Big Shaq Stays In His Own Hotel
Shaquille O’Neal, affectionately known as Big Shaq, stepped into the Grand Oasis Hotel’s lobby one quiet evening, dressed in gray sweats and oversized sneakers that seemed almost comical on anyone else. But for him, they were just part of his everyday attire. He had arrived without fanfare, wanting to observe the hotel he had recently acquired without drawing attention to himself. The Grand Oasis was now his silent investment, and he was eager to see how it operated behind the scenes.
The lobby was serene, with soft piano music playing in the background and the faint scent of jasmine wafting through the air. A few weary travelers shuffled toward the elevators, grumbling about flight delays, while the hotel staff moved with precision, their crisp uniforms a testament to professionalism. Shaq felt a sense of relief; everything appeared to be running smoothly.
At the reception desk, a young clerk named Tina greeted him with a polite smile. Her braided hair was neatly pulled back, and her demeanor was calm and collected. “Good evening, sir. May I have your name and reservation details?” she asked, her eyes flickering with recognition but her excitement kept in check.
Shaq returned her smile, checking in under the pseudonym “Neil Oack,” a playful alias that would keep him incognito. After receiving his key card, he made his way to the elevator, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity about the staff and their interactions with guests.
Once in his suite on the 12th floor, he took a moment to appreciate the elegant furnishings and the stunning view of the city below. The plush king-size bed beckoned him, and after a long day, he found himself drifting into a light sleep. However, around midnight, faint voices outside his room stirred him from his slumber.
At first, the words were indistinct, but as he listened more closely, he realized they were discussing him. “Did you see him? He takes up half the lobby,” one voice said, followed by another, “Yeah, that huge black guy. I’m surprised they let his type up here in first-class accommodations.”
Shaq’s heart sank. He recognized the sting of prejudice all too well. The comments were not just ignorant; they were laced with a deep-seated racism that made his blood boil. He tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole, spotting two employees in maroon uniforms—Lewis and Josh—leaning against a housekeeping cart, their conversation dripping with disdain.
He could have burst through the door and confronted them, but he chose a different approach. Instead, he grabbed his phone and texted Kiera, the general manager he had personally hired. “Need you on the 12th floor. Employees making racist comments. Please approach discreetly.”
About ten minutes later, he heard Kiera’s authoritative voice in the hallway. “Good evening, gentlemen. May I ask why you’re taking your break here outside a guest’s room?” Shaq pictured the two men tensing, caught off guard. Their excuses fell flat, and Kiera swiftly directed them to her office for a more serious discussion.
Once they were gone, Shaq exhaled, a mix of relief and frustration washing over him. He wanted to confront them himself, but he knew that Kiera’s involvement was necessary. He turned off the lamp and drifted back into an uneasy sleep, his mind racing with thoughts about the attitudes that might be prevalent among the staff.
The next morning, Kiera texted him to meet in the private lounge. When he arrived, she explained that she had confronted Lewis and Josh, who initially denied their comments but eventually admitted to making “less than courteous” remarks. Shaq’s jaw tightened as he listened. “Prejudice isn’t just an off-hand matter. Racism has no place here,” he said firmly.
Kiera proposed mandatory training to address biases, emphasizing that if they failed to comply, they would be terminated. Shaq agreed, believing in the potential for change. “I’m not out to ruin their livelihoods, but I won’t permit racism,” he stated.
When Lewis and Josh entered the room, their heads hung low in shame. Shaq addressed them calmly, asking them to share their thoughts again, this time to his face. Their apologies felt hollow, but he remained composed. “If you treat me this way, how do you treat other guests who don’t fit your idea of ‘first class’?” he pressed.
Kiera stood beside them, reiterating the importance of the training. Shaq nodded, believing in the power of education over punishment. “Let them learn. If they resist, we show them the door.”
As the day progressed, news spread among the staff that their new owner was none other than Shaquille O’Neal. Employees approached him with curiosity, eager to share their experiences. Shaq listened intently, assuring them that a new era was dawning at the Grand Oasis.
That evening, as he walked through the lobby, he noticed a lighter atmosphere. Employees greeted him with genuine smiles, relieved that positive changes were on the horizon. Even Tina mentioned that Lewis and Josh had apologized to her, seemingly remorseful.
Shaq felt hopeful. The Grand Oasis had the potential to be more than just a luxury hotel; it could become a beacon of kindness and respect. If he could guide the staff toward that ideal, perhaps the hotel would not only meet five-star standards but also embody genuine warmth for everyone who walked through its doors.
