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." 01 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?" 02 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." 03 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..." 04 "I'm so sorry, I just wanted to pour you a cup of coffee to apologize." "Please don't be angry. I'll pour you a fresh cup right now." "Please, I beg you, do not report our crew..." Buzz, buzz, buzz. Her voice echoed relentlessly in my ears. I wearily lifted my head and looked at her. Both of her hands were tightly gripping the coffee pot. She lowered her eyes, looking like a child who had made a mistake. Yet, right next to her on the beverage cart sat a thick stack of life-saving napkins, which she conveniently ignored. "Move your hands first. Let me grab some napkins to wipe off my keyboard." I spoke, my voice dripping with exhaustion. At this point, the only thing that mattered was saving my laptop. I truly didn't have the energy to care about anything else. The sticky coffee liquid dried on my dark clothing. After a lot of scrubbing, the keyboard finally looked somewhat normal again. Though it was a mess, at least my most crucial piece of equipment had survived. I slumped numbly back against the seat, glancing at the time on my desktop screen. There was an hour and a half left until landing. Instead of trying to salvage a fragmented nap, I decided to go to the lavatory and wash my face. With that in mind, I unbuckled my seatbelt and started to stand up to head toward the back. The next instant, a splash of hot coffee was dumped directly onto the top of my head. Drip, drop. The coffee ran down my hair, soaking into my undershirt. I stood frozen in shock, instantly transforming into a walking espresso machine. "What the fuck..." Feeling the sticky, hot mess covering my body, and remembering my tight schedule after landing, my rage finally overpowered my exhaustion. I wrung the coffee out of my bangs and glared coldly at the flight attendant who caused this disaster. Just as I was about to speak, she set the coffee pot down and looked at me with disdain. "Ma'am, I have already apologized to you." "You can be unhappy with me, but we are in a public space. Please mind your manners." ??? She was speaking English, but put together, I didn't seem to understand the logic at all. Remembering the photos I had taken on my phone, I forcefully swallowed my anger. I turned sideways to avoid brushing against the seats and walked into the lavatory. Splashing cool water on my face made me feel slightly better. After landing, I'd get my checked luggage first, then change my clothes in an airport restroom. I had a Ziploc bag in my carry-on with a spare change of clothes. I could send the dirty ones to the hotel's laundry service later. As for my hair... I'd have to see if I could find a salon near the meeting location to get it quickly washed and blown out. With the next steps clear in my head, I wiped the stains off my body. But the moment I pushed open the lavatory door and stepped out, I was met with two eager faces. "Hello, I am the Purser for this flight." "I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

05 I stared at the smiling Purser in front of me. My first thought was— Finally, someone is stepping up to resolve this miserable day. The flight attendant had mentioned earlier that she was still on probation. So it seemed the Purser had come to clean up her unreliable subordinate's mess. Recalling my own experiences in the corporate world, my initially hardened attitude softened a bit. "Go ahead." "It's just... we are very sorry about what happened today." "We feel terrible for causing you so much trouble." "But seeing as you're quite young, I hope you can understand. Sometimes, when new employees face tricky situations, they might not handle them perfectly." "Regarding today's events, let's meet each other halfway." "We won't file an incident report regarding your uncivil behavior on the plane, and we ask that you kindly refrain from filing a complaint against our flight crew." "After all, if we really get down to it, everyone made mistakes today. Compromise makes the world go round, right?" The Purser's tone was earnest, her delivery seemingly heart-to-heart. But I felt like a massive, heavy pot of blame was hovering right above my head, ready to crash down. "Everything that happened today—whether it was repeatedly interrupting my rest, or spilling coffee on me twice and damaging my property—was entirely due to your employee's incompetence." "There is no 'meeting halfway.' And there is certainly no 'everyone made mistakes.'" "As for whether I file a complaint, that is my personal right. You have no authority to interfere, let alone gaslight me." "Now please move aside. I need to get back to my seat and rest." "Excuse me." Saying my piece in one breath, I walked back to my seat, reeking of coffee. I originally thought a three-hour flight wasn't that long. Now, it felt like an eternity. I wished I could teleport straight into my hotel room. Stay calm, Sarah. Stay calm. I repeated the mantra in my head. The moment the plane landed, I was in the first group to stand up and sprint toward the cabin door. My meeting with the client was set for 4:00 PM. It was currently 1:30 PM. Initially, I thought I could tolerate the coffee stains until I reached the hotel I booked to clean up. But looking at it now, I couldn't stand it for another second. Get the luggage, get the luggage, get the luggage... I stood in front of the baggage carousel, craning my neck, anxiously waiting for my suitcase. The sticky, hot discomfort all over my body, combined with the crucial 4:00 PM meeting, had me burning with anxiety. But the carousel spun round and round. Until every other suitcase was claimed, and a lone teddy bear sat abandoned in a bin. I still hadn't seen my luggage. ...Was I waiting at the wrong carousel? I shifted my gaze to the display board above. My flight number was clearly listed there. It couldn't be this coincidental. Was it lost? I walked briskly toward the airline's baggage service desk. As I passed a corner, I heard a familiar laugh. "Oh my gosh, when she comes over later, just tell her the suitcase can't be found. It happens all the time anyway." "Or just say there was a prohibited item in her checked bag and it was delayed during transfer." "Any random excuse will work. It's not like we're keeping it from her forever; we're just making her wait a tiny bit longer." "Who told her to have such a nasty temper? She has absolutely no 'chill'. Always sweating the small stuff." 