Before I get into this story, let me acknowledge the photo I’m posting with it:
A grainy, overly confident pre–Papa John’s shift selfie (an original before we gave it the title) from the MySpace era. The kind of picture you took with a flip phone, added a dramatic angle, and genuinely thought, “Wow, I look amazing.”

But that job gave me one of the earliest leadership lessons that shaped who I am today.

In high school, I worked at Papa John’s, and our regional manager had a reputation for being… intimidating. Tough. Not nice. The kind of leader everyone whispered about and avoided eye contact with.

One morning, our GM and assistant manager walked out. The next day, guess who had to work a whole Saturday morning shift with the “terrifying” regional manager?

Just him. And 16-year-old me.

I was terrified.

It was a slow day, and early on, someone ordered a 16-inch black olive pizza—one of the trickier sized pies to make. He worked the dough station and tossed the dough like a pro. I sauced, cheesed, and olive-sprinkled that masterpiece exactly by the Papa John’s manual.

I put it in the conveyor oven and tried to look busy, folding pizza boxes like my life depended on it. I wanted him to see I was a hard worker.

But then… the pizza came out of the oven—and right onto the floor. I’d completely zoned out and missed it.

Mortified, I told him.

He shrugged: “No worries. I’ll toss another.”

I redeemed myself with Pizza #2… until it also slid out of the oven and splattered across the floor. At this point I was sweating through my uniform. Certain I was about to be fired. Certain the “awful” regional manager was about to reveal the reputation he was known for.

But instead, he calmly tossed a third dough.

On round three, I managed to stay present long enough to catch the pizza, keep it off the floor, and send it on its way with our (very patient) delivery driver.

And then the strangest thing happened. We bonded. We talked. We laughed. He wasn’t mean. He wasn’t harsh. He was supportive, patient, and even kind. Nothing like the stories. He inspired me to want to be a Papa John’s Regional Manager.

At 16, I learned something I still carry with me years later:

Reputations aren’t always what they seem.
Assumptions are lazy.
And people deserve the benefit of the doubt.

I walked into that shift expecting the worst. Instead, I met someone who showed me what grace under pressure looks like—and who unintentionally taught me the kind of leader I wanted to become.

I didn’t end up as a Papa John’s regional manager (plot twist), but that day left a mark.

In a world where rumors spread fast, stereotypes stick, and we form opinions about people we’ve never actually spoken to—it’s a reminder to slow down, reach out, and get to know someone for yourself.

You might be surprised by who they really are.