The Eighty Million Dollar Slap

The third time the hotel clerk hammered on my door that morning, I lost it. The kind of rage I usually reserve for micromanaging clients, I unleashed on him.

Why in Gods name do you keep coming back? Is it really that difficult to let a paying guest get some sleep? I pulled three consecutive all-nighters to finalize a pitch, and all I want now is a few hours of peace!

Ordinarily, I could tolerate minor annoyances. But he had clearly seen the "Do Not Disturb" sign I'd physically fumbled onto the knob, yet he was determined to wake me up just so they could clean the room on their schedule. I was running on fumes, and my patience was nonexistent.

The other side of the door went quiet for a few seconds, followed by an audible, impatient tsk. His footsteps receded.

But it wasn't long before a louder, more aggressive pounding erupted.

Sir! Routine safety equipment check! We have to verify the smoke alarm is functional! Open the door, please!

My head was pounding. I raised my voice, trying to keep a lid on the fire: Its fine I promise the equipment is fine

I flipped over, pulling the covers over my head, desperately trying to trick myself back into a coma-like sleep.

I had barely managed to glue my eyelids shut for ten minutes.

Beep! Click-clack! The sound of the lock being overridden violently jolted me awake.

The young clerk, Devin, strode straight to the bed and ripped the duvet right off me! A small, smug smile played on his lips as he slammed a clipboard and pen onto the bedside table.

Since you are so certain you require no service, you must sign this form, confirming that you actively refused housekeeping and the safety check! he declared. That way, if you experience any loss of property or personal injury in this room, The Prescott Hotel is in no way liable!

I had finished the pitch to that micromanaging client after three continuous all-nighters, and I felt like the last vestiges of my soul had been drained out. Id barely made it back to the corporate-booked hotel, too exhausted to even unpack my carry-on. Before I sank into a complete blackout, Id groped for the "Do Not Disturb" sign and hung it on the outside of the door handle. Then I crashed.

At that point, I wouldn't have answered the door for the CEO of High-Rise Consulting herself.

But the moment my eyes closed, before I could even settle into the first phase of deep sleep, a distinct, insistent knocking had dragged me back from the edge of unconsciousness.

Knock, knock, knock

Housekeeping. Do you need the room serviced? A young male voice came through the thick door.

My eyelids felt weighted with lead, and my brain was stuffed with wet cotton. I didn't even have the energy to open my mouth. I buried my head into the pillow and covered my ears with the duvet, praying he would take the hint and leave.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!!

Instead of retreating, the knocking grew more rapid, more impatient.

Sir, please open the door! Housekeeping! The shout outside the door was louder now, carrying a distinct tone of annoyance and urgency.

My precious sleep was thoroughly shattered, and a wave of pure irritation washed over me. I struggled to prop up my heavy body, my throat dry and scratchy.

The sign is out! I don't need anything! Thank you!

Silence for a few seconds. Just when I thought I was finally in the clear, the voice came back, laced with suspicion: The sign is out? Are you are you sure youre okay in there?

It's the middle of the day. We have specific cleaning times. Youre messing up our schedule, and what about the other guests? We are busy, too!

I took a deep breath, trying to stifle the rising blaze of anger. I paid for the room. All I want is to sleep. Rules arent always fixed, are they? I said no. Please, just stop knocking.

Sleeping? In the middle of the day I heard the voice mutter, clearly disbelieving, before raising the volume again, utterly relentless: Fine, you want to sleep, but you have to be reasonable about our jobs, right? We have protocol. Your lack of cooperation makes things difficult! And frankly, with the door shut like this, who knows what youre up to in there?

A burst of raw fury shot to my head, and I started trembling. I fought the urge to yank this unreasonable person through the door and rip into him. I gritted my teeth and forced out the words: I am sleeping! What else would I be doing! Is this how your hotel treats guests? I swear I will complain!

The person outside seemed momentarily stunned, silent for a few seconds. Just as I thought he was giving up, I heard a very faint, resentful huff, followed by suppressed, but unmistakably clear, snippets of malicious, gossipy dialogue drifting in:

Seriously? What a psycho why so aggressive

Another male voice chimed in: Right? That Do Not Disturb sign is up like hes trying to hide a crime

Sleeping with the covers over his head in the middle of the day? Ugh, who knows what shady business hes running in there

I bet hes working the clock

Exactly. Look at how tired he is. Must have been a good nights hustle

My fury spiked, an electric shock. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Three days of blood, sweat, and tears on a project, and they turn it into some dirty hustle?! How dare they slander me like that? Just because I wanted to sleep behind a simple sign?

I was so angry my vision blurred, but I was too drained to physically fight. All I could do was bite back the venomous words at my throat, clutch the covers, and play dead.

After a long while, the footsteps finally seemed to fade. Silence.

