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Imagine going to a crowded restaurant where there’s a line of people waiting for a table. Would you wait your turn or assume that you can cut the line and get the next table?

I sure hope you said wait your turn because everyone over the age of a toddler should know that.

Well, the dad in this story is acting like a toddler because he throws a complete hissy fit when he’s told he can’t cut the line.

What makes it even worse is what he does after he leaves this restaurant.

Keep reading for the whole story.

Awful dad screams at me and staff because he can’t skip line

I was a cashier at a old-school style diner with about 18 booths, 7 tables, a counter that can seat 15. Been working there years.

It’s definitely the kind of place that’s attracted the rougher types in my city, I’ll leave it at that.

Anyway, it’s a Sunday morning around 11, the lunch rush is just started to pile in, all the booths in the restaurant are taken, all the tables in the back are filled, and there’s a line of about 12-15 people literally forming a chain throughout the restaurant, and quite literally blocking nearly every booth in the front half of the restaurant due to the odd, cramped structure of the diner.

I had been in a perfectly pleasant and good mood managing over the counter which is where I mostly tended to, refiling coffees for customers at the counter and greeting customers as they walk in and letting them know there’s a line, incase the line of standing customers literally blocking any arriving customers from being able to make their way through the diner wasn’t clue enough.

One customer didn’t want to wait.

Now I had been talking to a decent customer of mine for just a few seconds, refilling his cup and bringing him his check when an overweight, over-it looking, half-lidded eyed dad with his arms crossed like a toddler and his nappy dreadlocks in my face removes himself from the back of the line and plops himself right in front of my register, not saying anything, just looking mad and ready to pop off.

Seeing as I can spot these car crashes from miles away but I was in a good mood, I cheerily move from the regular I’d been chatting with almost immediately upon Mad Daddy sitting himself near me, and I greet him with my most chipper, authentic, friendly voice.

“Hey, are you guys-” I now noticed the stick of a woman who looked like his battered wife and two small children who were far more polite than either of the parents I would quickly find out all standing begind their pouting witch of a father. “-waiting for a booth, or a table, or are we eating at the counter?” I of course knew a family of four had no intentions of wanting to sit at the counter on a Sunday morning, but I was following the script.

“NO, we don’t wanna eat at no counter, we going to eat at THAT booth right there.” Pouty witch motions with his head toward Booth 5, where a solo elderly woman is just about to pay for her check.

She kept her best customer service smile pasted on her face.

Again, keep in mind every booth in the restaurant is filled (and you can see pretty far back into the restaurant even from the entrance, at least 12 both and 3 tables worth), every table is filled, there’s dozens of people filling up the entire front half of the restaurant waiting for a booth or table as counter has always been “no wait policy” if there’s room.

I can tell Mad Daddy’s having a bad week, but I remain firm and continue having the most singsong, customer-service oriented voice while wasting my energy on smiling and continuing to try to avoid the inevitable.

“Oh, did our host Tommy (my manager, the guy I clearly see at the front of the line sending people to booths and tables up ahead to the back of the restaurant) clear that up for you to sit there?”

I swear to God, I didn’t have even a trace of attitude or condescension or anything in my tone or body language or anthing, unlike this jagoff. But me saying those few words made this dude blow the heck up.

Gosh, this guy is difficult.

“No! Host!? What host!? No one said NUTHING bout no host!”

“Okay, well, yeah, we have a policy here where-”

“I been coming here for years I ain’t never had no host!”

“Well typically when we have a line-“

The answer to his question seems pretty obvious.

“I got to get in line!? I already got out of the line to talk to you, now you tellin me I got to get back in line-”

“Well I noticed you were in the very back, and since I came to you right away, it’s not like anyone’s even gotten ahead of you in line-”

“I don’t know why you talking to me like I’m SLOW.”

I was honestly just strongly enunciating at this point and talking a little slow out of my own disbelief that this witch was actually being that petty.

I love her comeback.

“Because you don’t seem to understand the very simple concepts I’m giving you.”

Dude. No matter what I did, this jerk was determined to whine and complain and throw his aggressiveness at me no matter what.

He ended up staying like 15 minutes shouting at me until I was near threatening to call the police on this freaking chump until my weasel manager at the time gave him our office number, sent him on his way, and the corporate witches gave this jerk a free 50 dollar gift card. While I slaved away at that diner every holiday, every weekened, for pennies.

Get out of the industry while you can.

I hate that corporate gave him a gift card. There’s a line. Wait in it. It’s not that hard. We learn this concept in preschool.

Let’s see how Reddit responded to this story.

Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

If you enjoyed this story, check out this post about a man who gets revenge on his company after they fire him and try to steal his custom program.
This really is astounding.

A manager weighs in.

The customer is not always right. In fact, sometimes the customer is rude and very, very wrong. If managers reward customers for exhibiting bad behavior, it will only encourage them to keep complaining. This is a horrible cycle. Managers, do better.