Chapter 2Do Not Disturb: A Corporate Drone's First-Class Revenge

I wasn't a "Ma'am."

I was a victim.

I was a corporate workhorse enslaved by my boss, and currently, I was a monkey in a zoo being gawked at.

I opened my eyes, my gaze slowly sweeping over my surroundings.

Even through the haze of sleep deprivation, I could clearly feel the burning stares coming at me from all directions.

"Alright, alright, don't give her a hard time. The flight attendant is just doing her job."

"Seriously. She's just a young girl, why does that passenger have such a nasty temper?"

"She's probably just jealous because the flight attendant is pretty. She's giving her a hard time on purpose."

They weren't just staring; they were gossiping.

And they weren't even whispering.

I rubbed my aching neck, took a deep breath, and didn't rush to respond to the teary-eyed flight attendant. Instead, I looked straight at the older couple who were gossiping the loudest.

I didn't say a word. I just stared.

However long they kept talking, this "hard-working" flight attendant would have to stand in front of my furious face.

This is called pressure transfer.

My boss uses it in meetings all the time. I took the best parts of the tactic and discarded the rest.

The results were instantaneous.

Soon enough, the flight attendant standing before me, as well as the nosy passengers on either side, followed my gaze to the couple.

The couple exchanged an awkward glance and sheepishly lowered their heads.

External threats neutralized; time to handle the internal issue.

I slowly looked up at the flight attendant in front of me.

She blinked her reddened eyes, looking at me innocently. It was as if I were the wicked hunter, and she was a cornered, helpless fawn.

Finally realizing I wasn't an easy target, she spoke, her voice pitiful.

"Ma'am, I am so sorry. I only wanted to provide you with better service."

"I'm still in my probationary period. Please give me a chance, okay?"

"Please don't file a complaint against me. I promise I'll be more careful and fix my mistakes in the future."

An apology was fine. There was no need to push someone to the brink.

Even though I still felt incredibly annoyed, I shook my head at her.

"It's fine. I won't report you. We're all just trying to make a living."

"I just want to sleep. Until the plane lands, please do not wake me up for meal service or anything else."

"Seriously. Please."

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

This time, I watched the flight attendant turn around and walk toward the other end of the plane before finally burying my face back into the seat cushion.

The unpleasant interruption was finally over. If I didn't catch up on sleep now, I would be nodding off like a pigeon pecking at grain during my afternoon meeting.

My meticulously prepared presentation—the "minimalist but with flair" deck—would be dragged through the mud by the client.

All my hard work, and the final payment, would vanish into thin air.

Interrupted sleep is incredibly hard to resume. After repeatedly inhaling and counting sheep, drowsiness finally hit me.

Just as I was sinking into that hazy, blissful state, a sharp pain shot up my arm. I opened my eyes, wincing.

The next second, the sharp, stiff edge of printer paper was thrust into my face.

The flight attendant had returned. She solemnly handed a pen to me.

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