Concierge Watson sneers at a smelly traveler and refuses him a room at the luxury Grand Lumière Hotel. When the traveler returns looking dapper, Watson realizes his mistake could cost him more than just his job.
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Rain pelted the windows of the Grand Lumière Hotel, but that didn’t stop the lobby’s chandeliers from gleaming. The opulent atmosphere could never be overshadowed by the weather.
The hotel’s concierge, Mr. Watson, stood ramrod straight behind the polished marble reception desk.
His keen eyes scanned the lobby, ensuring every detail met the exacting standards of the five-star establishment. Nothing was out of place… until…
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The doors swung open, letting in a gust of wind and a few pelts of rain into the hardwood floors. But it was the bedraggled figure that made Mr. Watson wrinkle his nose.
A man stumbled toward the desk, leaving muddy footprints in his wake.
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His clothes were soaked through and hung limply from his frame. His scraggly beard as well as the stench of wet dog and stale cigarettes told the concierge that he hadn’t washed in days.
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Mr. Watson’s nose wrinkled further. “May I help you?” he asked in a clipped and cold tone.
The man looked up. “Please,” he croaked weakly, “I need a room for the night. My car broke down a few miles back, and I’ve been walking in this downpour for hours.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir,” Mr. Watson shook his head. “We have no vacancies at the moment.”
“But surely there must be something. I can pay whatever the rate is. I just need a place to sleep and dry off.”
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“As I said,” Mr. Watson repeated, his lip curling, “we have no rooms available for someone in your… condition. Perhaps you might try the motel down by the highway. I’m sure their standards would be more… accommodating.”
The man’s face fell and his shoulders slumped. But for a small second, anger flashed in his eyes. “I see,” he said quietly. “Thank you for your time.”
He turned and trudged back toward the doors.
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Mr. Watson watched him go, then called for a bellhop. “Call maintenance to clean this up,” he ordered, gesturing to the muddy footprints. “We can’t have the lobby looking like a pigsty.”
As the young bellhop hurried to comply, Mr. Watson smiled, satisfied about keeping that dirty man away from his hotel.
But his actions would soon come back to haunt him.
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***
An hour later, the lobby doors swung open once more. Mr. Watson looked up, ready to greet another guest with his practiced smile.
To his surprise, a well-dressed man strode confidently toward the desk. His suit was impeccably tailored, his shoes shone with a mirror-like gleam, and his salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed.
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It took Mr. Watson a moment to recognize the face beneath the expertly trimmed beard. His eyes widened in shock as he realized it was the same man he had turned away earlier.
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The man approached the desk with a slight smile playing on his lips. “Good evening,” he said smoothly. “I’d like a room for the night, please.”
Mr. Watson swallowed hard. “Of course, sir,” he managed to say. “May I ask what happened to… your previous attire?”
“Ah, yes,” the man chuckled. “I found a truck stop down the road with showers and a small clothing shop. Amazing what a little soap and a clean suit can do, isn’t it?”
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Mr. Watson nodded stiffly, looking away, and tapped at his computer in search of an available room. “We have a standard room on the third floor,” he said.
“That will do nicely,” the man replied.
As Mr. Watson processed the reservation, he couldn’t help but add, “I must say, sir, you clean up rather well. It’s like night and day.”
“Yes, well, appearances can be deceiving, can’t they?”
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Mr. Watson handed over the key card and nodded, pursing his lips. “Indeed they can. Enjoy your stay, Mr…?”
“Bloomington,” the man supplied. “Thank you, I’m sure I will.”
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Mr. Bloomington walked away, and Mr. Watson watched. There was a tightening in his chest that he couldn’t explain… as if he had made a mistake.
But he wouldn’t apologize. His job was to maintain the cleanliness, prestige, and reputation of the hotel, so all their clients had to, at least, look the part.
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Still, throughout Mr. Bloomington’s stay, Mr. Watson went out of his way to avoid the man. When forced to interact, he was curt and dismissive.
On the third day of Mr. Bloomington’s stay, Mr. Watson was overseeing the breakfast service in the hotel’s elegant dining room.
He moved from table to table to ensure each guest was satisfied with their meal and experience. As he approached Mr. Bloomington’s table, he overheard a conversation that made his blood run cold.
