Don’t Go To Papa John’s And Piss Off Papa John!

I am sixteen, and I’m working at my family’s restaurant. There is a Christmas party group who has booked out the front room. This one old guy keeps complaining every time I bring him food or take the finished plates away.

When dessert comes, he makes a snide comment and I burst into tears. I get back to the kitchen, and my dad sees me crying.

Dad: “What’s wrong?”

Me: “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

Dad: “Was it a customer?”

Me: “…”

Within seconds, my dad storms out of the kitchen and asks the entire front room: 

Dad: “Who made my daughter cry?!” 

The room goes silent, and everyone points out the jerk. 

Dad: “You think you’re tough, eh? Making a child cry? You enjoy doing that?! You’re going now, and you’re not welcome back!” 

Customer: “But she wasn’t doing a good job!” 

Dad: “And you’re not doing a good job as a human, so go f*** yourself.”

I miss working with him!