Don’t Say You Know The Owner When You Don’t
“I waited tables at a posh restaurant for about two years on and off. I had a customer come in one day with the order, ‘I want a medium rare steak, but I don’t want to see a single drop of blood!’
I went to the kitchen and told them to do that. The chef literally threw a frying pan at my head, told me to get lost and come back with a real order. I went back out and told said customer how that’s impossible. The customer starts arguing, getting more and more aggressive. He calls me a total moron. He says how he’s glad his kids (sitting there) study so hard, so they won’t end up like me. He tells me he won’t speak with me anymore, so I should get the owner, because he ‘knows her well’ and I’m gonna ‘get my butt chewed’. I just say, ‘Alright sir, whatever you say,’ and I walk to the office, open the door and just go ‘Mum, one of your nasty friends is here to make a complaint about me’.
Mum goes out, says hello, and asks what the problem is. The customer has about a hundred complaints about me not being able to fulfil his stupid request. She turns to me and goes, ‘Is this true?’ and all I said was, ‘Sure, mum. A med rare steak with no blood. I’m not even a chef, and even I can tell you only a total moron would make an order like that.’
The second the customer heard me call her mum, his face went paper white and he changed his tone. he admitted he was being unreasonable but said he wasn’t at fault.”
Lobster-mania
“I work at a pretty high-class seafood restaurant in Rhode Island, and one evening, I had a table of people that I assume were not from around there, considering their heavy accents. I went to clear their table, and all of them had some form of a lobster dish. One of these men complained that the lobster was not fresh and was frozen. I politely informed him that our lobster that we served to him was never frozen. He was very adamant that he was the correct one, as he was clearly the biggest lobster expert to ever walk int our doors. So I said sorry and walked off, and I passed my manager and mentioned it to him. My manager simply said, ‘Go back to that table and tell them we have 250 pounds of fresh lobster every day, and they can sort through it if they want to be sure!’
So I went back and told them again, politely, and once again the gentleman was still convinced the lobster was frozen. One more time I told my boss, and he just stormed off to come back five minutes later, with a cardboard box full of live lobster. With an angry gleam in his eye, he told me, ‘Go show those losers.’
One last time, I walked out to them and set down a box full of ten or so lobsters and said, ‘See? Fresh!’
And the guy’s dumbstruck face was so satisfying. The tip? Not quite so satisfying.”
Another Lobster Lunatic
“My very first job, when I was sixteen, was as a server in a very small very high-end lunch restaurant in a very wealthy seaside resort. Actually, scratch that, I was the only server. The place was so small that you could only really fit a couple of employees inside the back area, but we still had like twenty outdoor tables. One day, we got slammed at lunch and sold out of pretty much everything. Our chef was trying his best to make do, but there wasn’t much he could really create. We called the owner, but he told us to keep seating people. What an idiot. So I sat a snooty looking older couple from somewhere in the Deep South, judging by their accents. She wanted a lobster roll. I explained that we were sold out of a lot of stuff, including lobster rolls. She fussed but eventually made a decision. I tried to process her order, but as our chef went to grab what he needed, he realized we couldn’t fill the order. I go back out to their table to let her know I can’t fill her order, and I offer a special instead. Our chef was awesome and he could come up with amazing meals out of nothing, and he had come up with like a seafood paella he could throw together for her. As I leave her for a moment to consider her decision and see another table that is trying to flag me down, she straight up screams at me, ‘DON’T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME!’
I was stunned, and the whole deck area looked at her awkwardly. I apologized and told her I would be with her in a moment, but she didn’t take kindly to that and began to insult my intelligence. She kept asking me what on earth was wrong with me, those kinds of insults. She was red in the face. Her husband looked really embarrassed. At this point, I had been working for about three weeks without a day off, for seven days a week, ten hours a day. I was saving for university and was getting concerned about burning out. I kinda snapped. I first let out a burst of hysterical laughter, and then just started sobbing. But I was sobbing and laughing hysterically at the same time. I took my apron off and threw it at her, stormed inside, still hysterical and grabbed a smoke from the chef, walked back out onto the deck, and lit it. And I just sat at the bottom of the steps, crying. Another customer sat beside me and told me not to worry about awful customers. She told me she had been a server for years and she knew how I felt, which was really nice. All the customers on the deck were looking at me having a breakdown, it was so awful. The chef had followed me out to see what was going on. He was livid at the customer who had screamed at me, and asked the couple to leave, saying something like, ‘She’s SIXTEEN! She’s busting her butt off for you people!’
