heavily.
Fernanda burst out laughing.
—I knew it. Did you see, Valeria? All because of playing the good Samaritan. This man just came to waste our time.
Valeria took a deep breath.
—Fernanda, stop. He’s a customer.
« Customer? » Fernanda spat. « He’s a starving wretch. And you’re defending him because he reminds you of your family, right? From those neighborhoods where they think that just because they’re poor they deserve to have the door opened for them. »
Valeria’s face tensed.
But he didn’t lower his gaze.
“Yes, I come from humble beginnings,” she said firmly. “My mother sold quesadillas outside the Hidalgo Metro station, and my father disappeared when he should have stayed. But I’m not ashamed of that. I would be ashamed to wear this uniform to humiliate someone who did nothing to me.”
Several customers turned around.
The manager, from the back, pretended to check a tablet.
Santiago felt a blow to his chest.
Nobody had ever defended him, thinking that he had nothing.
Valeria turned towards him.
—Don’t worry about the watch. First, we need to find his wallet. Did he have his ID, cards, anything important in it?
—Yes —Santiago murmured.
—Then let’s look. Maybe it fell on the sidewalk or when he got out of the car.
Without expecting a reward, Valeria asked the manager for permission, took her black jacket, and went out into the street.
They walked along Masaryk under a gray sky that threatened rain.
They searched next to the flowerbeds, under a bench, and even near a drain.
Valeria bent down, not caring about getting her pants dirty.
She turned on her cell phone’s flashlight and looked among the damp leaves.
« You don’t have to do this, » said Santiago, feeling an increasingly unbearable guilt.
—Absolutely. Losing your wallet in Mexico City is a nightmare. Money comes and goes, but getting another voter ID, canceling cards, and waiting in lines… I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Santiago looked at her.
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