I own an upscale bistro in Portland that I built from the ground up. One Friday night, my brother Mike was bringing his new fiancée, Ashley, to meet me for the first time. Mike was running late, so Ashley arrived at the restaurant alone. I happened to be covering the host stand because our regular hostess was out sick.
Ashley, dressed in a skintight designer dress, took one look at me and immediately assumed I was just a waitress. Without even giving her name for the reservation, she sneered at my professional outfit and high bun. She told me I was “overdressed for restaurant staff” and demanded I change my hair and find someone “less intimidating” to serve them because she didn’t want any distractions for her fiancé.
Instead of getting angry, I smiled and told her I’d get the manager. I went to my office, grabbed my business cards, and returned to her table. When she snapped at me again for being “stubborn,” I handed her my card and purred, “I am the manager. Also, I own this place.” Just then, Mike walked in and gave me a huge hug, introducing me as his sister. Ashley went pale as she realized she’d just insulted her future sister-in-law and the owner of the very restaurant she was sitting in. She later tried to blame her behavior on “trauma” from an ex-boyfriend, but I made it clear that while I’d be civil for Mike’s sake, her cruelty had already spoken volumes.
