“I am.”
Her mother studied her.
“Did somebody upset you?”
The waitress laughed softly.
“Do you have some kind of secret camera in my apartment?”
“I raised you.”
The waitress sat on the sofa.
For several minutes, they talked about ordinary things.
Her father's latest physical therapy appointment.
A cousin's new baby.
The weather.
A neighborhood church fundraiser.
Then her mother asked whether she had heard anything about the consulting dispute.
The waitress hesitated.
“Something happened tonight.”
Her mother's expression changed.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me.”
The waitress explained the encounter in simple terms.
She described the billionaire insulting her in Korean and his reaction when she answered.
Her mother listened without interrupting.
When the waitress finished, the older woman shook her head.
“He thought you couldn't understand him?”
“Yes.”
“And he said those things right in front of you?”
“Yes.”
Her mother looked angry.
Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
“What?”
The waitress stared at the screen.
“Mom.”
“I know. It's serious.”
“Very.”
“But I wish I could have seen his face.”
Despite herself, the waitress laughed.
Her mother laughed too.
Then the older woman's expression softened.
“Baby, you worked so hard to get where you were.”
“I know.”
“And you lost a lot.”
The waitress lowered her eyes.
“I know.”
“But listen to me. Don't ever let someone make you feel small because you're working an honest job.”
The waitress felt her throat tighten.
Her mother continued.
“When you were little, your father used to come home with grease on his clothes and cuts on his hands. Some people treated him like he didn't matter because he fixed buses.”
The waitress remembered.
“He used to say that every person who got home safely depended on somebody doing a job most people never thought about.”
Her mother nodded.
“Exactly.”
The waitress wiped one eye.
“So don't be ashamed of carrying plates. And don't be ashamed of speaking up when something is wrong.”
“I wasn't ashamed.”
“I know. But sometimes people try to put shame on you anyway.”
The waitress sat quietly.
Then her mother added, “And please eat something.”
The waitress laughed.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Something real. Not those crackers you call dinner.”
“I'll make food.”
“And get some sleep.”
“I will.”
They said goodnight.
The waitress put her phone down and sat in silence.