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“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Bloomington was saying into his phone. “I’ve been here for three days now, observing operations incognito. I think I’ve seen enough to make some necessary changes.”
Mr. Watson froze. Incognito? Changes? Who exactly was this Mr. Bloomington?
As if sensing his presence, Mr. Bloomington looked up and met Mr. Watson’s shocked gaze. He smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes.
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“Ah, Mr. Watson,” he said smoothly. “Just the man I wanted to see. Would you join me for a moment?”
His heart began racing at the request. It was said with such authority that the tightening in his chest happened, and a hint of intuition hit his thoughts.
Was Mr. Bloomington more important than the concierge imagined?
Numbly, Mr. Watson sank into the chair across from Mr. Bloomington. The man leaned forward and started speaking in a low but firm voice.
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“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he said. “My first name is Charles, but you can keep calling me Mr. Bloomington. I recently acquired this hotel chain, and I’ve been visiting each property to assess their operations firsthand.”
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The color drained from Mr. Watson’s face as the full impact of his actions over the past few days hit him. “You’re… you’re the new owner?” he stammered.
Mr. Bloomington nodded gravely. “That’s correct, and the CEO. And I must say, Mr. Watson, I’ve been less than impressed with what I’ve observed here, particularly concerning your treatment of guests you deem… unworthy.”
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Mr. Watson opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He sat there, fish-mouthed and pale, as Mr. Bloomington continued.
“A hotel’s primary function is to provide hospitality to all its guests, regardless of their appearance or circumstances. Your behavior has been not only unprofessional but cruel. Is this really the image we want to project to our clientele?”
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“No, sir,” Mr. Watson whispered, chastened. “It’s not.”
The new CEO stood and nodded to the side. “Follow me.”
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***
Minutes later, Mr. Watson stood in Mr. Bloomington’s new temporary office, which was formerly the hotel manager’s space.
The CEO sat behind the desk, and his fingers drummed against the polished, sleek hardwood surface.
“Mr. Watson,” he began, “I hope you understand the gravity of your actions. This hotel has always prided itself on providing exceptional service to all our guests. Your behavior over the past few days has fallen far short of that standard.”
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Mr. Watson nodded, but couldn’t speak. He was ready for the inevitable: losing his job, which he’d held for over 15 years.
“I’m glad you recognize that. Now, the question is, what are we going to do about it?”
“Sir?” Mr. Watson looked up, surprised.
“I believe in second chances, Mr. Watson. More importantly, I believe this experience can be a valuable lesson not just for you, but for our entire staff. Are you willing to learn from this and help implement changes to ensure it never happens again?”
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“Yes, sir,” Mr. Watson said, breathless as relief flooded through him. “Absolutely. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”
“Good.,” the new CEO nodded. “Then here’s what we’re going to do…”
Over the next few weeks, the Grand Lumière Hotel transformed. New policies were put in place that required equal treatment for all guests, regardless of appearance.
If they could pay, they could have a room.
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Hoping to prove his worth, Mr. Watson developed a training program to help staff recognize and overcome their biases.
Furthermore, to work on himself, the concierge began volunteering at a local homeless shelter.
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Slowly but surely, the atmosphere in the hotel began to change. Guests from all walks of life were welcomed with genuine warmth and respect.
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The staff worked together more cohesively since their workplace no longer seemed to value certain people over others.
But Mr. Watson’s new outlook on his job was yet to be tested.
***
One rainy evening, much like the night that had started it all, the concierge stood at his familiar post behind the reception desk.
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The doors swung open, and a bedraggled traveler entered, seeking shelter from the storm.
For a second, Mr. Watson’s old instincts surfaced, but he schooled himself and adopted a warm smile. “Welcome to the Grand Lumière,” he said kindly. “How may we assist you this evening?”
As he helped the grateful guest check in, Mr. Watson caught Mr. Bloomington’s eye across the lobby.
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The CEO nodded approvingly.
Mr. Watson let out a small sigh and continued working. Times had changed at the Grand Lumière Hotel, and he was glad not to have wasted his second chance.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Kids Said They Wished I Never Existed, and the Next Day Their Wish Came True — Story of the Day
My kids told me they wished I didn’t exist, and those words cut deeper than anything I’d ever heard. They were angry, careless—but I decided to take their wish seriously. I vanished from their lives, leaving no trace. It was time they learned what life would be like without Mom.
