Two teenage boys walked into a luxury car dealership wearing combat shorts and plain white t-shirts. They approached a high-end car, asking a few questions. The salesman looked them up and down with disdain.
I think you’re in the wrong place, he sneered. These cars start at $900,000. Laughter echoed from staff and customers. Humiliated, the boys quietly left. The next morning, two Rolls-Royce boattails pulled up outside the dealership. As the back door opened, the same boys stepped out, followed by their father in a tailored suit.
The salesman watched, stunned. He never saw it coming. It was a normal day for the showroom, until two teenage boys on bicycles appeared at the entrance.
Their arrival was almost silent, the only sound being the light squeak of bike tires as they coasted into view. They were dressed in combat shorts, plain white t-shirts, and sneakers scuffed from real use. No designer labels.
No Rolex watches. Just youthful curiosity and the kind of wide-eyed wonder that could only come from dreams that hadn’t yet been stomped out by the world. They parked their bikes beside the front steps and walked in, the glass doors parting with a soft whoosh.
Their faces lit up instantly, soaking in every shimmer of automotive perfection before them, sleek curves, oversized wheels, gleaming emblems. They didn’t run. They didn’t act out.
They didn’t even touch anything. They simply stood there, gazing. One of them finally turned to his brother and whispered, That’s it.
That’s the one. The car he pointed at was a deep midnight blue hypercar that looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine. It was beauty sculpted into metal and speed, one of only a few in the country.
The price tag? Over nine hundred thousand dollars. As they moved closer to admire it, a voice cut through the air, sharp, clipped, and condescending. Can I help you? The boys turned.
A salesman in a tailored navy suit approached, adjusting his cufflinks. His shoes were polished to a mirror shine, his hair gelled back just enough to look effortless. He was everything they weren’t, refined, well-dressed, smug.
He looked them over slowly, eyes dropping to their clothes and sneakers, then rising back up to their faces. I’m sorry, he said, his lips curling into a smirk, but I think you’re in the wrong place. One of the boys blinked.
We were just wondering if… These vehicles start at nine hundred thousand dollars, the salesman interrupted, enunciating each word as if he were speaking to someone who didn’t understand English. Perhaps you’d be more comfortable. Elsewhere, behind him, a few other staff members chuckled under their breath.
A couple seated at a nearby desk, clearly in the middle of a sale, looked over and gave a small, patronizing shake of their heads. The boys’ smiles vanished. The younger one looked down at the floor.