The other waiters and waitresses were all relatives of the boss, or sons of his friends. They all drove Mercedes, Audis, or Volvos, and had portable phones. They were proud like princes, and whatever they did not feel like doing, they called me to do. They insulted me in Cantonese, which I could not understand. They believed I was not qualified to be their equal.
Chinese intellectuals are proud.
Finally one day I could not help pouring out my hardships to my parents. I sent three letters, and in each I became more determined to give up and go home. I knew that was true. I remembered my years at university when he would come to see me every month. He brought my favorite food cooked and packed into bags, and he'd tidy my room for me.