I’d heard it countless times—people saying housewives had it easy. They stayed home, relaxed, and lived off their husbands’ hard work. What a joke!
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Let me tell you, my being a stay-at-home mom wasn’t just a job; it was an endless marathon with no breaks. My days were a blur of cleaning, cooking, managing tantrums, and juggling a thousand other things.
Tom, my sweet but stubborn five-year-old, was at that age where every little thing was a battle.
Eliza, on the other hand, was teetering on the edge of her pre-teen years—full of sass and mood swings.
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And my husband, Justin? He thought his paycheck excused him from everything else. It was exhausting.
That evening, as usual, we sat down for dinner together. Sharing our day had become a routine, though it often came with surprises.
I looked at Tom, who was already playing with his peas. “Tom, how was preschool today?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful.
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He shrugged. “It was okay, but Miss Jackson might call you tomorrow.”
That caught my attention. “Why would she call me?” I asked, putting down my fork.
“I just wanted to pet a dog outside, but Miss Jackson said you shouldn’t touch stray dogs because they can have rab—rabai—” Tom paused, frowning.
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“Rabies,” Eliza said with an exaggerated eye roll.
Tom nodded. “Yeah, rabies.”
I leaned forward. “And why does that mean she might call me?”
Tom hesitated, then blurted, “Well, I didn’t like what she said, so I bit her.”
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I stared at him, shocked. “You bit your teacher?” My voice rose without meaning to.
Tom nodded, completely unbothered. “She said rabies spreads by bites. I wanted to show her.”
“Mom, you gave birth to a lunatic,” Eliza muttered, smirking.
“Don’t talk about your brother like that,” I said firmly. Then I turned to Justin, who was busy eating. “Justin, do you have anything to say about this?”
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He glanced up briefly. “You’re handling it great, honey,” he said, patting my hand.
I sighed, turning back to Tom. “Tom, we’ve talked about this. You can’t bite people. It hurts, and it’s wrong. Next time, use words to express how you feel.”
Finally, I faced Eliza. “How was your day?”
“Fine,” she said, barely looking up.
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“That’s all?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m sleeping over at Nancy’s tomorrow, remember?” she added casually.
“Yes, I remember,” I said, feeling my energy drain.
The next day started badly and only got worse. When I went into Tom’s room to check if he had cleaned up like I’d asked, it looked like a tornado had hit it.
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Toys, clothes, and books were everywhere. I felt my patience slipping, but there wasn’t time to deal with it.
I had to apologize to Miss Jackson for Tom biting her, which was embarrassing enough.
Then, as I finally sat down to breathe, the phone rang. Eliza’s school informed me she had skipped classes. My anger boiled over. By the time they got home, I was ready for a serious talk.
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“Wait, both of you, stop right there,” I said as Tom and Eliza headed to their rooms. My voice made them freeze.
“What is it now?” Eliza asked, sounding irritated.
“Let’s start with Tom,” I said, turning to him. “I saw your room. It’s a disaster. We agreed that if you didn’t keep it clean, I’d take away your games. So, your console is mine until you show me you can keep your room tidy.”
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Tom’s eyes went wide. “What? No! That’s not fair!” he yelled, crossing his arms.
Eliza smirked. “Nice job, Tom,” she said with a mocking tone.
“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, young lady,” I snapped. “I got a call from your school today. They told me you skipped class.”
“It was one time! Just one!” Eliza shouted, her face red with anger.
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“You’re grounded for a week,” I said firmly. “No sleepover at Nancy’s.”
“You can’t do this! ‘’ve been planning that forever!” Eliza screamed, clenching her fists.
“Then you shouldn’t have skipped class,” I replied calmly.
“I hate you! I wish you didn’t exist!” she yelled before stomping off to her room and slamming the door.
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“Yeah! Me too!” Tom shouted, running to his own room.
I stood there, tears welling up. My chest felt heavy, but I swallowed the lump in my throat.
When Justin got home, I recounted everything. He listened quietly, barely responding.
“Well?” I asked, desperate for some support.
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“Maybe you were too hard on them,” he said, shrugging. “They’re just kids.”
“Did you hear me? Did you hear what Eliza said to me?” I asked, my voice shaking with anger.
“She didn’t mean it,” he said, brushing it off.
“I’ve had enough,” I said, my voice cold. “I’ll show them what it’s like when I’m not here.”
