I anxiously waited for my father to answer his phone, finally hearing his deep voice on the fifth ring. "Hello," he said. I skipped the small talk and got straight to the point. "When you arranged my business trip to Asia, who booked my hotel reservation?" I asked, trying to contain my impatience. My father's tone turned serious. "Your secretary handled it. Is there a problem?" I glanced over at Andre, who was engaged in a conversation with the receptionist. I didn't want to alarm my father, so I downplayed the issue. "There was a minor mix-up with the reservation, but I'm getting it sorted out right now." With that, the call ended.
I approached Andre and the receptionist, interrupting their heated discussion. "Excuse me, I'd like to resolve this issue. Can I get a different room, please?" I asked, pulling out my credit card and placing it on the counter. The receptionist shook her head, "I apologize, sir, but we're fully booked for the night."