I collapsed back onto the bed, utterly drained. My heart was still slamming against my ribs from the confrontation. My head was splitting. I closed my eyes and focused on steadying my breath, the lure of sleep finally returning.

Then, a knocking, more violent and urgent than before, erupted again.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Open the door! Routine safety equipment check, open up! It was Devins voice again, but this time, the impatience and menace were unmistakable.

Argh! I let out a low, frustrated growl, lunging upright in bed. My temples throbbed, and my heart raced even faster, jarred by the shock.

Stop knocking! I screamed toward the door. I said Im resting! I don't need any service! And I dont need any damn check!

Do your checks after I check out! Now leave immediately! Or I am filing a complaint right now!

Silence for two seconds. Just when I thought Id finally broken through his thick skull, his voice returned: Its hotel policy! If theres a safety incident because you wouldnt cooperate, who takes responsibility? You cant be this unreasonable

Shut up! I completely snapped. The accumulated stress, anger, and injustice exploded out of me. I am trying to sleep! Do you understand basic English?

I am warning you for the last time. If you knock on this door one more time, I am calling the corporate line and getting you fired!

The door finally went quiet. I gasped for air, shaking slightly from the adrenaline of my own rage. Surely, thats it.

Exhausted, I slumped back onto the bed, my heart still thump-thump-thumping like it wanted to break free. My sleep was irrevocably fragmented.

And then.

Beep! Click-clack!

A sharp electronic sound and the mechanical grinding of the lock being aggressively overridden rang out simultaneously. My heart seized up. Blood rushed to my head.

BANG! The room door was shoved open with brute force. The massive impact made the door frame vibrate, but the door was caught instantly by the security chain Id engaged the moment I entered. It only opened a gap of a few inches.

Tch! A frustrated, irritated sound came from outside. A face appeared in the narrow gapit was the same clerk, Devin. He strained to peer in, his face a mask of unconcealed annoyance and malice. His voice was sharp:

Oh! The security chain is on, is it? Who are you hiding from? Feeling a little guilty?

Hiding in your room in the middle of the day? You must really be running some sleazy operation in there, huh?

Or maybe youre hiding contraband? Open the chain right now! We have to check!

The last thread of my sanity snapped. I launched myself off the bed, flying to the door. Through the narrow slit, I stared at that revolting face. How dare you illegally override the lock on my room?!

Who gave you the authority?! I am a guest here! I paid for this room; it is my private space! You are committing illegal entry! Do you understand the law?!

Devin was momentarily stunned by my roar. A flash of panic crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a deepening maliciousness. He was about to retort, but I didnt give him the chance. My voice went shrill: I have a congenital heart condition! Your constant banging and now your forced entry has scared my heart into a panic attack! Its pounding out of my chest!

If something happens to me right now, if I have a heart attack because you scared me to death! You will be a murderer! Are you prepared to face that kind of charge?!

I gasped for breath: I was patient! I was willing to let it go, worker to worker! But youve pushed me too far! You think Im an easy target?!

Our furious argument was painfully loud in the quiet corridor. The door of the room next to mine opened. So did the door across the hall. Several guests in pajamas or casual clothes poked their heads out, looking on with a mix of curiosity and eager anticipation.

The moment Devin saw the audience, his expression transformed. The aggressive bully vanished. He instantly backed away, his eyes turning red, his shoulders starting to tremble. His voice broke into a heavy sob:

Everyone, please judge! I was just following hotel policy to check the safety equipment, for everyones safety

And this guest he he wouldnt cooperate, and then he started screaming at me calling me an intruder, threatening to file a complaint telling me to get lost

Were just working people! Why is it so hard to do our jobs Just because we work in service, does that mean we deserve to be looked down on and bullied by guests?

He sobbed dramatically, using the back of his hand to wipe away tears that werent quite there.

His complete reversal and tearful, twisted version of events instantly won the sympathy of the uninformed onlookers.

A middle-aged woman in a robe frowned and spoke up: Listen, sir, you need to calm down. The young man is just doing his job. Its not easy

Exactly. A quick check is for your own good. Why scream and swear at him? another man chimed in.

People these days, they complain about everything. Bullying the workers someone else muttered under their breath.

The baseless accusations pierced me like needles. I was shaking with anger. I locked eyes with Devin, who was still dabbing at his tear ducts, playing the picture of pathetic vulnerability.

I snatched the security chain off the latch and stepped out into the hallway, my gaze sweeping over the handful of guests who had sided with him. You all are quick to jump in, arent you?

My voice wasnt loud, but every word was razor-sharp, squeezed out through clenched teeth: Fine, then you listen up!

