Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Calvin
The next morning, while Zoe ate pancakes in their suite, Marcus sat by the window overlooking Fifth Avenue. He thought of his father, Calvin.
Calvin Johnson had once been kicked out of a lobby in Chicago, thirty years ago, for sitting in a chair while waiting for a friend. He had told Marcus that night: “They think they own the building, but they don’t own the space. Dignity is the only thing that travels with you, Marcus. If you ever have the power to change a room, make sure you change it so everyone feels like they own a piece of it.”
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Marcus realized he had been so focused on the bottom line—the expansion, the acquisitions, the shiny press releases—that he had let the "Grand" in Grand Meridian overshadow the "Meridian." He had become the kind of man he vowed he would never be: too busy to notice the security guards, too focused on the skyline to look at the people holding it up.
He pulled out his laptop and drafted a letter to every employee in his thirty-two properties. It wasn't an apology for the incident; it was a mission statement.
