One of the businessmen lowered his eyes.
Naomi felt something tighten inside her chest.
She had heard insults before.
Customers had called her slow.
Someone had once told her she was too quiet to work in a professional restaurant.
Another customer had asked whether she had “really” graduated from college.
She had been asked if she knew how expensive the restaurant was.
Once, a man had looked directly at her and said, “People like you should be grateful to have a job.”
Naomi had learned to absorb those comments.
Not because they didn't hurt.
Because reacting to every insult would have exhausted her.
“I've been taking care of your table all evening,” she said.
“And I appreciate your effort.”
Victor's tone made it clear that he appreciated nothing.
“But I need someone educated.”
Naomi looked at him.
“I graduated from Stanford.”
Victor laughed.
It wasn't a friendly laugh.
It was dismissive.
“Sure you did.”
Naomi's fingers tightened around the order pad.
“I did.”
Victor turned toward his guests.