The moment I hung up, the room went dead silent. The clients seated around me were all staring.
A few longtime business partners wanted to know what happened. I showed them the bill, and the table erupted—every one of them calling it outrageous, turning on the staff, demanding an explanation.
The manager appeared quickly.
I glanced at her name badge.
Janet Gilbert, manager of Harborview House. I came here often enough to know her by sight.
Under normal circumstances, Janet would greet me warmly whenever she saw me.
But right now, there was something urgent in her eyes.
She looked at me. "President Dickerson, what's going on here?"
"Come on, it's a dinner bill—you really had to call the police?"
"You've got clients sitting right here. Neither of us wants this turning into a scene, do we?"
"Just pay it and be done with it."
"President Dickerson, a woman in your position—this amount is nothing to you, right?"
She said it like she was doing me a favor.
I looked at her coldly.
"Manager Gilbert, if this were my bill, I'd pay it without a word."
"But it isn't my bill."
"So tell me. What exactly is the story behind it?"
I held up the two-hundred-thousand bill and fixed Janet with a hard stare.