The undercover boss buys a sandwich at his own restaurant and freezes when he hears two cashiers…

Jordan became a millionaire on his own. Over the span of ten years, his restaurant had expanded from a basic food truck to a citywide franchise.

Ellis Eats Diner owner Jordan Ellis emerged from his black SUV on a crisp Monday morning wearing faded jeans, a beat-up hoodie, and a knit cap pulled low over his forehead.

He usually wore good shoes and fitted outfits, but today he appeared to be a typical middle-aged man, possibly even homeless. And the point was precisely that.

Jordan became a millionaire on his own. From a single food truck, his restaurant had grown to become a citywide franchise.

However, complaints from customers about delayed service, unfriendly staff, and even allegations of mistreatment have been mounting recently. The positive five-star evaluations on the internet have given way to scathing critiques.

Jordan chose to visit his own company as a regular customer, something he hadn’t done in years, rather than dispatching corporate spies or adding more cameras.

He decided to create his first location downtown, where his mother used to assist with pie baking. He could feel the morning traffic and pedestrians as he crossed the street.

The air was filled with the aroma of frying bacon. His heart pounded.Services for family care

The diner’s checkerboard floor and red booths remained intact. Not much had changed. However, the faces had.

There were two cashiers behind the counter. One was a slender young lady in a pink apron, scrolling through her phone and noisily chewing gum.

The other had a name tag that read “Denise,” was older, stockier, and had weary eyes. Neither realized he had gone inside.

About thirty seconds passed while he waited attentively. No salutations. Don’t say “Hello, welcome!” Nothing.

“Next!” Denise did not look up as she barked.

Jordan moved forward.
His voice was hushed as he said, “Good morning.”

Denise looked him up and down, at his rumpled sweatshirt and scuffed shoes.
“Yes? What are you looking for?

“A sandwich for breakfast. Cheese, bacon, and egg. And, please, a black coffee.

Denise let out a loud sigh, pressed a couple of keys on the register, and whispered, “Seven fifty.”

From his pocket, Jordan produced a crumpled ten-dollar cash, which he then gave to them. Without saying a word, she grabbed it and tossed the change on the counter.

Jordan took a seat in a corner and watched while drinking coffee. Despite the crowded environment, the workers appeared disinterested and perhaps agitated.

A mother of two young children had to say her order three times. A older citizen who inquired about a senior discount was rudely turned away. A worker swore loudly enough for the kids to hear after dropping a plate.

Jordan was frozen, however, by what he heard next.

“Did you see the guy who ordered the sandwich?” the young cashier behind the counter asked Denise as she leaned over. Smells like he’s been sleeping on the subway.”

Denise laughed.
“You know what I mean? I mistook this place for a restaurant rather than a shelter. I bet he’ll act like he has money and beg for more bacon.

They chuckled.

Jordan’s knuckles became white as his hands tightened around his coffee cup. The fact that his own staff made fun of a customer, particularly one who might be homeless, was more hurtful than the offense itself.

He wanted to help industrious, modest, and struggling people like these. And now they were treated like garbage by his employees.

As he waited for his order, he noticed a man in a construction uniform enter and request a glass of water. “If you’re not buying anything else, don’t hang around here,” Denise replied, casting a scornful glance at him.

Enough.

With his sandwich still in hand, Jordan carefully got up and made his way to the counter.

Sandwich in hand, he came to a stop a few steps away. The construction worker retreated and took a seat in a corner after being taken aback by Denise’s impolite response.

Unaware of the impending storm, the youthful cashier continued to giggle while engrossed in her phone.

Jordan cleared his throat.

Nobody raised their heads.

“Pardon me,” he said more loudly.

After rolling her eyes, Denise gave him a quick look.
“Your receipt has the customer service number if you have a complaint, sir.”

Jordan simply responded, “I don’t need the number.” “I simply have a question. Do you treat all of your clients this way, or just those you believe lack funds?

Denise blinked.
“What?”

Jumping in, the young woman said, “We didn’t do anything wrong—”

“Is everything okay?” Jordan reiterated forcefully. Because you believed I didn’t belong here, you made fun of me. Then you were like a scumbag to a consumer. This club isn’t private. It’s a dining establishment. My eatery.

The two women froze. Denise started to reply, but she didn’t say anything.

After taking off his beanie and hood, he introduced himself as Jordan Ellis. “This place is mine.”

Like a hammer, silence fell. A number of patrons turned to observe. A glimpse of the cook emerged from the kitchen.

“No way,” the young cashier said.

“Yes, without a doubt,” Jordan answered icily. “I used my own hands to construct this place. Here, my mom made pies.

We created this to benefit everyone, including employees, retirees, women with children, and those who are just trying to make ends meet.

You have no say in who is deserving of kindness.Services for family care

Denise’s face turned white. The young cashier’s phone fell.

“Allow me to explain—” Denise began.

Jordan cut in, “No.” “I’ve had enough. The cameras have also done so.

He gestured toward a covert ceiling cam.
“The microphones? Yes, I also work. Every word was noted. Furthermore, this is not the first instance.

That’s when the manager, Ruben, a middle-aged male, showed up. When he saw Jordan, his eyes grew wide.

“Mr. Ellis?

Hello, Jordan said to Ruben. “We must speak.”

Still unable to believe, Ruben nodded.

Jordan looked over to the cashier.
“You’re on suspension. With instant effect. After retraining, Ruben will determine whether or not you come back. I’ll be behind the counter here for the day. Watch me if you want to learn how to handle customers.

Jordan was unmoved by the young woman’s tears.
You don’t cry because you were apprehended. You genuinely regret it, which makes you change.

Jordan put on an apron, poured a new cup of coffee, and gave it to the construction worker as they both walked out with their heads down.

“All right, brother. on the home. And I appreciate your patience.

He seems taken aback.
“You own it?”

Indeed. And I apologize for what transpired. We are not like that.

Jordan served customers one-on-one for the next hour.

He smiled as he welcomed everyone, replenished coffee without being asked, cleaned up napkins from the floor, helped a mother with a tray while her child wailed, joked with the cook, and shook hands with Mrs. Thompson, a regular customer since 2016.Services for family care

“Is that him?” murmured customers. A few people snapped photos. “I wish more bosses did what you’re doing,” remarked an older man.

Jordan went outside for some fresh air about midday. It was a warm, blue sky. With a mixture of pride and disappointment, he gazed at his eatery. The company had expanded, but the values had been forgotten in the process.

However, it is no longer the case.

“New mandatory training: every employee must spend a full shift working with me,” he said in an email to HR after pulling out his phone. No exclusions.

Then he returned inside, straightened his apron, and grinned as he took the next order.