Still wearing ragged clothes, Elvis strode into the grand marble-floored bank, determined.
The chandelier sparkled above him, and the air was filled with sounds of laughter, and prosperity. However, as soon as he entered, he noticed the indifferent glances from the bank staff. "Good morning. I'm here to open an account," Elvis announced, but the staff members who heard him acted as if he was invisible.
Within what seemed like a split second, a customer walked up to the counter close to where Elvis was standing. "Hello, Miss. I'd like to open an account." The young man wearing designer clothes said.
"You're very welcome, sir. Please take a seat," The staff said as she quickly brought out a form and attentively attended to the wealthy man, flashing warm smiles and engaging in a friendly conversation.
Undeterred, Elvis stood in line, waiting for his turn to speak with the bank representative. He watched as others who came after him were served promptly, but when it was his turn, he was blatantly ignored.
"I thought I just said that I wanted to open an account," Elvis repeated louder this time, but the representative did not seem to bulge, instead, she gave him an unwelcoming look, staring at his shabby clothes.
"Is this how you treat people in your bank; what's going on here?" Elvis asked in anger.
The young lady snapped. "As you can see, I'm busy. You can always open a Tier One account with your mobile phone. You don't need to walk into the bank to bother us with that, please! We have more important customers to attend to."
"What if I tell you that I'm here to open a platinum account?" Elvis asked with his eyes fastened on the representative. The representative looked at Elvis from head to toe, sizing him up. She believed he said it to get her attention.
"That's not possible. I'm sure the account you want to open is a Tier 1 account. Young man, I'm not ready for senseless talks. If you have nothing else to do with your time, please get out of here," the lady spoke harshly as she turned to face the other man before her.
"Sir, your account balance is $100,000,000."
"So, this rude lady was keeping him waiting because of a client whose account balance wasn't even more than a hundred million dollars!"
Elvis became angrier as he approached the lady more closely. "Why are you so rude and discourteous? You leave me standing here to attend to other customers. Can't you show some little courtesy?"
"Hey, don't run your mouth at me, or I'll order the security to kick you out of here!" The lady raised her voice as she continued to attend to other customers. Elvis wanted to move to another representative, but he noticed that several customers were already waiting in the queue.
While he thought of what to do next, the rude lady turned to him and asked him some questions, collecting his photograph. And within a few minutes, she looked up at Elvis.
"Here are your new account details."
"I said, I need to open a platinum account, not this!" Elvis yelled. The lady looked up at Elvis with a frown, surprised at his confidence. Most poor people hardly showed such boldness.
She hissed and passed a form at him, just to stop him from pestering her. Within a short while, Elvis' account was ready.
"You'll need to deposit a minimum of $50000 before you can use your new account. Here is your account number," the lady said as she handed a sheet to Elvis.
Elvis quickly texted the account number to the phone number which had called him earlier, introducing himself at the end of the message. Within a few minutes, his phone made a message notification sound, so he checked it.
"You have just been sent a sum of 1 billion dollars. Please check your account balance," the message read. "One billion dollars? This cannot be true," Elvis thought to himself.
He faced the young lady. "There is now more than $50000 in my account. Please confirm."
The lady hissed at Elvis.
"Stop wasting my time! I gave you that form and agreed to open the account because of your perking disturbance. Now, you stand there and continue to spill trash from your mouth, when you know you don't even worth up to a thousand dollars. Any more disturbance from you, I'll call security!" The lady threatened, ignoring Elvis.
"Do I look like I came here to play or joke?! Now listen, if you don't attend to me, I'll make sure I report you to your manager!" Elvis spoke with some kind of authority.
The lady looked up at Elvis in bewilderment. She began to be sceptical about who he was.
Peradventure he was "a mystery shopper", sent by the bank to spy on how she related with customers.
"Please, hold on a while." The lady said as she tried to check Elvis's account balance.
"What?! A billion dollars?!" The lady widened her eyes in shock with her lips open wide agape as she stared at Elvis and his shabby-looking outfit. Within the twinkle of an eye, she quickly jumped up from her seat.
"I'm sorry Mr Klein. Erm... You have a total of 1 billion dollars in your account!" She said, smiling very broadly. She got to know his name through his account information.
"What?!" Elvis muttered under his breath, ignoring the lady's sudden nice gestures. "So it's true. Can't believe this!" He screamed within himself.
Looking remorseful, the lady begged, "Sir, please I'm deeply sorry for the way I reacted. Please don't report me to the authorities. I thought..."
"Enough! I choose to do what I want," Elvis replied, looking at her in an unfriendly manner.
"Can you please come along with me?" The lady requested calmly, as she ushered Elvis to an inner room where he was given some special care and attention before the manager came to see him.
Throughout the time Elvis spent in the bank, he was lost in thoughts, still wondering if all that was happening to him was a dream. "So I truly have a rich uncle somewhere," he thought.
He looked at his tattered wristwatch; it was past 3 p.m. He had spent hours within the banking hall, unknown to him. The representative had delayed him so much, before attending to him.
Now, he couldn't contain his excitement. His story had changed, just in less than 24 hours!
As soon as he got out of the bank hall, he quickly called his Uncle's special assistant to inform him of the 1 billion dollars in his account.
Elvis knew that he could no longer go to check the estate on Berkeley Street before going to see his Uncle. It was just a few minutes to 4 p.m right now.
He quickly boarded a private vehicle, and before long, he was at his Uncle's luxurious mansion. He was greeted by the special assistant who had contacted him on the phone earlier. The assistant led him through opulent halls and grand rooms until they reached a spacious study where Mr Klein was already waiting.