The older man stopped beside a motorcycle near the front window of the showroom. He wore work boots, faded jeans and a brown jacket marked by years of use. He leaned closer to study the seat and the polished engine, then stepped back to see the whole bike.
He had ridden motorcycles for decades, but he asked questions before choosing one. The shape of the seat mattered to him more than the shine of the paint. He wanted to know how the bike would feel after a long journey.
A salesman in a dark suit watched him from behind the counter.
“You’re actually interested in this bike?” he asked with a laugh.
“Yes,” the man said. “I’d like to know the price.”
The salesman laughed again. “The price? You should be looking at used scooters. This motorcycle costs more than most people make in a year. Stop wasting my time.”
The older man’s expression tightened. “I didn’t ask you to judge me. I asked you for the price.”
Two customers browsing helmets looked over. The salesman noticed them but continued. “Then leave before you embarrass yourself.”
The man rested a hand on the handlebar. He had spent the morning visiting the dealership’s service workshop, where mechanics had been preparing bikes for customers. He was still wearing the jacket he used whenever he checked on their work.
“Could you tell me what comes with it?” he asked.
“I already told you enough.” The salesman turned away as though the conversation was finished.
A manager who had heard the exchange from the office came across the showroom. “Stop. Right now.”
The salesman gestured toward the customer. “What? He can’t afford that—”
“That man isn’t here to ask if he can afford the motorcycle,” the manager said. “He owns this dealership.”
The salesman looked from the manager to the older man. The smile disappeared from his face. “Sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“That’s what concerns me,” the owner replied. “You shouldn’t need to know someone’s bank account to treat them with respect. I asked a simple question, and you answered by telling me where you thought I belonged.”
The manager glanced at the price card displayed beside the bike. It had been there the entire time. She asked the salesman why he had refused to read it aloud. He could not give her an answer.
“Respect the customer before you know their name,” the owner said. “That applies to everyone who walks through these doors.”
The salesman apologized again. The manager asked him to step into her office so they could discuss how he had treated the visitor. Another employee came over and answered the owner’s questions about the motorcycle’s features.
Later, the bike was wheeled outside for a short ride. The owner fastened his helmet and looked through the showroom window. The salesman was still inside with the manager, listening.
He started the engine and rode away, hoping the next person who asked for a price would receive an answer first.