“Grandpa Insulted by Entitled Parents in His Restaurant — Karma’s Price: 20 Times the Menu”

Entitled Parents Insulted My Grandpa in His Own Restaurant — Karma Made Them Pay for This 20 Times the Menu Price.

A family-run restaurant in a sleepy Spanish village turned became the improbable setting for a clash of cultures. This occurred when an entitled tourist family made an after-hours demand for service. They insulted the elderly proprietor of the restaurant, which was well-known for its cosy atmosphere and traditional fare. But they paid a price for their ignorance of local customs and respect.

Hi to all of you! I would like to tell you a tale about a small, family-owned restaurant in Asturias, Spain. Actually, it’s my grandparents’ home, nestled in a small community of thirty people.

I go there every summer to lend a hand, pick up family recipes, and generally take in the rural way of life. The restaurant is quite quaint and comfortable because it is located directly at the bottom of our house and has been there since 1941.

We really do have a local hangout here. Neighbours will stop by to talk, play cards, and have a glass or two throughout the day. We receive a few people even though we’re a little off the main trail.

This particular summer day ended up being more exciting than normal. Thanks to a family visit that left us feeling like they had no idea how things operate here. Allow me to explain what transpired.

It was one of those busy summer days when everything is perfectly warmed by the sun. And the usual laughter and chitchat filled our modest diner. Most of our regular locals had made themselves comfortable for their long, lazy afternoon hangouts.

There are only eight tables inside our small space, plus a few outdoors for pleasant weather. However, it’s very heartfelt and also functions as a pub, so it’s usually packed.

The place was alive with retirees that afternoon, arguing over cards and drinking wine—a scene out of a movie, usually. My sibling and I were very occupied attending to requests for lunch and drinks from those who were aware of our business hours.

Just as things were beginning to settle down about 4 p.m., we heard a car arrive. This is common as we occasionally get lost travellers. However, what transpired was not at all like our usual welcome to guests.

A family emerged, and it was obvious they were irritated from the start—possibly from navigating our area’s tortuous back roads.

Speaking in loud English, they stormed in, signalling for me to take charge as I tend to the majority of our English-speaking visitors. This is the way it transpired.

The mother waved me over as the door closed behind them, saying quickly, “We need a table, and we’re starving!” Not only did her volume take me by surprise, but so did her demanding tone of voice.

I went up to them, grinning like I was from customer service, and said, “I’m sorry, but the kitchen just closed. Our dinner service is available just until 3 p.m. and again at 7:30 p.m.” That should have settled everything, I hoped; perhaps they might return later?

However, the mother refused to accept it. My grandpa was eating his own late lunch quietly when she gave him a quick glance and yelled, “If the kitchen’s closed, why is he eating?” “Well, he’s the owner, so he kinda eats whenever he wants!” was my lighthearted response.

That was not warmly received. The mother appeared to have bit into a lemon as her face contorted slightly. She shouted without wasting a beat, “Are you giving us a table or not? We’ll also require Wi-Fi.”

In the most diplomatic way I could, I clarified, “The Wi-Fi is only for staff.” It isn’t actually intended for usage by visitors.”

The father became very agitated about this and said, “What the heck?!?” We have paying clients.” Their child became restless, and before I knew it, he was chasing around and causing trouble.

When it became obvious that things were going badly, my grandfather made the decision to intervene.

My grandfather, who has always maintained his composure in the face of chaos, wiped his hands on his apron and went to where the family was sitting.

He requested them to kindly calm down and stop their youngster from running about since it was upsetting the other guests in a forceful but gentle manner.

“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME HOW TO RAISE MY CHILD, YOU DINOSAUR!” was the mother’s stern response. Everyone in the room turned to look at her when she spoke loud enough. The dad got involved and angrily pointed at my grandpa, saying, “DON’T GET CLOSE TO MY CHILD, YOU OLD CREEP!”

For a brief while, the entire eatery was silent. The anxiety in the air was palpable. One of those moments when everything seemed to be in perfect harmony. The other customers, who were locals and knew my grandpa well, watched in shock at the disdainful behaviour directed against someone they held in the highest regard.

Remaining composed, my grandfather only nodded before making his way back to our family across the room. I followed, with a mixture of humiliation and rage. He made the decision at that moment for this family to move out.

He gestured to two men seated at a neighbouring table, who coincidentally were Guardia Civil officers who were off duty, and he softly described the circumstances.

Recognising the need of decorum, the officers got to their feet and went over to the family. They displayed their badges and identified themselves as law enforcement. They stated that the family had to respect the other visitors as well as the norms of the establishment in a firm but kind manner.

Now that they understood how serious things were, the parents reluctantly started packing. However, the cops discovered something more that compounded the family’s problems just as they were ready to leave.

One of the officers peered out the window and observed something as the family grudgingly began to go towards the exit. The family’s vehicle completely blocked the garage of our restaurant because it was parked in front of it. It was very evident that parking was prohibited there—a requirement for entering and leaving our property.

The family was led outside by the cops, who pointed out the infraction. The father attempted to dismiss it, saying they didn’t see the signage and it was only a quick stop. But when the cops began to look over the documentation for their rental automobile and found more inconsistencies, things got really weird.

As the cops carefully explained the repercussions of their conduct, the family’s frustration grew. After taking pictures of the incorrectly parked car, they started to draft a ticket. It turns out that blocking the entry to a private property came with a steep price tag—200 euros, to be exact.

Once inside, the residents murmured to one another, disapproving of the tourists’ actions but yet feeling relieved that justice was being carried out. Meanwhile, my grandfather had gone back to his dinner with a look of subdued satisfaction.

There was a noticeable shift in the restaurant’s atmosphere as the family eventually left. With glasses clinking and laughing resuming, everyone got back to talking to each other. My grandfather lifted his glass to express gratitude to the officers, and they acknowledged him with a nod, their task completed.

Not only had the parents wounded our family’s feelings, but they had also thrown off the harmony in our small town. But ultimately, they paid a heavy price for their lack of understanding and respect. Twenty times the price they would have paid for a lunch.

This incident spread beyond our restaurant’s boundaries. It developed into something of a local folktale, a tale that was told to illustrate the karma that befalls those who disobey the principles that guide our society.

It was about defending one’s dignity and the spirit of our village as a whole, not just about an unpleasant family receiving a punishment.

I don’t aim to paint a negative picture of all tourists from other origins or cultures by telling this anecdote. The majority of our tourists are kind and courteous, ready to explore our culture and take advantage of everything we have to offer.

However, this specific instance was unique. It proved to be a wonderful lesson that respecting people and their customs is universal, regardless of one’s location.
I appreciate each and every one of you reading this. I’m interested in hearing your opinions, so please share if you have any similar experiences! So let’s continue the dialogue and share the values of compassion and respect wherever we are in the world.

You might also love this tale of a waitress who got revenge on a rude customer for someone else if you liked the one about community and support.
Though it has been fictionalised for artistic purposes, this work draws inspiration from actual individuals and events. For reasons of privacy protection and story improvement, names, characters, and details have been changed. Any likeness to real people, alive or dead, or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.

The publisher and author disclaim all liability for any misinterpretation and make no claims on the veracity of the events or character portrayals. The thoughts represented in this story are those of the characters and do not necessarily represent the viewpoints of the author or publisher. The story is offered “as is.”