“Honestly, you should be grateful for this job,” Catherine sneered, leaning against the counter. I froze, then smiled faintly. “Grateful? I choose this work because it matters.” The room fell silent, disbelief in their eyes. And just as I finished my sentence, Ethan appeared, looking around with shock. “Simone? What are you doing here?” In one second, the dismissed server became the most important person in the room.
The Plaza Hotel, New York. 8 PM.
The clinking of crystal glasses, the soothing jazz music, and the scent of expensive perfume blended together to create an atmosphere thick with luxury. This was the annual Horizon Hope Foundation Charity Gala – an event that brought together the most powerful names on Wall Street.
But that was the world outside the velvet-lined double doors.
Inside the service station, it was a completely different world. The mingled smells of food, the clanging of dishes, and the shouting of the manager.
I, Simone, stood leaning against the cold stainless steel counter, rubbing my temples. My feet ached after four hours of running in my stiff black uniform shoes. I was wiping a red wine stain from my apron.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”
Catherine’s sharp voice rang out. Catherine was the Event Manager for the night. A 40-year-old woman with a high bun of blonde hair, a perfectly tailored suit, and the characteristic disdain of those with a little power in their hands.
“I’m wiping a stain, Mrs. Catherine,” I replied calmly. “A guest accidentally bumped into me.”
“Accidentally?” Catherine stepped forward, poking her elaborately manicured finger at my chest. “You’re the clumsiest person the HR department has ever sent here. Look at you, sloppy, slow. You’re disgracing the entire service team.”
She snatched the towel from my hand and threw it to the floor.
“I heard you refused Mr. Henderson’s tip at table number 5? Who do you think you are? Too high-minded to accept loose change?”
“He wanted me to drink with him,” I replied, looking directly at Catherine. “That’s not my job. And company policy prohibits employees from drinking with guests.”
Catherine laughed. A dry, sarcastic laugh. She glanced around, making sure the other staff were paying attention, then turned back to look at me as if I were a cockroach.
“Hey girl, where are you from? The Bronx slums or Queens? You need money, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be standing here serving people you’ll never be able to reach in your lifetime.”
She crossed her arms, leaning against the counter in a superior posture.
“Honestly, you should be grateful for this job,” Catherine sneered. “Grateful because we’ve given you the chance to breathe the same air as the upper class. If I fired you right now, you’d starve.”
The atmosphere in the kitchen fell silent. The other servers lowered their heads, pretending to be busy. They were afraid of Catherine. They needed this job to pay rent and tuition.
But I wasn’t.
I froze for a moment, staring at Catherine. I felt no fear. I only felt a profound pity for her ignorance and arrogance.
I smiled faintly. Not a smile of submission, but of absolute self-confidence.
“Gratitude?” I asked again, my clear voice echoing amidst the kitchen noise. “I chose this job because it has meaning.”
The room fell silent. Catherine raised an eyebrow, as if she had just heard the funniest joke of the century.
“Meaning?” she scoffed. “The meaning of cleaning up leftover food? Are you delusional?”
“The meaning of service,” I said, taking a step forward, closing the distance between us. “And the meaning of understanding what really goes on at the bottom of an organization. Mrs. Catherine, have you ever wondered why the budget for service staff is always cut by 20% in financial reports, while the quality of employee meals is getting worse and worse?”
Catherine’s face changed color. “You… what did you say?”
“I was talking about embezzlement,” I continued, my eyes cold. “And about attitude. Do you think this uniform makes me inferior to you?”
“Shut up!” Catherine shrieked, her face flushed. “You’re fired! Get out of here! Security? Drag this crazy woman out!”
The double velvet doors suddenly swung open.
Bright lights and music from the banquet hall flooded into the dimly lit kitchen. A man entered. He was wearing a sleek black tuxedo, tall and handsome, but clearly showing signs of anxiety.
It was Ethan Vance, CEO of Vance Global, the main sponsor and honorary chairman of tonight’s party.
Catherine’s demeanor instantly changed. She smoothed her hair, flashed a fawning smile, and hurried toward Ethan.
“Oh, Mr. Vance! What can I do for you? Excuse the noise, I’m dealing with an undisciplined employee…”
But Ethan didn’t look at her. He brushed past Catherine as if she were invisible. His gaze was fixed on me – the waitress in my uniform, standing amidst a pile of dirty dishes.
Ethan’s eyes widened.
“Simone?”
He exclaimed, his voice filled with astonishment in the silent room.
“What are you doing here?”
In an instant, the fired waitress had become the most important person in the room.
All eyes turned to me. Catherine stood frozen, mouth agape, her finger still pointing at me.
I sighed, took off my stained apron, and draped it over my shoulder.
“Hello, Ethan,” I said, a weary smile on my face. “I’m… checking on the staff.”
“A field inspection.”
“A field inspection?” Ethan stepped beside me, anxiously examining the stain on my sleeve. “But… Simone, you’re the Chair of the Board. You’re the founder of the Horizon Hope Foundation.” “Everyone’s been waiting for you at the VIP table to give the opening speech for the past 15 minutes!”
A crash echoed. Catherine dropped the tablet she was holding onto the floor. The screen shattered, just like her career at this moment.
