I didn’t react right away. Instead, I waited a few days, letting the anger settle into something sharper—something controlled. Then I went back to that same store, dressed simply, saying nothing about who I was. I walked around like any regular customer, observing, listening. The same assistant was there, smiling at others, acting completely different from what Emma described. That contrast made everything worse.

When the moment felt right, I approached her. I asked a few questions, kept things polite, even let her help me pick out items. She had no idea who I was or why I was there. And then, calmly, I asked her what qualities she thought someone needed to work in a place like this. Confidence? Appearance? Charm? She listed them all, almost proudly.

That’s when I told her.

Continued on the next page