dad

Title: "The Diner’s Legacy" My dad wore his apron like armor. For 20 years, he balanced trays of pancakes and coffee mugs at Maggie’s All-Night Diner, his calloused hands proof of nights spent serving strangers while I scribbled homework in vinyl booths. “Pride isn’t in the job title, Cici,” he’d say, refilling my hot chocolate. “It’s in the doing.” By 18, I’d learned to code between shifts, building apps to streamline diner orders for small businesses. Dad joked I’d inherited his “hustle gene,” but when my software revolutionized inventory systems for restaurants worldwide, the joke became a billion-dollar empire. Today, Forbes calls me “the diner heiress,” but I trace my fortune to the man who taught me grit over silver spoons. Dad still works Fridays at Maggie’s—“Keeps me grounded,” he insists—though now the diner’s neon sign flickers above a foundation feeding thousands, funded by every line of code I write. Wealth, I’ve learned, isn’t zeros in a bank account. It’s the warmth of Dad’s laugh as he serves pie to regulars, knowing his daughter turned his lessons into a legacy.