Like Father, Like Son

"I'm telling you, son, you need to be nicer with the customers!" Dad placed the french fries in the fryer. "Order up, come on."

"Yes, sir?" The son smiled at the customer.

"Yeah, gimme some fish and chips, no sauce." An older gentleman said.

"Sir, the fish is fresh and delicious. But you'll have to wait for the chips, they're frying as we speak."

The man gave a thumbs-up and stepped to the side.

"See dad? I am nice to most people, but that guy had it coming!"

"The business -"

"- the business depends on it, I know. I'm not stupid."

"You have to hold it in, son." Dad sturred the fries with an effortless motion. "There are jerks everywhere in this world. You have to be able to control your emotions. They will always betray you."

The son sighed as another customer arrived.

"I want a tuna sandwich with an extra egg."

"Coming right up ma'am." The son prepared the meal with stark efficiency. "Any toppings, ma'am?"

"Just seasonings."

The son wrapped the sandwich in a paper bag, then in a nylon bag, and exchanged it for the 5$ bill. "Have a good day ma'am!"

"There." The father stirred the fries again. "You need to learn to be courteous like that with the most deplorable customers."

"Yes, Dad."

"Going out back to grab that sack of potatoes."

It was only the old man waiting then, so the son began cleaning the counter. Opening up a fish-themed food truck in this market was a great idea. The father was proud of his son for coming up with it. He was disappointed at the boy's maturity level, but it was to be expected. He will learn.

The son on the other hand felt slighted. That man was not only disrespectful to the business but also to his father. In the eyes of the son, he was defending his father's honor. And instead of gratitude he only received reprimand. What his father was saying was correct. But the boy wasn't a fool. He knew that you had to greet your teeth with some people.

He also knew that if you let people step on you, then they'll squash you like a bug. And they might be a working-class family, but they were no bugs. And he would battle any slights against his father.

But he would try, for father's sake, he would try to get a grip on his emotions.

"Hey, those fries look ready." The old man narrowed his eyes.

"Soon, sir." The son was finishing up his cleaning.

"You didn't even look." The customer pointed at the fryer.

Just then, the father returned with the sack of potatoes. As he set the sack down he removed the fries and placed them in the container.

"Any toppings with your fish and chips, sir?" The son went to scoop up the fries.

"Ah, so now you're looking?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"You know, you blacks always think you're better than the rest of us."

The son reminded himself to breathe. "Sir, there's no need for that language."

"I don't want your food. It's bound to be disgusting. Especially coming from an ugly freak like yourself."

It took every fiber of the son's being to stay quiet. He balled his fists and did just that, however. Soon, the anger dissipated. That is, until his father stepped up beside him.

"What did you say about my son?"

"You heard me!"

"Oh yeah?" The dad grabbed a pan with hot grease inside and threw it at the man's torso. The man yelled out, tossing his shirt and wiping his chest.

"You burned me!"

"Couldn't burn a toddler with that amount. You're fine." The dad scoffed, still holding the pan like a weapon. "Now get out of here."

The old man said some more derogatory things, but he picked up his shirt and promptly left. The son turned to his dad and grinned.

"Don't give me that look!" Dad threatened the son with the pan.

"I didn't say anything!"

"Do as I say! Not as I do!"

With that, the dad left to grab another sack of potatoes. He was furious. All that talk to the boy and for what? He should go easier on the lad, he had his father's temperament after all.

What really angered pops was not the slight to the business, or their culture and race. No. What made him mad was the unnecessary insult to his son. That was uncalled for. An old man, talking down to a young, hard-working boy. Disgraceful.

The father will battle any slights against his son.

This was A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words contest entry.

The prompt image:

Describe what you see: A food truck next to a market.
Describe what you feel: I feel hungry.

Obligatory shout-out to the 🍕PIZZA🍕 gang, 🤙 gang. 🤙

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Cover image source.

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