"Our standard should be that guests don't insult one another," she said. Her voice carried no anger, which somehow made Remi more furious. "If you want a private room, I'll check availability. But I won't remove him because of what you think his meal or clothing says about him." A companion at Remi's table looked up for the first time. Someone near the bar discreetly raised a phone.
A man in a charcoal suit arrived before Remi could answer. Sola Adeyemi, Meridian's floor manager, had spent the previous hour making certain the wine glasses were aligned and the flowers at the entrance were fresh. He had also spent three days being reminded by senior management that Remi Balogun's party must experience flawless service. Her father, Kunle Balogun, was chief financial officer of the Akinwale Group, the parent company that owned the restaurant. Sola took one look at Remi's face and knew his evening had become dangerous.
"Nkiru, a word," he said. They stepped beside the service station, though Remi could still hear them. "That is Remi Balogun. Her father sits on the group's executive committee." Nkiru glanced toward table twelve. "And that gentleman is a customer who has done nothing wrong." Sola's eyes widened at the answer. "Do you want to lose your position over a bowl of pepper soup?" he whispered.
"Does her father's title change the price of his soup?" Nkiru asked. "Or the rules printed on his receipt?" Sola straightened, his fear turning into irritation. He was a decent enough manager when the room was calm, but fear of powerful people had taught him to confuse obedience with competence. "Don't be clever with me," he said. "Apologize to Miss Balogun, move the guest, and let's end this."
Remi was standing when they returned. "Sola, either she leaves this floor or we do." Her friends looked embarrassed, but none objected. Nkiru felt the eyes of the kitchen staff through the service hatch. The elderly gentleman began reaching for his wallet, as though he could pay and disappear before any further harm was done. Nkiru wanted to tell him to remain seated, but Sola spoke first.
"Nkiru, remove your apron," he said. His voice sounded strange, as though he were hearing himself from a great distance. She looked at him carefully. "Am I being dismissed?" He swallowed. "Suspended, effective immediately. We'll discuss it with human resources tomorrow." Remi sat down again, already satisfied. She reached for her glass without looking at the man whose evening she'd ruined.
Nkiru untied her apron slowly. She folded it over her arm instead of dropping it on the service counter. Three years earlier she had managed a hotel front desk and trained new staff in customer care. She possessed a degree in hospitality management, good references, and more experience than anyone on Meridian's evening floor except Sola himself. She was waiting tables because the last eight months had taken nearly everything from her family: their savings, her husband's job, her mother's trust, and the quiet confidence that hard work would protect them from ruin.