Daddy Doesn’t Brat An Eyelid

(While working at the cafe, I am wearing a cream-coloured top done up at the front with a ribbon. A father and daughter (who only looks to be around seven) sit next to the table I am cleaning.)

Daughter: “Daddy! I want to be like her! So skinny!”

(I’m a size 12, and the top is definitely showing what little curves I have.)

Father: “Uh-huh…”

Daughter: “But I hate that top! Such a horrid colour! Miss, why are you working with such a horrible top on?”

Me: “Well, uh… I rather like this top. It keeps me cool in the warm weather.”

(At this point, I go to take some plates in. When I come back to wipe the table down, the daughter has a ketchup bottle in her hand.)

Daughter: “You know, I was thinking: that top would look better in red, miss. Let me change it for you!”

Me: “I’d rather you didn’t!”

(The daughter gets up with the ketchup in her hand, and eyes my top threateningly as I pull away from the table as quickly as I can.)

Daughter: “But daddy ALWAYS lets me do what I want! You have to do so, too!”

Me: “Erh… sir, please tell your daughter to calm down.”

Father: “Don’t you DARE tell me how to raise my daughter. Some slutty waitress like you… I bet you have kids with no father in sight!”

(Thankfully, my manager intervened at that point and escorted the father and daughter out!)