06 I stood frozen in place, my blood rushing straight to my head. Behind me, the flight attendant I had clashed with earlier hadn't noticed my presence. She was linking arms with the Purser she called "cousin," acting all soft and spoiled. "Cousin, you have no idea how mean she was earlier." "I just asked her to wake up and eat something, and she actually glared at me." "The more she acts like that, the more I want to give her a taste of her own medicine. Let her know the world doesn't revolve around her." Her crisp, smug laughter rang out. I clenched my fists, just about to step forward and confront them, when the next second, my phone buzzed in my pocket with an incoming call. "Sarah, I saw the flight tracker alert. You've landed. Roughly how long until you reach the client's office? They have a project going live at the last minute, so the meeting is being moved up." My hand gripping the phone trembled slightly. I felt like all the energy was being drained from my body. The marble floor beneath my feet seemed to warp and twist. I could barely stand. Hearing my silence, my boss raised his voice. "Sarah, you know how hard we worked to land this client. If it doesn't happen today, who knows when we'll get another chance for a face-to-face meeting." "In-person pitches are infinitely better than Zoom calls. We're at the one-yard line; we just need to push through. Check the traffic. If it's clear, take an Uber. If it's gridlock, take the subway. Just get there as fast as humanly possible." Perhaps sensing he was pushing too hard, my boss paused, offering a carrot after the stick. "Your professional presentation is key. We need to give the client the best possible experience." "Go on, hurry up. Don't waste any time." The strap of my backpack tightened in my grip. I took a deep breath. My mind raced like a film reel, replaying all the blood, sweat, and tears I had poured into this project. My boss was right. We were at the one-yard line. I absolutely could not let a psychotic flight attendant ruin all my hard work. My knuckles turned white as I nodded firmly. For my boss, but more importantly, for myself. "Don't worry, I'm heading there right now." "I will get it done." Thank God for modern convenience. Thank God for technology. I ordered replacement underwear and a blouse via Amazon Same-Day delivery en route to the client's office. It arrived at the front desk right when I did. My hair, smelling faintly of old coffee, was rigorously scrubbed with wet wipes, then pulled back into a sleek, professional updo with a claw clip. All the necessary files were safe on my laptop. Even if the laptop had succumbed to its coffee baptism, I had a backup USB drive and cloud storage ready. When adults go to war, we come prepared for anything. "Sarah, this proposal is excellent. Please make sure you personally oversee the subsequent workflows." "I'll have our legal team send over the contract tonight." Hearing the client's approval, the heavy weight in my chest finally dissipated. I smiled brightly, a genuine smile from the bottom of my heart. Now, it was time to let those flight attendant "sisters" know. The world doesn't revolve around me, but it absolutely, positively does not revolve around them either. 07 After sending the contract to our legal team for review, I moved quickly and took a long, luxurious shower in my hotel bathroom. Smelling pleasantly of body wash, I sat down in front of my laptop. Flight number, ticket receipt, in-flight photos—all compiled. Bold font applied. I was just about to hit "Send" on the email. The next second, a barrage of notifications popped up on my phone. Boss: "Sarah, what's going on? You're trending on Twitter." Best friend: "OMG. Babe, look at this." Colleague: "Queen, you are my eternal idol. Respect." Confused, I clicked on the newest link. In the video, there I was, unmistakably on the plane. The person filming had a decent camera. In the shot, I looked incredibly pathetic. Coffee stains splattered across my forehead, clutching a crumpled wad of tissues I had used to wipe myself, desperately trying to return to my seat while fending off the flight attendant. I was even carefully trying not to rub the stains onto the seats next to me. "Encountered a real-life Bad Luck Bear on a flight today." "She's in both videos, getting hit with a coffee attack twice." "Is [Airline Name] serious right now?" My eyes slowly widened. Didn't they say life isn't a movie, that no one is watching? The comment section was even more interesting. User 1: "Help, my corporate drone soul just died watching this. If I was on a flight, opened my laptop to work, and coffee spilled on my keyboard, I would literally go insane." User 2: "Sus. Normally, flight attendants don't fill cups to the absolute brim, right? And she got spilled on twice in a row? This smells like a staged PR stunt." User 3: "Agreed. Observing quietly. [Image]" ... Caught between laughing and crying, a wave of confusion slowly crept into my mind. It was just a random video of a mishap during a trip. Why was it getting so much traction? In just half a day, the likes had already surpassed fifty thousand. Thinking about this, I clicked on the hashtags below the video. After a careful inspection, I finally found the clue. The person who uploaded the video had intentionally used suggestive tags like "[Airline Name] Flight Attendant" and "Hot Flight Attendant" across multiple platforms to drive engagement. Although their motives were impure, this video was the perfect addition to my complaint evidence. As for whether I was a "Bad Luck Bear," or the comments judging my appearance and demeanor... Whatever. Who cares? It's not like they're paying my salary. I attached the email tracking receipt option and sent it directly to the relevant inbox. I slept soundly that night, dreamless. Thanks to the trending video, the airline's response time was remarkably fast. Early the next morning, my phone rudely interrupted my sleep. "Your lost luggage has been found. Please come to the airport today to claim it." "Friendly reminder: we won't hold it forever~" Listening to the passive-aggressive, snarky tone on the phone... perfect. Exactly what I wanted. "Sure thing, I'll be there today." "I look forward to you handing it to me in person." I wedged the phone against my shoulder and poured the coffee I had prepared in advance into my insulated thermos. Treat others as you wish to be treated. If they wanted to pour, I was more than happy to pour right back.

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