"In 40-50 thousand, you can only get one thing," the man said rudely, his tone dripping with disdain. "Either a good-looking bike that won't work properly, or an average-focused bike that doesn't look that good. Your budget is too small—we don't sell cheap bikes anyway. You should go to a smaller shop with cheap bikes!"
Ishaan's jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. "Fine," he said coolly, turning to leave. "No point wasting time here."
Just as he stepped toward the exit, a sharp voice rang out from behind. "Stop!" The command halted him in his tracks. A young, fierce-looking Punjabi girl emerged, her elegance and beauty radiating like a rich boss lady. "Sorry for his behavior," she said, her tone firm yet apologetic. She turned to the salesperson, her eyes narrowing. "Is this the way to treat a customer?"
The salesperson shifted uncomfortably. "But ma'am, his budget is small. It'll be a waste of time to show him around."
"A waste of time?" she snapped, her voice rising. "Your job is to show customers around, not judge their wallets! I'm keeping you because my father gave you the job, but how dare you have this mentality? This is my final warning—either change your behavior or resign! Now go!"
The man paled, mumbling, "Yes, ma'am," before scurrying off. She turned back to Ishaan, her expression softening slightly. "I apologize for that," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Please, let's talk. What are you looking for?" "Please, come to the counter. Let's see what we can do."
Ishaan nodded, following her. "Thank you," he replied, appreciating her directness. At the counter, she pulled out a notepad, her demeanor shifting seamlessly to business. "What's your budget and requirements?" she asked, pen poised.
In between jotting notes, Simi commanded the shop with a strong voice, delegating tasks to workers. "Raju, check that Pulsar's brakes—properly this time!" she barked at one mechanic. "And you, polish the Yamaha display; customers notice the shine!" She watched their work carefully, ensuring nothing slipped.
Ishaan laid out his needs. "40-50k budget. Good looks, around 50kmpl mileage. Reliable for daily drops—urgent, I need it today."
Simi tapped her pen, thinking. "I have a few bikes you'll be interested in. Follow me—I'll show them." She led him toward the back, her steps confident.
But a young man interrupted, sauntering up. "Simi!" he called, his tone casual. "What's up?"
"Not now, Deep," she said sharply, eyes on Ishaan. "I'm busy."
Deep glanced at Ishaan, noting his handsome features—tall frame, chiseled build, shining hair in a bun. Damn, he looks good, Deep thought, jealousy flaring. Is Simi interested in him? No way. He interrupted again. "Oh, Simi, is this the way you talk to your fiancé? Let someone else handle him. I came to talk about something important."
Simi shot him an angry look, her fierce eyes narrowing. "Deep, I said not now! Can't you see I'm with a customer?"
Deep crossed his arms, smirking. "Come on, it's just a low-budget guy. What's the rush?"
"Out!" Simi snapped, pointing to the door. "We'll talk later—or not at all if you keep this up."