In an instant, she pointed her finger at my nose as her face turned red with anger, shouting, “I’m teaching you a lesson! Stop trying to twist my words! I’m not a cheap woman like you!”
“Look at yourself! You didn’t even bother to hide your sanitary pad. You’re just holding it in your hand. Do you have no shame at all?”
“No wonder you drive such an expensive car. Acting like this in front of everyone … what kind of things do you do in private?”
My coworkers started glancing at me with strange looks, whispering among themselves.
“Veronica has a point. Her Ferrari costs more than a million dollars. How could a girl in her twenties afford that?”
When my dad sent me on an unannounced inspection of this branch, I told him I wanted a simpler, more modest car. But he stopped me.
“You should be yourself,” he told me.
“I want you to see not only their work performance but also their morals and values.”
Now that I thought about it, my dad was indeed very smart. Some people couldn’t help themselves when they saw a young woman driving a luxury car and wearing designer clothes. Their jealousy blinded them.