“President… president?” Catherine stammered, her face drained of color. She looked at me, then at Ethan, then back at me. Her eyes darted wildly, trying to piece together the image of the humble waitress with the most powerful woman tonight.
The other staff members gaped in astonishment. The woman who had been washing dishes and mopping floors with them for the past four hours… was their boss?
I turned to look at Catherine.
“Yes, Catherine,” I said, my voice low but authoritative. “I am Simone Horizon.” “And the reason I chose this job today, chose to wear this uniform, is because I wanted to know why our employee turnover rate has been record-breaking for the past six months.”
I walked closer to Catherine, who was now trembling like a leaf.
“And I’ve found the answer. It’s not because of low pay. It’s not because of hard work.”
I pointed my finger at her face.
“It’s because of you.”
“Ma’am… I… I didn’t know…” Catherine knelt down, tears welling up. “I’m sorry! I thought you were a temporary employee… Please forgive me!”
“What if I really am a temporary employee?” I asked coldly. “Then you have the right to insult me? The right to belittle my labor? You say I should be grateful for this job? No, Catherine.” “She’s the one who should be grateful to have worked here, but she’s wasted it.”
I turned to Ethan.
“Mr. Ethan, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. But I think we need an urgent personnel change before the party starts.”
Ethan nodded, understanding immediately. He gestured to the security team standing at the door.
“Take Catherine out. Revoke her ID card. And inform the legal department to prepare dismissal papers for violating the code of conduct and…” Ethan looked at me.
“And embezzlement,” I finished. “I saw how you falsified the wine inventory just now, Catherine.” “Don’t think I’m just standing there wiping glasses.”
Catherine wailed and pleaded as two security guards dragged her away. Her cries echoed down the hallway, desperate and belated.
The kitchen fell silent again. The servers looked at me with a mixture of fear and admiration.
“Everyone,” I said, glancing around. “I apologize for this charade. But I promise, starting tomorrow, the working hours will change.” No one will be shortchanged on tips anymore, and the staff’s meals will be ordered from the same supplier as the guests’.
A hesitant round of applause broke out, then grew into cheers.
Ethan handed me his silk handkerchief. “Are you going on stage dressed like this?”
I looked down at my waitress uniform: a cheap white shirt, baggy black trousers, and clunky shoes.
“Why not?” I smiled. “Isn’t the theme of this year’s party ‘Understanding’?”
I stepped out of the kitchen door and into the opulent grand hall. Ethan walked beside me like a bodyguard.
As I stepped onto the stage, under the dazzling spotlights, hundreds of guests in glittering evening gowns and elegant suits fell silent. They stared in astonishment at the woman in the waitress uniform standing before the microphone.
Some whispered, thinking there had been a security incident.
I took a deep breath. Deep.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I began, my voice echoing through the room. “I am Simone Horizon.”
A murmur arose.
“Many of you may wonder why I’m dressed like this. Why not the Dior dress I had custom-made? Why do I look… so ordinary?”
I looked down at my hands, still faintly smelling of dish soap.
“Tonight, I spent four hours as a waitress. I was yelled at. I was scorned. I was told I should be ‘grateful’ for being allowed to breathe the same air as you.”
The entire room fell silent.
“And I realize that,” I continued, my gaze sweeping across the most powerful faces in New York. “We sit here, donating millions of dollars to help the poor, yet we rarely look into the eyes of the people pouring our drinks.” “We talk about equality, yet we allow arrogance to exist in our own homes.”
“Catherine, our former event manager, told me that service was lowly. But she was wrong. It is these hands,” I raised my hand, “that run the world. It is service that is at the core of leadership.”
“Therefore, tonight, I will not change my clothes. I will wear this uniform to remind myself, and to remind all of us, that: A person’s value lies not in their position, but in how they treat those below them.”
(Advancing)
The applause began to erupt. First Ethan. Then the people at the front table. And then, the entire audience rose to their feet.
The applause was thunderous, lasting endlessly. Not because I was the president. But because of the stark truth I had just revealed.
Chapter 2: The Toast
After the speech, I returned to the VIP table. But I didn’t sit down immediately.
I went over to a young waitress who was trembling as she poured wine for my table – the same girl Catherine had scolded earlier.
“What’s your name?” I asked gently.
“D-Daisy,” she stammered.
“Daisy, let me help you,” I took the bottle.
“Oh no, Mrs. President! I can do it!”
“Leave it to me,” I winked. “My shift isn’t over yet.”
I personally poured wine for Ethan and the guests at the table. Ethan raised his glass, looking at me with an expression of warmth and absolute respect.
“Cheers to Simone,” Ethan said. “The only woman in New York who can transform a $20 uniform into the most powerful outfit of the night.”
I clinked glasses with him. The Chateau Margaux wine had never tasted so good.
In a secluded corner outside The Plaza Hotel, Catherine was clutching her personal belongings, waiting for a taxi in the cold wind. She had lost everything because of a single sentence.
As for me, I had rediscovered the true meaning of my work. Not the soulless charity checks. But justice.
And I knew that, starting tomorrow, Horizon Hope would truly be a place of hope, not only for those in need outside, but also for the people quietly contributing within.
