Steven observed his 17-year-old son Andrew walking toward the gate, a designer backpack slung over one shoulder. This marked the start of a new chapter—boarding school. Steven’s wife stood beside him, visibly anxious.
“Will he be alright?” she asked quietly.
Steven replied calmly, “He will be fine. That school isn’t about comfort—it’s about growth. He needs to learn respect.”
Months passed, and Andrew showed no signs of change. Boarding school was tough—no luxuries, no special treatment, no one to cater to him. When he finally boarded a flight home, bitterness clung to every step.
Walking down the plane aisle, his entitled attitude resurfaced. He noticed a flight attendant, a polite redhead with freckles, and sneered.
“Hey, you,” he snapped, tossing a bag of peanuts. “You can do better than this, right?”
The attendant flinched. “Please don’t throw things, sir.”
“I’ll do what I want,” Andrew said arrogantly. “You’re just here to serve.”
Nearby passengers began to watch. An older man seated next to Andrew leaned toward him. “Young man, respect costs nothing.”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Still waiting on my snack.”
When the attendant brought pretzels, Andrew knocked them from her hand.
“I said real food!”
The cabin fell silent. The attendant looked humiliated. A woman across the aisle whispered fiercely, “You don’t speak to people like that.”
“She’s just bad at her job,” Andrew muttered.
The man beside him shook his head. “This kid needs a lesson.”
Then a strong, familiar voice interrupted.
“I agree.”
Andrew turned, heart sinking.
“Dad?”
Steven stood in the aisle, imposing.
“I took a connecting flight. Wanted to surprise you,” he said coldly. “What I saw was unacceptable.”
Andrew tried to excuse himself.
“No more excuses. Apologize. To her. To everyone.”
Blushing, Andrew muttered a weak apology. Steven wasn’t done.
At home, in his office, Steven laid down the rules.
“No more boarding school. You’ll attend public school. And over the break, you’ll work.”
Andrew’s face lit up. “At your company?”
Steven’s gaze hardened. “No. At the airport. As a janitor. No car, no phone, no money.”
The next day, Andrew showed up in janitor’s clothes. His supervisor, a strict woman in her sixties, showed no favoritism.
“You’re not special here. Get to work.”
He mopped, scrubbed, and followed orders. But things got worse.
While emptying trash, someone threw a burger wrapper at him.
“Hey!” Andrew shouted.
The man ignored him.
Andrew grabbed his arm. “I’m talking to you!”
The man shoved him. “Back off, janitor.”
Andrew hit the floor. Another traveler kicked his foot.
“Move, lazy bum. Sleeping on the job?”
At that moment, Andrew understood.
What it meant to be looked down upon.
Later, dragging a trash bag, he saw her—the same flight attendant he’d insulted.
She froze.
“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes downcast. “You didn’t deserve that. I was wrong.”
Her surprise turned to a gentle smile. “It takes courage to admit that.”
For the first time, Andrew felt something new—humility. Maybe even respect.
Or maybe, this was just the start of becoming the man his father always wanted him to be.