Let Them Eat Scraps

My boss, Howard, was notoriously cheap, but he was also incredibly vain. It was a volatile combination.

When he walked into the bullpen on a Tuesday morning and announced, Why does Mothers Day get all the hype while Fathers Day gets ignored? Ive decided to take every single employees dad out for a lavish dinner, I knew my week was ruined.

Sure enough, every venue I suggested over the next few days was either "too trashy" or "too expensive." He wanted five-star prestige on a fast-food budget.

By the time I printed out my hundred-and-fifth venue proposal, Amber, our newly hired purchasing assistant, snatched the folder right out of my hands. She rolled her eyes so hard I thought theyd get stuck in her head.

"Fiona," she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetner, "for an executive assistant, you really don't know how to budget. Do you think Howards money grows on trees?"

I crossed my arms, fighting the urge to grit my teeth. "If youre so brilliant, Amber, whats your grand plan?"

That was exactly what she was waiting for. She smirked, practically preening in front of the entire office. "I have a connection. All-you-can-eat high-end seafood. A private tasting menu at an exclusive spot. And it only costs this much per person."

She held up two fingers.

Howards eyebrows knitted together. "Two hundred?"

Amber tilted her chin up proudly. "A full seafood tasting menu. Twenty dollars a head. All-you-can-eat."

The fleshy muscles of Howards face twitched. I could practically see the gears turning in his head; he was utterly transfixed by the price tag.

But his paranoia kicked in. "Its not some sketchy food truck, is it?"

Amber held her head high. "A premier, white-tablecloth establishment."

"Is the seafood actually fresh?" Howard pressed, leaning over his desk.

Amber wagged her index finger with practiced confidence. "We get the exact same plates as their regular VIP clientele. Fresh off the boat. Its an exclusive, back-door arrangement I set up."

Howard practically leaped out of his leather chair, rubbing his hands together with a greedy, manic glee. "Why didn't I know we had this kind of talent in the department?"

Amber flushed, looking demure, though she didnt miss the chance to throw me under the bus. "Well, Fionas always locked down the corporate dining arrangements. I never really had a position where I could show what I could do."

My jaw tightened. I took a slow, deep breath to keep from snapping.

Howard glared at me, the ghost of past corporate credit card bills clearly flashing before his eyes. He turned his gaze to me, cold and accusatory. "Fiona, I won't look too closely at your past bookings, but going forward, all corporate events go through Amber."

My hands balled into fists in my pockets. "Look closely at my past bookings?" He was heavily implying Id been taking kickbacks. It was insulting. Every single dinner, every single client lunch Id booked had been scraped down to the absolute lowest budget hed approve, negotiated through sheer persistence on my part. If I hadn't fought tooth and nail to keep us within a respectable price range, he would have been laughed out of every restaurant in the city.

I swallowed my urge to warn him. If he wanted to step off a cliff, Id gladly step aside.

"Of course," I said, offering a tight, pleasant smile. "Im sure Amber will do a wonderful job. I'd be happy to hand it over."

I wanted nothing more than to hand off this toxic, thankless task anyway.

Amber beamed, her ego inflating by the second. "Don't worry, Howard. Ive got the connections. Leave it all to me."

Howard patted her shoulder, looking at her as if she were a long-lost daughter. "We need to give our younger generation more opportunities. Too many people in this company think their seniority gives them a free pass to gatekeep and take advantage."

The words felt like a slap, but I kept my smile perfectly plastered on my face. Let the fool have his moment. I couldn't wait to see what kind of five-star establishment offered a twenty-dollar seafood tasting menu.

When Amber and I stepped out of the office, her smug, self-satisfied grin was impossible to ignore.

"Im so sorry, Fiona," she whispered, leaning in close. "I didn't mean to steal your job. I just hope Howard isn't too disappointed in you. It really wasn't personal."

I didn't even bother giving her a glance. I turned on my heel and walked back to my desk.

But Amber wasn't the type to let things go. A few days later, she marched over to my cubicle, flanked by a small army of our colleagues.

The first words out of their mouths made me think I was hallucinating from exhaustion.

"Fiona, we need you to refund us," Courtney, Ambers closest sycophant, demanded.

I blinked, taking off my blue-light glasses. "Refund you for what?"

I quickly scanned my memory, certain Howard hadn't authorized any employee payouts recently.

Before I could say more, Courtney stepped forward, pointing a manicured finger directly in my face. "We trusted you! Whenever we did group dinners, we let you organize them. You charged us eighty dollars a head! And heres Amber, getting us into a luxury venue for twenty. You should be ashamed of yourself for stealing from us!"

My face went cold. "Courtney, watch your mouth."

