Chapter 3Do Not Disturb: A Corporate Drone's First-Class Revenge

I looked at the red scratch on my arm, then at the printer paper now resting on my tray table, densely packed with questions.

It was the middle of summer, and I had been sweating profusely. The fresh paper cut stung like fire as sweat seeped into it.

Anger flared up inside me, burning so hot my tongue felt tied into knots.

Just as I was trying to find the words to express my fury, the flight attendant leaned in and meticulously instructed me.

"You can't just check the multiple-choice boxes. Please make sure to fill out the detailed comments section as well."

"This is so we can reflect and summarize our performance, allowing us to provide you with better service in the future."

My tongue untied itself, but my brain felt like it was short-circuiting.

My only request was that she leave me alone so I could sleep.

Why was it absolutely necessary for her to repeatedly wake me up?

If I were sitting in the emergency exit row, I would force myself to stay awake to fulfill my duties, no matter how tired I was.

But I was just a regular passenger. Saying no to food is a right. Saying no to a survey is a right.

Seeing me sit in stunned silence, a flash of impatience crossed the flight attendant's eyes, though her smile grew even sweeter and more accommodating.

"Ma'am, are you having trouble reading the English on the form?"

"If needed, we can provide Spanish or French translation services for you."

Before my exhausted brain could even process the insult, she leaned down, starting her unsolicited translation.

"Estimada pasajera... Dear passenger, thank you for your cooperation..."

Her accent was terrible. Honestly, if this were any other time, I might have found the sheer audacity amusing.

But right now, I had absolutely zero patience left.

"You want feedback? Here's your feedback."

I grabbed the pen she had forced on me and aggressively drew a massive 'X' across the entire survey.

I pressed down so hard the pen tore right through the paper.

"Ma'am, you..."

The sudden outburst left the flight attendant—who had been smugly butchering her translation moments before—staring in utter shock.

Before she could react, I whipped out my phone and snapped a photo of the torn survey and her face.

I take back what I said earlier.

I was reporting her. As soon as I got off this business trip, I was filing a formal complaint.

I’ve flown countless times, and I had never met a flight attendant this unhinged.

"You can leave now. Save yourself the effort of trying to patronize me."

"And you don't need to 'reflect and summarize' for the future, because I will never fly this airline again."

I didn't mince words. I crumpled the torn survey into a ball and tossed it into the seatback pocket, completely ignoring how the flight attendant's smile was freezing over, inch by inch.

"Ma'am, I am so sorry."

"Please do not let my individual mistake affect the evaluation of our entire flight crew."

"You can apologize to me however you want, but my colleagues are innocent. Please do not project your anger onto innocent people."

"Adults should know how to maturely manage their emotions, instead of..."

Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she stubbornly held them back. Her voice was full of grievance, every word articulated clearly.

I squeezed the airsickness bag in my hand until it crumpled.

Excuse me? When did I say I was reporting the entire crew?

What kind of toxic, guilt-tripping corporate logic was this?

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in again. I looked at the flight attendant, who was putting on a tearful performance while stubbornly refusing to leave my side.

There truly is a wall in communication between some people. With bizarre individuals like her, the best tactic is to completely ignore them.

Thinking this, I pulled out my laptop.

Since sleep was out of the question, I might as well use the time to review my presentation one more time.

But the very next second, a scalding cup of hot coffee was splashed all over my keyboard.

Watching the dark brown liquid seep deeper and deeper into the keys, I frantically leaned over, trying to dig through my bag for tissues.

But before I could even pull them out, a heavy coffee pot hovered directly over my arm, blocking my access to the tissues.

"I'm so sorry, I just wanted to pour you a cup of coffee to apologize..."