Restaurant manager pens letter to autistic girl's mum | Adelaide Now -g-icon-error cloudy-day nav_small_right nav_small_right nav_small_right nav_small_right nav_small_right nav_small_right nav_small_right nav_small_right nav_small_right 0A0871E9-1636-49F

"For women and children sitting at table 9, I did not introduce myself to you.
My name is Tony posanski.
I have been a restaurant manager for fifteen years.
My day included making sure my restaurant was running well.
This may mean washing dishes, cooking meals, and sometimes even going to the table.
Every guest complaint you can imagine, I have dealt with it.
You came to my restaurant a few weeks ago.
I was very busy that night.
I help with cooking in the kitchen.
I was asked to speak to a table next to you.
I said, they said your child was very loud.
When I was talking to that table, I heard some shouting.
I heard a big beep from a young girl.
I began to walk to your table.
You know what I'm asking.
You saw me pointing at the table where you were talking.
I walked up to your desk and you looked at me.
You want the first word.
You said . . . . . . "Do you know what it feels like to have an autistic child ? " You are not rude when you ask this question.
In fact, you are very sincere.
Your daughter can't be over five years old.
She was beautiful because I was at the table and she looked scared.
She looks like she's in trouble.
I haven't had much memorable moments as a restaurant manager for 15 years.
I remember some guests getting angry because their burgers weren't what they wanted.
I remember a woman calling the company because she said I gave her regular Coke instead of Diet Coke.
I remember I had to ban people from drinking and I remember I had to tell the table to keep their kids quiet a little bit.
However, I do remember everything about the day my son was born.
I cried when I heard him cry.
I stood there and told him that I would do anything for him and be the best father.
I remember the day my wife and I got married.
I cried and promised to be the best husband.
I remember the day my daughter was born.
I didn't cry that day.
I lost a child two years ago, so I was relieved.
I know what I should say when I walk to your desk.
I should have told you politely, please don't let your daughter shout.
I was going to move you somewhere else.
I should have offended you for not offending you . . . . . . I did not.
I just told you that I hope your meal is fantastic.
I slapped your daughter and then I told you that your meal tonight was ours.
Only $16.
That means more to me.
I don't think the other guests I spoke to were happy with that.
At that moment, it didn't matter to me.
I don't know how you react.
I had to leave to cook because the kitchen was not very good that night.
When the waiter asked me why I wanted to buy the food I just said you didn't like the steak.
I didn't tell anyone what you said to me.
But I thank you very much for saying this to me.
You asked me a question I didn't answer.
In fact, I don't know what it's like to have a child with autism.
I know how it feels to be a father.
I know how it feels to be a husband.
I know how it feels to not tell my wife how much he loves her.
I know what it feels like to spend more time with his kids.
You ask me this question right away.
You have experienced this before in other restaurants.
I don't want to be like any other manager for a moment.
I don't want to tell you what you always hear.
To be honest, I wrote this to you and your beautiful daughter because I wanted to thank you both.
You gave me a great restaurant memory.
One I need in the last 15 years.
You also gave me a valuable lesson . . . . . . Sometimes doing the right thing doesn't make everyone happy;
Only the people who need it most.
In good faith, Tony posanski "Mr. posanski's heartfelt response is far from what some parents of autistic children have endured.
August a after receiving anonymous hatred-
A full letter telling her family to take action against her autistic son who is "loud" and "slow" and leave their neighbors.