Someone in the back, sensing the sudden drop in temperature, pulled at Courtney's sleeve. "Maybe there's a misunderstanding..."

"What misunderstanding?" Courtney scoffed, crossing her arms. "She was clearly skimming off the top. Stealing from the company is one thing, but ripping off your own coworkers? That's just pathetic."

I stood up slowly, tapping Courtneys hand away from my face. "You want to talk about evidence, Courtney? I keep every single receipt and invoice from our dinners. If you want to throw around accusations of embezzlement, Ill happily let my lawyer handle it. We can go to court for defamation."

Courtneys bravado faltered. She swallowed hard, casting a panicked glance at Amber.

Amber quickly stepped in, waving her hands placatingly. "Oh, come on, lets not get defensive. I only got that price because Im close with the restaurants management. Fiona just doesn't have those kinds of high-level connections, that's all. It's not her fault."

One of the designers immediately chimed in, eager to flatter. "Wait, high-level? Is the restaurant owned by your family?"

Amber didn't deny it, nor did she confirm it. She just lowered her eyes, blushing coyly. "Oh, please don't ask. My family wants me to keep a low profile while I learn the business."

Instantly, the atmosphere shifted. The crowd looked at Amber as if she were an undercover heiress, a girl from "old money" playing at being a commoner. Meanwhile, they looked at me like I was a parasite.

"Some people just shouldn't take on roles they aren't qualified for," Rhonda muttered. Rhonda was a senior sales rep who always managed to pack away three boxes of leftovers at every company event. "If you can't get us a discount, don't play coordinator and waste our money."

"Exactly. She probably did it for the kickbacks."

"Well, how else do you think she affords those designer bags?"

I tapped my desk loudly with a pen, my voice cutting through their murmurs like ice. "If you have proof of any wrongdoing, take it to HR. Otherwise, get back to work."

They slowly dispersed, throwing dirty looks over their shoulders.

I sat back down, staring at the screen. The sting of their betrayal was sharp, but it brought a strange, cold clarity. I had spent years helping these people, picking out restaurants that met their dietary restrictions, fighting with vendors to get them free drinks, and even covering their shares when they "forgot" to Venmo me. And this was what it got me.

I opened a blank document, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I didn't want to be in this swamp anymore. I typed out my resignation letter, one precise word at a time.

Just as I was about to hit send, a notification popped up. Amber had posted in the company group chat.

The chat erupted instantly.

"Amber: The venue for our Father's Day dinner is confirmed: The Gilded Peony."

She posted the address and a link to the website. The office went dead silent for three seconds before everyone started screaming.

"Courtney: Are you serious?! The Gilded Peony is the most famous luxury seafood restaurant in the city! My moms birthday dinner there cost us over fifteen hundred dollars!"

Howard, who spent half his day browsing golf forums, immediately chimed in.

"Howard: Is it really twenty dollars a head?"

"Amber: Guaranteed, Howard. Ive spoken with my contact. As soon as we arrive, theyll run the special rate."

"Howard: What about the menu? We need to make sure they aren't cutting corners."

Before Amber could reply, Courtney jumped in.

"Courtney: Howard, a tasting menu doesn't have a set menu! That's the whole point of omakase. They serve whatever is freshest that day!"

"Howard: Right, right. My mistake. This is a fantastic perk for our team. Amber, youve done an incredible job."

I stared at the screen, a dry laugh escaping my throat. I couldn't resist throwing a wet blanket over their parade.

"Fiona: The Gilded Peony is a traditional, high-end French-Asian fusion restaurant. They don't offer 'omakase' or any form of unlimited tasting menus."

A plate of roasted asparagus there cost forty dollars. The idea of a twenty-dollar all-you-can-eat seafood menu was so utterly absurd that a child could see through it. But these people were blinded by their own greed.

The group chat went quiet.

A minute later, Amber replied.

"Amber: Well, of course the public doesn't know about it. Its an off-menu, VIP-only privilege. My contact arranged it specifically for us."

Immediately, a flood of thumbs-up emojis and flattering comments drowned out my message. They called Amber a saint, a savior, a true leader.

Howard was so thrilled by the prospect of saving thousands of dollars while looking like a philanthropist that his greed grew wings.

"Howard: Amber, can we add more people? Id love to invite our top suppliers and clients. At twenty dollars a head, it's a steal."

He didn't even realize how pathetic he sounded, practically begging an entry-level assistant for permission.

"Amber: The more the merrier! Just give me the head count."

By the end of the day, Howard had invited extended family, golf buddies, suppliers, and clients. The guest list swelled to one hundred and fifty people. Fifteen tables.

"Howard: Are you sure this isn't too much trouble for your family's restaurant?"

