Achashveirosh and Haman are animated by the two poles of shame and honour. The entire Purim story can perhaps be seen as a critique of this.
Enraged and insulted at Vashti's refusal to obey him, Achashveirosh banishes her. Haman too cannot bear the dishonour of one court advisor not bowing down to him. "The glory of Haman's wealth, the large number of sons, and the king's promotion of Haman above all the officials and royal servants" all paled in comparison to the perceived slight to Haman's self-inflated image of Mordechai refusing to prostrate himself before him. As Haman bitterly complained, all my wealth, success, and family "mean nothing to me so long as I see the Jew Mordechai sitting at the king's gate."
When asked by Achashveirosh to theoretically propose what reward a deserving person should receive by a ruler whose Empire and resources spanned continents, Haman thought of nothing other than the opportunity to be donned in the king's robe and golden crown and to be paraded along the streets on a horse.
Honour was what fuelled these two figures, any feeling of shame struck them so painfully.
This hunger for honour and the visceral distaste for any disrespect, however small or insignificant, consumed both Haman and Achashveirosh; it is what propelled Haman to his downfall. He refused to be dishonoured, and sought recognition from all.
The Jewish People could not be more different. In the most dramatic turn of events, Mordechai and Esther rose to greatness and influence, yet they never cared about honour. By the end of the Purim story, the Jewish People too stood in a position of prestige. As the Megilah recounts:
"No one stood in the Jewish People's way for their fear had fallen upon all the nations. Moreover, all the provincial officals and governors deferred to them because the fear of Mordecai had fallen upon them, for Mordechai was no preeminent in the royal palace and his fame was spreading throughout all the provinces. The man Mordechai grew increasingly greater."
Yet the Jewish People were wholly uninterested in basking in their own glory or in exploiting their newfound position. They did not even seem to notice the honour and trepidation afforded to them. They took no spoils nor abused their power. Instead they were possessed with two entirely different character traits: happiness and comradary. They celebrated with "feasting and gladness… sending gifts to their friends and portions to the poor." Honour and shame were not their concern.
A person has to try, the Rambam instructs us, to purge himself of any traces of honour and arrogance (and anger for that matter). It is a trait, our Sages declare, that "removes a person from this world." In fact, feeling insulted every so often, is not the worst thing. Those are the petty middot that fuelled and corrupted Achashveirosh and Haman.
Appreciating this theme of the Purim story, how it can be read almost as a musser sefer, critiquing the trait of honour and how destructive it can be, helps us understand the last chapter of the Megilah, an otherwise obscure appendage to the Purim tale:
"...All the acts of Mordechai's power and his might and the full account of Mordecai's greatness, how the king advanced him are written in the book of the chronicles of the kings of Media and Persia. For Mordechai the Jew was viceroy to King Ahasuerus, great among the Jews, and accepted by most of his brethren; seeking the good of his people and speaking peace to all their descendants."
True, this final chapter is telling us, Mordechai indeed attained high office within the Persian kingdom, a rank of esteem and importance, but go read that in the history books of old! That was not his focus and nor is it ours. Unlike Achashveirosh and Haman, we do not value honour.
What really mattered and what was recorded in the Megilah for our prosperity, was that he sought "the good of his people" and determinedly "pursued peace."
Happy Purim! 
Gav is an Account Executive in a London PR Firm. He has written for a number of publications and has a weekly Dvar Torah column in the UK Press.