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“What are you talking about?” Justin asked, confused.
“You’ll see,” I said and walked away.
That night, as the house lay silent, I began my plan. Justin, always a heavy sleeper, didn’t stir once.
I moved quietly, gathering every single thing that was mine—clothes from the closet, photos from the walls, notebooks from the desk.
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Even my favorite mug, the one I used every morning, went into a box. I left no sign that I had ever been there.
With everything packed, I carried it all up to the attic. The attic was dusty and cramped, but I set up a mattress in the corner, arranging a small lamp and a blanket. Justin wouldn’t think to look here; he barely remembered the attic existed.
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Before settling in, I set up cameras in the kitchen and living room. I needed to see how they managed without me. This was only the beginning.
The next morning, I watched them from the camera feed as they stood in the kitchen, looking lost.
“Where’s Mom?” Tom asked, his voice unsure.
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“I don’t know,” Eliza said, glancing around. “But even her pictures are gone. The ones on the wall, too.”
“Her clothes aren’t in the closet,” Justin added, scratching his head.
Tom’s eyes widened. “Did our wish come true? Did Mom really disappear?”
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“Don’t be ridiculous,” Justin said, shaking his head.
“But she’s really gone!” Eliza insisted. “Her stuff isn’t here. There’s no sign of her at all.”
Justin pulled out his phone. “I’ll call her. This is probably some kind of joke.” But I had turned my phone off. He stared at the screen for a moment before putting it back in his pocket.
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“Okay, let’s go,” he said, sounding annoyed. “I’ll drop you off at school. We’ll figure this out later.”
Eliza hesitated. “Can I still go to Nancy’s sleepover?”
“Yes, yes. Just get in the car,” Justin said impatiently.
“Yes!” Eliza cheered. Then she grinned. “Maybe it’s better this way. Mom was always on my case anyway.”
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“That means I can play video games!” Tom shouted, jumping up.
I felt my chest tighten. My heart ached as I watched them. They didn’t miss me; they seemed relieved. They were happy I was gone.
That evening, I watched from the camera as Justin and Tom sat on the couch, laughing and playing video games.
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A pizza box sat open on the coffee table, grease stains already soaking into the cardboard.
I noticed Tom eating a big slice loaded with cheese. My stomach tightened. He was lactose intolerant. Justin, distracted by the game, had clearly forgotten.
The next morning, my fears were confirmed. Tom was curled up on the couch, pale and groaning.
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Justin scrambled to find medicine, muttering under his breath. He ended up staying home from work, trying to comfort Tom while also cleaning up the mess.
By the third day, chaos ruled. Dishes piled up in the sink, laundry was untouched, and the kids left for school with nothing but dry cereal in their hands.
That evening, Tom sat crying on the couch, overwhelmed. Even Eliza, who usually stayed distant, looked defeated. Her hair was a mess as she clutched her empty lunchbox.
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“I miss Mom,” Tom finally said, looking up at Justin. His little face was streaked with tears, and his lip trembled.
“Me too,” Eliza added, her voice quieter than usual. She looked down at her hands. “I got my period today, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to call Mom so bad, but I couldn’t. It made me feel awful.”
Justin sighed, leaning back on the couch. “I think this is because of what you both said. You told her you didn’t want her to exist. Now she’s showing you what that feels like.”
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“But that’s not true!” Eliza said, her voice cracking. Tears filled her eyes. “I was just mad. I didn’t mean it. I’m so stupid for saying that.”
Tom sniffled loudly. “I want Mom to come back. I’ll clean my room every day. I won’t bite anyone ever again. I promise.”
Eliza wiped her face and nodded. “I’ll stop yelling at her. I’ll listen better. I can’t live without her. I miss her so much,” she said, sobbing.
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Hearing their words broke the last bit of resolve I had. I stepped out of the shadows, standing in the doorway. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” I said, my voice firm but full of emotion.
They turned to me in shock before running into my arms. “Mom! You’re back!” they cried, hugging me tightly.
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“Really, it’s so good to see you,” Justin said, standing and walking over. “These past few days have shown me what a monumental job you do. I’ll try to make things easier for you from now on.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice soft.
“No, thank you, for everything,” Justin replied.
“Thank you, Mom! We love you so much!” the kids said together, holding on tight.
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