When my dad died he left me a broken-down old hotel. Three million in debt, all the staff gone, rats in the lobby. My uncle said I wasn't worth it and told me to sell the hotel to him for 200k. I was 22, eyes wide open, and said: this hotel is mine to keep. First three months I couldn't even pay the electric bill. Then one rainy day a man in a luxury car showed up, soaked through, asking if there was a room. I gave him the shabbiest standard room I had. He stayed three days and left a black card and one line: next time I come back, your hotel can't look like this. Six months later he showed up with a whole hotel group — he said he was going to tear down my broken hotel and build a five-star. I stood in the lobby, stared him down, and said: this is my dad's hotel. Try to tear it down. Watch free on Palmbox.
