Marbled floors with intricate patterns beckoned me. Crystal chandeliers shone brightly as they floated high above. Oak furniture lined the lobby and at the end was an enormous stone fireplace. Opulence didn't begin to describe that which I surveyed.
I normally would never be able to stay at such a place. But I was here because I was the winner of a contest I never remembered entering. My suspicion was high, and I hardly expected to be let in, believing the contest to have been a fraud. But it wasn't too far from home, and I wasn't going to pass up the hope of staying in such an establishment.
I approached the concierge. "Smith," I said putting down my bag. "Room for one."
The attendant smiled and without lifting a finger towards his keyboard welcomed me heartily. "Mr. Smith, of course, we have been expecting you. Your stay is for one night."
"That's what I heard," I responded coyly. "Everything is set?"
"Yes sir, already reserved and paid for. You are a lucky one. People usually have to wait six months for their stay."
The concierge directed me to my accommodations, and I reflected on his observation. I was notified the week before, so indeed I came on short notice. But with my doubts dispelled, I thanked him and turned towards the elevator. I bent down to pick up my bag and pivoted, just in time to run head first into a burly elderly man. I looked up to see a shocked face staring back at me, the man clad in a pinstripe suit, made of a material with which I was unfamiliar. The man had an unmistakable aura of invincibility.
"I am so sorry," I stammered.
The elderly man just smiled at me. "It is perfectly ok, son. It happens more often than you think."
"Mr. Franks, sir!" the concierge shouted, bursting from behind his desk. "Are you ok?"
"I'm fine," the Mr. Franks chuckled. As I stared at the man and heard his name, my eyes widened.
"You're the owner," I said shakily. Mr. Franks nodded his head and offered me his hand. I shook it vigorously. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
The truth was that meeting Mr. Franks was as unexpected as winning the contest, for Mr. Franks was famous for rarely being seen. He was well known as a philanthropist and deeply involved in the well being of the community. But to meet him face to face was a very rare treat.
The concierge attended to Mr. Franks and the two exchanged several sentences. I could feel the concierge's eyes ushering me away, suggesting that I should not be gawking. I grabbed my bag and slowly made my way to the elevator, staring back at the two the entire way.
I replayed the incident in my mind all the way to my room. When I finally arrived, I slipped my key in the door and pushed it open, nearly falling into the room. My eyes were filled with the majesty of what surrounded me. Words could not describe the magnificence of my accommodations for the evening, and the sheer size alone was larger the most apartments. I gloried that I was privileged to such an experience as I walked towards the window that consumed most of the wall space.
The view that greeted me was unparalleled. I could see far and wide the city below as people and vehicles traversed the painted streets. The buildings burst skyward before me, and the clouds above didn't seem nearly as far as they had when I entered. I felt like I could reach out and grab one.
I was in awe as I took my bag to the bedroom and dumped out its contents. I began to shuffle through my things, placing close by that which I needed most. When I was finished I felt discouraged, for I realized I had forgotten some of my basic toiletries. I looked around for the phone and called the front desk.
A man answered and I told him my request. "Yes sir," he replied. "I will send those up right away." Satisfied, I put down the phone and went to sit on the bed. But before I hit the mattress I heard a knock at my door. I headed over, unsure of who could be knocking.
I looked through the peephole and saw a hand holding up a toothbrush. How they had gotten there so fast confused me, but I flung open the door. Before me stood Mr. Franks, with his suit jacket off, offering me what I had request.
"Mr. Franks," I let out. "I...I didn't expect you."
He smiled at me. "This is what you requested?"
"Yes sir, thank you!" I took the toiletries as he walked away, and I closed the door shocked that I was being waited on by the building's owner. I put down the toiletries and headed to the kitchen.
I was hungry, and thought the kitchen might have been stocked. But it was not, so once again I headed to the phone to order room service. I knew exactly what I desired, and called it in. The voice on the other end assured me it was on its way, and I anticipated a wait for my meal.
But again I heard an immediate knock at the door, and rushed over to see if once again my order had come unbelievably fast. I threw open the door, finding once again Mr. Franks behind a cart laden with dishes and plates filled with my order. This time his fine shirt and suit pants had been exchanged for slacks and a colorful top.
I was awed with silence as Mr. Franks began to push the cart into my room. I jumped aside as he placed the cart near the table, and turned to leave. "Do I owe you anything?" I inquired.
"It's taken care of." Mr. Franks replied, his normal smile fading as he closed the door behind him.