I have a severe congenital heart condition! I pointed to my chest, speaking slowly and deliberately. And right now, this employee, who illegally entered my room and slandered me, has infuriated me to the point that my heart is extremelydistressed! If, in the next second, I collapse here from an emotional heart attack! You

My finger stabbed towards the guests whod spoken up, Your words just now made you accessories! You were the trigger! I will not let a single one of you off the hook. I will instruct my lawyer to sue all of you! I will sue you until you lose everything! Go ahead, keep taking his side!

The hallway fell into immediate, stunned silence. A threat is abstract until it hits close to home. The faces of the righteous, judgmental onlookers instantly shifted. They exchanged panicked, worried glances.

The woman in the robe forced an awkward laugh and quickly waved her hands. Oh, hey, young man, please don't get upset. I was just speaking casually, no offense intended.

Yeah, yeah, this has nothing to do with us, the others quickly echoed, desperate to distance themselves from the potential legal nightmare.

Seeing his reinforcements retreat, the tears on Devins face evaporated instantly, as if a switch had been flicked off. He quickly wiped his face, his pitiful expression gone. He shot me a venomous glare, let out a cold huff through his nose, and marched away.

Watching his back disappear around the corner, and confirming the nosy guests had closed their doors, the extreme tension in my body suddenly released. Back inside the room, I slid down the door panel to the floor, completely drained. My heart was still hammering, and my back was drenched in cold sweat.

Finally quiet?

I struggled to my feet, stumbling back towards the bed, plunging my face deep into the pillow. Just as my frayed nerves began to relax and sleep threatened to return.

Beep! Click-clack!

The sharp sound of breaking metal and the mechanical 'beep-clack' of the lock being forced open erupted simultaneously. I shot my head up, eyes wide.

The next second, the room door was violently thrust inward. The thin security chain had been clipped clean through by a pair of massive metal pliers. That persistent little ghost of a clerk was back.

He charged to the bedside in a few steps and ripped the blanket right off me. All pretense was gone from his face, replaced by a vicious malice and the satisfaction of a job well done. He raised his hand.

SLAP!

An incredibly loud, crisp slap landed squarely on my face.

You wont cooperate, huh?! Was opening the damn door really that difficult?!

My cheek was stinging, hot and throbbing. My ears were ringing. I clutched my face, staring in disbelief at Devin standing over the bed.

You! You assaulted me?! Security! Im calling the police! Im calling the police right now!

I tried to lunge at him, but the combination of sleeplessness, shock, and anger left my body feeling like lead. My vision swam. Devin deftly stepped back, the smirk instantly wiped away, replaced by a look of manufactured terror. His voice went shrill and frantic as he yelled toward the door:

Security! Help! The guest is attacking me! Help!

Almost the moment his cry ended, two burly men in security uniforms, Ray and Vic, materialized and blocked the doorway. They were clearly waiting. One of them even had a smartphone out, its camera light glaring, aimed coldly at the interior of the room.

One of the guards, Ray, frowned and spoke sternly: Sir! Calm down! Don't get physical! We received a report that you are highly agitated and showing violent tendencies!

Violent tendencies?! I felt like I was going to throw up blood. I pointed to the rapidly swelling side of my face. Look closely! He broke into my room! He cut the security chain! He hit me! HE did this!

Devin immediately cowered behind the security guards, sobbing melodramatically: I I didnt I just saw he wouldn't open the door and I was afraid he was in trouble, so I followed protocol and forced entry to check on him I gently woke him, and he suddenly went crazy and tried to hit me I was terrified

Youre lying! I roared. You are twisting the facts! Is this how your hotel allows employees to commit assault?! I demand to see your manager, now! Immediately!

See the manager? Fine! Devin suddenly peered out from behind the guard. There was not a trace of a tear, only a cruel, vicious look in his eye. He gave a malicious little smile. But before you see the manager, we need to ensure your safety. Didnt you just say you have a heart condition? And that you were about to die of fright?

Well, The Prescott Hotel takes the life safety of its guests very seriously!

He suddenly raised his voice, ordering the security guards: Ray, Vic, this gentleman claims he is having a heart attack and his condition is critical! Notify the emergency services immediately and secure the scene!

What?! I was completely blindsided.

The two guards exchanged a hesitant look, but they seemed more inclined to follow the instruction. One of them immediately pulled out a walkie-talkie: Front Desk to command! Emergency situation! Room 816 guest suffering sudden cardiac arrest! Requesting EMS!

The other guard, Vic, stepped forward, his eyes sharp, his phone still aimed at me.

You you A chilling sense of cold horror washed over me. They were painting me as a lunatic, a liar, a disruptive guest trying to extort the hotel.

The sheer absurdity of the situation, coupled with the ice-cold fear, gripped me.

I had just wanted a few hours of sleep after an all-nighter, and I had been systematically forced into this nightmare scenario.

My cheek was burning, and my heart, genuinely, was starting to beat erratically due to the confluence of rage and terror.