food.
Robert thought none of that counted as real work.
Then came the Thursday night that changed everything.
Robert had been talking about a promotion for months.
His company was choosing a new regional director, and Robert was sure the position would be his.
His boss, Mr. Harrison, had worked with him for almost fifteen years. Robert constantly talked about him.
“Mr. Harrison respects people who work hard.”
“Mr. Harrison knows I’m management material.”
“Mr. Harrison notices everything.”
That Thursday, Robert came home nervous.
“The final decision is tomorrow,” he said.
Then he looked at my uniform.
“You’re working tonight?”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“Of course.”
I ignored him.
Around 8:30 that evening, our restaurant was packed. I was carrying two plates toward table nine when the front door
opened. A gray-haired man entered with a woman and another couple.
I
