” Giselle Burke turned her supervisor Ms. Gibson’s words over in her mind as she pushed the room service cart out of the staff elevator and onto the Hotel Beaudelaire’s gold level. “We’re running a hotel, not a charity,” Ms. Gibson had said. Giselle sighed and rounded the corner. She strode toward the long corridor feeling burdened by the sting of yet another reprimand. Having to go immediately from her “chat” with Ms. Gibson up to this particular floor was like a shiv to the gut, but Ms. Gibson couldn’t have known that. She didn’t know anything about Giselle, really, beyond what her employment application stated. To Ms. Gibson, Giselle was likely some lazy, twenty-something Millennial who expected to skirt the rules and never get her hands dirty—that she wanted rewards for doing no work. It wasn’t true. Yeah, Giselle dropped the ball occasionally.
