I followed the sound and spotted a middle-aged woman in a hotel uniform standing at the end of the hallway. She was hunched over, her shoulders trembling slightly as if she was trying her best to hold back tears.
In front of her, a young man was jabbing his finger at her, shouting angrily.
"Are you stupid or what? How many times do I have to say it? I want whiskey neat! Neat! Don't you understand?" The young man's face was contorted with rage, spit flying as he barked at her, his tone arrogant and overbearing.
The middle-aged woman kept her head down, her hands tightly clasped together as she quietly replied, "Sir, I've already explained, our hotel serves whiskey pre-chilled, and we can't..."
"Can't what? Can't meet my request?" the young man cut her off harshly, his voice growing even
