PART 1
“In this store we don’t serve people who look like they’ve just come from the subway,” Fernanda said, without lowering her voice.
The man who had just entered stood motionless in front of the glass door of a luxury watch shop on Presidente Masaryk, in Polanco. He was wearing a faded gray t-shirt, worn jeans, and sneakers so old that anyone would have thought he'd come to the wrong place.
But he had not been wrong.
That man was Mateo Herrera, owner and CEO of Grupo Herrera, one of Mexico's most exclusive watch brands. Only no one at that branch knew it. Tired of meetings, fake dinners, and bought smiles, he had decided to enter one of his own stores dressed as someone invisible.
I wanted to know how they treated those who didn't appear to have money.
Fernanda, the most conceited saleswoman in the place, looked him up and down as if he had stained the marble floor.
—If you're just coming to ask about prices, I'd better tell you right now: they're expensive.
From the other counter, Lucía looked up. She was twenty-seven years old, her hair simply pulled back, and she possessed a calmness that seemed unmanageable. She put down the cloth she was using to clean a vintage watch and approached.
—Good afternoon, sir. Welcome. Would you like me to show you a model?
Mateo pointed to a watch with a rose gold case and a black leather strap.
—That one looks interesting.
Fernanda let out a giggle.
—That one costs more than his car, if he even has one.
Lucía ignored her. She put on white gloves, opened the display case, and began explaining the mechanism, the design history, the craftsmanship done in Querétaro, and the limited number of pieces available. For twenty minutes, she treated him as if he were the most important customer of the day.
Mateo watched her in silence. There was no pity in his gaze. Nor feigned interest. Only respect.
"I'll take it," he finally said.
Fernanda approached immediately, her eyes wide open.
-Sorry?
Mateo put his hand in his back pocket. Then in his front pocket. Then on his chest. He frowned.
—It can't be… I think I lost my wallet.
The silence fell like a stone.
Fernanda burst out laughing.
—I knew it! See, Lucia? All because of playing at being Mother Teresa. This man only came to waste our time.
Lucia took a deep breath.
—Fernanda, stop. He's a customer.
"Customer?" Fernanda spat. "He's a starving wretch. And you, of course, defend him because you recognize each other. You come from the bottom too, don't you? From those neighborhoods where people think that just being nice is enough to get them a chance."
See the rest on the next page.
