Chapter 1Do Not Disturb: A Corporate Drone's First-Class Revenge

I was trying to catch up on sleep on my flight when a flight attendant unexpectedly shook me awake.

"Excuse me, ma'am. I noticed you didn't order a meal. Are you feeling unwell?"

I shook my head. "Just tired. I'm going to sleep. No food for me, thank you."

But ten minutes later, the exact same flight attendant woke me up again.

"Are you absolutely sure you don't want to eat? We have a wide variety of options for our in-flight service today."

I waved my hand dismissively. "Please, I just want to sleep. I really don't want to eat."

I had finally managed to string together a few minutes of interrupted sleep. I didn't expect to open my groggy eyes and be met with the flight attendant's overly eager gaze yet again.

"If you're not eating, I need you to fill out this survey and explain exactly why."

"And you can't just check the multiple-choice boxes. This is so we can provide you with better service in the future."

* * *

After pulling an all-nighter, I was flying out of state for a business trip.

Tray table locked, seatbelt fastened. The sound of the plane's engines roaring to life was my favorite lullaby, signaling my long-awaited date with the Sandman.

This particular client was notoriously difficult to please. The night before the trip, they were still asking me to "make the black pop" on our presentation design.

Thankfully, after rushing and burning the midnight oil, I finally submitted a deck they were satisfied with.

A three-hour flight isn't incredibly long, but it isn't short either. It was just enough time for a deep, restorative nap.

Terrified of being disturbed during the meal service, I pulled out a sticky note I had written while waiting at the gate and slapped it right on the seatback in front of me.

Neon yellow paper, bold red Sharpie.

"Please do not wake for meal service. Thank you."

Normally, I'm not this aggressively extroverted. But having a deep, sweet sleep interrupted is a cruel and unusual punishment.

My eyelashes fluttered shut, and I drifted off beautifully. But before I could even reach the drooling stage of a good nap, a warm touch pressed against my arm.

At the same time, a saccharine female voice leaned close to my ear.

"Ma'am, what would you like for your meal today?"

I waved my hand in despair and pointed at the sticky note on the seat in front of me.

But the voice beside me didn't disappear. Instead, it went up an octave.

"We have the beef bowl or the chicken and rice. Which one would you prefer?"

"Ma'am? Ma'am?"

Through the relentless calling, I forced myself to muster a shred of consciousness.

"No, thank you. I'm not eating. Thanks."

Forcing a chronically exhausted corporate drone to speak and answer questions is a cruel thing, but I figured the flight attendant was just doing her job.

Wage slaves shouldn't make life harder for other wage slaves. That was a core philosophy I adopted after entering the corporate world.

My eyelids grew heavy. I snuggled into my seat, desperately hoping to seamlessly transition back into sleep.

But the very next second, the flight attendant's voice rang out again.

"Are you really sure you don't want to eat, ma'am?"

"The food on this route gets great reviews. People rave about it on TikTok and Instagram all the time."

God help me. Was this airline meal made of gold? Was it mandatory that I eat it?

"Thank you, but I really don't want to eat. I just want to sleep."

"And please, you don't need to ask me again. Thank you."

I pointed to the sticky note on the seat again, blindly grabbed my noise-canceling headphones from my pocket, and put them on.

My verbal, physical, and visual rejections didn't buy me peace. Instead, the flight attendant crouched down and spoke in a voice that sounded sincere, but was perfectly calibrated to carry to the rows in front of and behind me.

"It's completely fine, ma'am."

"These meals are complimentary and included in the price of your ticket. There's no extra charge, so you really don't need to worry about the cost."

That woke me up.

I was pissed.

"I told you I want to sleep and not to wake me up. What is your goal in repeatedly harassing me and asking me questions?"

"And bringing up the cost? With your twisted logic, working as a flight attendant is a waste of your talents. You should go write soap operas; you'd probably get a billion views overnight."

"Just go, go away. I'm begging you."

I put my hands together in a pleading motion, turned my body away, closed my eyes, and tried to salvage the rest of my time.

But a second later, the flight attendant stood up, her voice choking with tears.

"Ma'am, are you feeling unwell?"

"I apologize, I was only worried about you."

"Ma'am? Ma'am?"