They Ordered a Black Woman to Give Up Her VIP Seat — Then She Revealed She Owned the Airline...
Chapter 3
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"1A," she had complained to her travel agent, who had assured her it was all taken care of.A lounge attendant, a young woman named Chloe, approached with a nervous smile. "Mrs. Covington, another glass of champagne?""Is it the real champagne, or that dreadful Prosecco you tried to pass off on me last time?" Margaret sneered, not looking up from her phone."The Dom Pérignon, ma'am, as requested.""Fine. And tell the gate agent I want to pre-board. I don't like to mix with the rush.""Of course, Mrs. Covington. We'll call you personally."Chloe scurried away. She hated when Margaret Covington flew; the entire staff did. She was a known tyrant, famous for writing scathing, career-ending reviews if her water wasn't the precise brand of Norwegian spring water she demanded.At the gate, another drama was unfolding.Thomas Brody, a senior flight attendant, was checking his manifest. He was handsome in a sharp, angular way, and he wore his Meridian uniform like a bespoke suit. Thomas was ambitious. He had been with Meridian for four years and was consumed with bitterness: he'd been passed over for a purser (head cabin attendant) position twice. He blamed the company's diversity quotas and soft management. He believed the old way was the best way: cater to the whales, and the rest will follow.He saw Margaret Covington's name on the first-class manifest: 1B. He smiled. He knew her well. She was demanding, yes, but she was also a direct line to the people who mattered. Impress her, and a good word might get back to management. He also saw her husband, Richard Covington, in 1C. Big whales.Then he looked at 1A: Sarah Jones. He'd never heard of her. No status, no special requests—a nobody who probably used points to upgrade.He saw the gate agent, Ben Miller, looking overwhelmed. Ben was new, barely twenty, and one of the good ones: he was patiently explaining to an anxious family that their seats were together, just across the aisle."Ben!" Thomas snapped, striding over. "Stop coddling the economy cattle and focus on the priority line. We're behind schedule.""I was just—" Ben stammered."Do your job," Thomas cut him off. He turned to the first-class line and flashed his brilliant, plastic smile. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We will begin pre-boarding for our first-class cabin momentarily."Serafina, standing near the back of the line, watched this interaction. She knew Thomas's type; they were all over the airline. They saw the uniform not as a symbol of service or safety, but as a sliver of power. They were the ones who believed customer service meant fawning over the rich and ignoring the poor.She typed another note:MA451 – FA name: T. Brody – Arrogant, dismissive of junior staff, creates hostile gate environment.The lounge attendant, Chloe, came bustling through, parting the crowd. "Mrs. Covington, right this way. We'll get you on board before anyone else."