"Amber: Not at all. Honestly, the more people we have, the better."

I shut down my laptop. I couldn't wait for Father's Day.

When I walked into Howard's office to hand in my resignation, his reaction was exactly as petty as I expected. He signed it without looking up, throwing a sneer my way.

"Youve been here five years, Fiona," he said, tossing his pen onto the desk. "But honestly, what have you actually contributed? Your salary is way above the market rate, yet youve brought in less value than Amber has in her first month."

The anger flared in my chest, hot and sharp, but I forced my hands to remain steady at my sides.

"Howard, my performance reviews are on file," I said, my voice quiet and even. "Every contract Ive managed has been flawless. If my work were truly that subpar, a man as budget-conscious as you wouldn't have kept me on for five years, let alone given me raises."

His face flushed a deep, ugly purple. He pointed a finger at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"I have work to finish," I said, turning toward the door. "Have a good afternoon."

That afternoon, Howard pinned a message to the top of the company chat.

First, Amber was promoted to Executive Assistant.

Second, any employee who had submitted their resignation would be excluded from the Father's Day banquet.

I was the only one who had resigned.

The chat flooded with cheers.

"Courtney: Amber deserves it! Finally, someone with real class in that seat."

"Rhonda: Support the boss! Leeches who quit shouldn't get to enjoy our company perks anyway."

I stood up, walked over to Courtney and Rhondas desks, and pulled up my Venmo QR code on my phone.

"You still owe me for the last three group lunches," I said, my voice carrying across the quiet room. "Pay up."

Their faces turned bright red. Courtney sputtered, "II don't have my card linked right now"

"Ill wait," I said. "I also posted the itemized receipts in the group chat, just so everyone can see the exact math."

Reluctantly, they scanned the code and sent the money. I walked out of the office that evening with my head held high.

I had already called The Gilded Peony. I had asked to confirm a reservation for a party of one hundred and fifty under our company name.

The hostess had paused, checked her system, and told me there was no such booking.

So, where on earth was Amber planning to put fifteen tables of hungry people?

"""

Father's Day arrived, hot and bright. I decided to treat my parents to a nice lunch at The Gilded Peony.

We arrived early. I checked the elegant, gold-trimmed reservation board in the lobby. There was no mention of our company. Every private dining room was booked under names like "The Vanderbilt Gala" or "Dr. Henderson."

The main dining room downstairs was pristine, with white tablecloths and heavy crystal. A hostess with sharp, drooping eyes led my parents and me up the spiral staircase to the second-floor mezzanine.

"I'm sorry," she said when I glanced at the empty tables downstairs. "Those tables are reserved."

I counted them. Exactly fifteen tables. But they weren't grouped together; they were scattered randomly across the floor, mixed in with other dining parties, and there were no company signs on any of them.

We took our seats. Ten minutes later, I saw Howard, Amber, and a massive crowd of one hundred and fifty people stream through the front doors.

My fork nearly slipped from my fingers. They actually made it? Did Amber actually have a connection?

Howard looked around the grand dining room, his chest puffed out, but his smile faltered when he saw the setup.

"Amber," I heard him call out, his voice carrying up to the mezzanine. "Why are we in the main room? Why aren't we in a private hall? And why are our tables scattered like this?"

Amber quickly stepped in, her tone smooth. "Theyre incredibly busy today, Howard. This was the only way they could accommodate a party of our size on short notice. Its a miracle we got in at all."

Howards tension dissolved. "Right, right. Of course. Its all Fiona's fault for leaving us in a bind."

The surrounding colleagues murmured their agreement.

Once everyone was seated, Howards son, Tylera bloated, obnoxious twelve-year-old who wore a designer belt that was stretched to its limitbegan banging his spoon against the crystal water glass.

"Dad! I want lobster! I want the big crab!"

"Amber," Howard said, waving a hand. "Lets get some food out here. Everyones hungry."

Rhonda agreed, rubbing her stomach. "Yes, my dad and I skipped breakfast just for this!"

Ambers sweet demeanor suddenly vanished. She turned on them, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Are you guys starving or something? Stop rushing me!"

The table went silent. They were too intimidated by her supposed "heiress" status to talk back.

Thirty minutes passed. Our appetizers arrivedbeautifully plated oysters and tuna tartare. Downstairs, however, the fifteen tables remained completely empty. No water, no bread, no menus.

Howard was sweating through his suit jacket. He kept looking around, his eyes darting to the other tables where wealthy families were enjoying their meals.

Finally, Amber stood up. Howard and the others let out a collective sigh of relief, assuming she was finally going to the kitchen to demand their food.

But what she did next was something none of us could have ever anticipated.