I didn't know what to think, so I went on with my day. I finished my meal, took a shower and got comfortable for the evening. It was my desire to stay and enjoy all the hotel had to offer.
I sat on the couch and attempted to turn the television on. I tried and tried, but to my dismay it was not working. I checked the outlet, knew how to operate the remote, but it appeared to be a defective piece of equipment. I wanted to watch a movie, but was hesitant to call for more help, considering what had already happened. But I gave in to my desire, and called maintenance. I explained the problem and hung up the phone, but instead of settling in I headed for the door. I knew what to expect.
Without fail, there was an immediate knock at my door. Once again it was Mr. Franks, dressed in a once piece jump suit, with a toolbox in hand. I opened the door to find his smile gone, replaced with a look of concern. He said nothing to me, entered the room and proceeded towards the television.
I wanted to say something to this elderly gentleman, but either from fear or confusion I was held back. Several minutes passed and I paced the room, a mixture of anxiety and desire for him to be done settling in my stomach. Finally I heard the click of the television and voices from the box. I readied myself to thank Mr. Franks, but he simply left without a glance, shaking his head as he exited.
Unsure of what to make of his apparent disagreeable nature, I settled myself into the couch. I began to flip through the channels to see what I might enjoy. But as I sat there, the thought of Mr. Franks surly demeanor refused to leave my mind. I began to dwell on his countenance, becoming more and more angry at what I saw as a personal slight. Sure, he was the owner of this gorgeous hotel. He had certainly helped me with several problems already this day. But if he was going to offer to fix the issues with my stay, then there was no reason that he should treat me with any manner of disrespect.
I slammed the remote on the couch and rose to my feet. I stormed out of my room, seething at the thought of what Mr. Franks' silence meant. I made my way back to the concierge and demanded to see the manager. A young man approached me and I was ready to unload.
"Is everything alright, sir?" The young man asked.
"It most certainly is not!" I exclaimed. "I want to know how it is that this place gets away with treating it's guests in such a demeaning manner!" The man stood silently before me. "Don't you even want to know what disgrace I am referring to?"
The young man looked me square in the eyes. "Sir, I assure you, I know why you are here. But let me ask you a question first. Were all of your needs met in a timely and satisfactory manner?"
I tried to consider how I could answer in the negative, but there was no way. "Well, yes."
"And who was it that solved your issues?"
"Mr. Franks, the owner," I replied.
"Of course," the young man said knowingly. "Do you believe in God?"
I was aghast at the question. "I'm not sure how that's any of your business, nor how it is relevant to this situation!"
"That's ok," he replied calmly. "I already know the answer. For you see, Mr. Franks as you know is the owner of this establishment. But he is much more than that."
"More?"
"Yes," he continued. "Not only is he the owner, but he actually built this place with his own two hands."
"Impossible!" I replied.
"Quite possible, actually." The young man paused. "Mr. Franks owned this land far before you or I was around. He built this building, brick by brick. He laid the tile, affixed the chandeliers and painted the walls. He hung the art and even plumbed each room. Mr. Franks did all of that, and yet even when you needed something, he was there. He was ready and answered, and when you continued to need things, no matter how trivial, no matter how given only to your desires, he was there. And as it continued, you began to see him for nothing more than an errand boy. You treated the owner and builder of this most magnificent tower as your personal bellhop."
"Well," I stammered, "he kept coming. Wheat else was I to do?"
"You didn't give him the respect he deserved for who he was. I suspect that's how you treat God."
"How dare you!" I shouted. "You don't know me at all!"
"Don't I?" the young man replied. "Consider for yourself how you see God."
The young man just stared at me, and for all the fight I wanted to give I was overwhelmed with the knowledge that he was right. I treated God as I had Mr. Franks, as my personal bellhop to answer my needs at any given moment, and when He didn't I became enraged. If I could treat my God this way, it was no wonder I could treat Mr. Franks, or anybody, with the same disrespect.
"I need to speak to Mr. Franks." I said sheepishly. "I have been a fool. I need to apologize."
The young man shook his head. "No, that isn't necessary. He already knows. Besides," he said, looking down, "it appears that your stay is over."
"Over?" I asked. But I'm supposed to stay the night."
"I think you've seen enough," the young man said as he smiled at me. "Your bag is already packed and waiting outside for you. We didn't forget a thing."
I was in awe. My heart was heavy with my treacherous nature, but filled with hope that I could change my actions. "What kind of place is this?"
The young man walked from behind the counter, took me gently by the arm, and led me to the door. When we got there he stopped, opened the door, and smiled.
"A place where truth happens."
No comments:
Post a Comment