You paid for the oceanfront luxury, the room service, the view—and still, you’re not welcome at the table. my man and i enjoy a decadent meal, savoring every bite while you sit there, quiet and left out. you don’t get a seat… but i do let you have the scraps. after i’ve ground them into the floor with my filthy feet. that’s your role: financing our pleasure and begging for leftovers. watch closely. this is what it means to truly serve.