Maya looked at him for several seconds. "A single catering incident," she repeated. Lena's jaw tightened, and one of the remote board members looked away from the screen. Douglas seemed not to notice that his phrase had landed exactly where it would do the most damage.
"Your flight attendant took my coffee from my hand and discarded it," Maya said. "Your crew gave away my confirmed medical meal, offered peanuts after receiving allergy information, and threatened police while I sat in my assigned seat. A nurse had to help me manage symptoms while another passenger supplied juice your crew would not provide. Then your supervisor wrote a report that left those facts out. If that is what you call a small catering incident, it tells me more about your judgment than the check does."
Petra began to speak, but Douglas stopped her. "What do you want?" he asked. Maya did not answer immediately. She looked around at the expensive conference room, the hurriedly assembled executives, and the screen full of people who had watched the company's share price and reputation become a matter of immediate concern. It struck her that an entire organization could mobilize in minutes to protect itself and still struggle for hours to provide a safe meal to one passenger.
"I want the facts preserved," she said. "I want the medical response documented accurately. I want the people who saw it to be heard without intimidation, and I want any public statement to describe the incident without minimizing it. After that, I want you to explain what makes you think Crestline is ready to change anything."
Douglas folded his hands. "We're already investing in change. Tomorrow morning we have a major strategic signing with Williams Meridian Group, an eighty-million-dollar transformation program. It will modernize our complaint systems and help prevent precisely the kind of misunderstanding you experienced."
He gestured toward the financial officer on the screen. "That agreement is an important part of our recovery. We can't allow one regrettable event to derail it."
Maya felt something unexpectedly calm settle over her. Douglas was making the argument she had anticipated, but hearing it aloud was still astonishing. He was explaining to the founder of the company he hoped to hire that the company's most important customer-trust project mattered more than the customer whose trust had been destroyed. He had not asked a single question about Williams Meridian's work beyond the value of the contract. The eighty-million-dollar figure was, to him, a shield against the very behavior the program was supposed to address.
"Tell me something about Williams Meridian," Maya said. Douglas looked surprised. "What would you like to know?"
She kept her expression neutral. "Why did you select them?" He answered with language from the procurement brief: sophisticated analytics, modern reporting, a proven platform, strong institutional expertise. "And what does their program measure?" she asked. "Patterns in customer experience," he replied, glancing briefly toward a board member for confirmation.
Maya nodded. "Does it measure the difference between the original complaint and the way a supervisor rewrites it?" Douglas hesitated. "I believe so." She continued.