By Andrew Hoxha 
“Will he be okay?”
Steven watched his 17-year-old son walk toward the airport gate with his overstuffed designer backpack slung over one shoulder.
“He’ll be fine,” Steven said quietly.
“I just… I hope this school humbles him,” his wife murmured. “He’s never been to boarding school.”
“That’s exactly the point.” Steven’s jaw tightened. “Andrew needs to learn what respect means. Especially after the way he treats people.”
Months passed. Andrew didn’t enjoy a single second of boarding school. No private chef. No luxury car. No high-speed gaming setup. He counted the days until the holiday break when he could go back to his old life.
When he finally boarded the flight home, he strutted down the aisle like he owned the plane.
“Hey, you,” he snapped at a nearby flight attendant, a freckled redhead with a polite smile.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“You can start by getting me something better than peanuts.” He tossed the bag of peanuts at her chest.
The smile on her face faltered. “Please don’t throw things at me, sir.”
“I’ll do what I want,” Andrew said. “You’re here to serve, so stop whining and get moving.”
The older gentleman seated beside him turned with a frown.
“Young man,” he said sternly, “just because someone is in service doesn’t mean they’re beneath you.”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “I’m still waiting on my snack.”
The flight attendant walked away with a lowered gaze.
When she returned moments later with pretzels, he swatted them out of her hand. “I said I wanted a real snack!”
The pretzels scattered across the floor. The flight attendant froze, her eyes wide, humiliated. A woman across the aisle reached out and pulled her gently away.
“How dare you speak to her that way,” she snapped at Andrew.
“She’s just bad at her job,” Andrew muttered. “She’s a bad servant.”
The flight attendant’s eyes brimmed with tears. The cabin had gone silent, everyone watching.
The elderly man beside Andrew muttered, “What that boy needs is a lesson he’ll never forget.”
And he was about to get one.
“I agree,” said a deep, familiar voice from behind.
Andrew turned—and his stomach dropped.
“Dad?”
Steven stood towering over him, his expression stony.
“I was on a connecting flight back from a business trip. I thought we’d fly together as a surprise.” He took a breath, barely containing his anger. “But what I saw was unacceptable.”
Andrew paled. “I was just—”
“No. Enough excuses. Apologize. To her. To everyone who had to witness your behavior.”
Swallowing his pride, Andrew mumbled an apology. It was weak, but Steven accepted it for the moment.
When they arrived home, Steven didn’t speak a word during the ride. Not until they were behind the heavy oak door of his office.
“This ends now.”
Andrew sank into the leather chair across from his father’s desk.
“You’ve humiliated our family,” Steven began. “I thought the school would straighten you out. I was wrong.”
“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Andrew scoffed. “She’s just a flight attendant.”
Steven’s expression darkened.
“That’s your problem. You think people are less than you because of what they do. You think money makes you better.” He stood. “That ends now.”
Andrew sat up. “What do you mean?”
“No more private school. You’ll finish your education at public school. And you’ll spend your vacation working.”
“Working?” Andrew blinked. “At your company?”
Steven let out a short laugh. “No. You’ll be working for my janitorial branch. At the airport. As a janitor.”
Andrew looked horrified.
“No phone. No car. No spending money. No designer clothes. You start tomorrow.”
The next day, Andrew reported for work wearing a plain uniform and rubber gloves. His supervisor, a tough woman in her sixties, didn’t cut him any slack.
“You’re the boss’s kid?” she asked with a smirk. “Well, the floors won’t clean themselves. Get to it.”
Andrew fumbled through mopping and sweeping. At one point, she had to redo his entire section. “You’re not special here,” she said flatly. “Remember that.”
Then, as Andrew bent to empty a trash can, an empty burger box hit him in the face.
“Hey!” he shouted.
The man who’d thrown it didn’t even look back. Andrew chased him down and grabbed his arm.
“I’m talking to you!”
The man shoved him so hard he hit the floor. “Get your filthy hands off me, janitor.”
Andrew lay stunned, ignored, his pride bruised. Then a woman brushed past, kicking his foot.
“Get out of the way, lazy bum,” she said, grinning cruelly. “Sleeping on the job? I’ll report you.”
That’s when it hit him.
This is what it felt like.
To be invisible. To be talked down to. To be treated like nothing.
Later, while dragging a bag of garbage down the concourse, he spotted her.
The same flight attendant—kind, freckled, gentle.
He approached her slowly, head lowered.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly. I treated you horribly, and you didn’t deserve that. I was awful.”
She blinked, surprised. Then smiled softly.
“I’m glad you’ve learned,” she said. “It takes real strength to admit you were wrong.”
And for the first time in a long time, Andrew felt something stir in his chest.
Maybe it was respect.
Or maybe it was the beginning of becoming the man his father hoped he could be.