They left embarrassed, and they were not allowed to return. We stopped seating customers for the afternoon after that, closed up, and the chef and I drank a box of bubbly and smoked all evening instead.”
Valentine’s Dud
“I worked at a high-end steakhouse during college. To paint a little picture, women’s uniforms consisted of two-inch heels, fish net stockings, and a black skirt. It tried to take to the ‘jazz’ aspect of the restaurant, since there was a live jazz band there every night. It’s actually a part of a pretty major steakhouse restaurant chain, super high end dining, with an average of $90 per plate. On Valentine’s Day, we would always get swamped. Usually they would overstaff the servers, just to make sure we had enough coverage on the floor. This is all well and good, but that means smaller sections, and I have to turn and burn these tables fast in order to have a good night of tips. I had a couple who was clearly on edge the entire dinner, and the husband would take it out on me every time I approached the table. He would criticize things I would say, and he had a problem with simple questions I would ask. He even mocked me a few times. Total loser. They ended up staying twenty minutes after I dropped off their check, which is just a terrible move on top of everything, being that it’s one of the busiest nights of the year in the restaurant business. The wife just kept looking over at me and apologizing. In the end, they left a 20% tip, but I’ll never forget the absolute disrespect I experienced with that table. I think about it, years later from time to time, and I just tell myself I’ll never treat a human being that way. It doesn’t matter who they are or what role they are in. The guy felt that because I was a young girl dressed all up serving him expensive steaks, he could treat me however he wanted. Forget that guy. If you’ve worked in the restaurant business, you could understand how incredibly frustrating it is. Just by them taking the twenty extra minutes could cost me serious money on a night like that. And they did. Especially when the guy was being so mean about it. If people are nice, I never minded them hanging out for a little.”
One Great Comeback
“I have waited tables before, but never anywhere snooty enough to qualify for this thread. I DO have a story though. I started dating a woman who was born into wealth, after I was recently out of school. I would somewhat regularly go to eat with her family. I had gotten to know her pretty well before getting to know the family, as is pretty common. I had never once seen her talk down to servers or service. She could be judgmental on the quality of food, but that was about it. Her parents and her youngest brother were absolutely some of the worst people I had met, with regard to treating people in the service industry with respect. Her father would snap his fingers at people and wave across the room. He would often get upset if the server in question did not immediately drop what they were doing and attend to his needs. Her mother was the kind of person who simply set herself apart from anyone else in the world who did not meet her standards. ‘These people’ was a common phrase heard from her in almost any given situation where ‘lower class’ people could be judged. Her brother would often mirror the mother’s behavior. He seemed to set himself apart from most people. He seemed to enjoy making remarks that he probably would not consider cutting or offensive, in order to boost his own ego.
How the girl I dated didn’t adopt any of this behavior is still a wonder to me. I have a bunch of stories actually from ‘fine’ dining with these folk, but this was my favorite. We got invited to join the family to go eat at this posh steakhouse. Real fancy joint. We get there and the mom is already whining about some other table that is seated next to us. Keep in mind this place has probably an 8-foot gap between tables, so we are not packed in. We sit and they bring water and bread to try out. The dad is snapping his fingers about two minutes in at the poor unsuspecting bus boy, who comes over.
‘Where is our server?’
‘I don’t know sir, let me find out.’
‘YOU DON’T KNOW?!’ The dad’s spluttering and harrumphing commences. The poor, unsuspecting bus boy scurries off to find our server. Two minutes pass. Probably less. Server arrives.
The unsuspecting, soft-spoken waitress said, ‘Good evening my na-‘
‘Where have you been? We having been waiting twenty minutes!’
‘I am very sorry for the wait, may I-‘
‘We are also very sorry!’ says the mom in very sharp tone.
Orders are taken. I am just stoked to be there, but this was actually one of the first times I really experienced this with her family. I happily sip my expensive drink and make small talk with everyone, kinda feeling like I am being grilled over high heat. Her family never really approved of me either, but that is a whole different story. The mom proceeds to engage her son in banter about how it’s amazing the people here keep their jobs. How stupid they are. How none of them were properly educated. She seemed to enjoy trying to repeat this every time our server was on the way to the table or at the table. Well appetizers were finally served and we ate. More talk. We wait for the main course. The mom starts up with the talk again. Server brings main courses. Mom starts talking to the brother about how, ‘Its amazing that they keep hiring such dumb people to work here. Nothing is done right. What do you expect from a bunch of dropouts?!’
At this point my jaw was probably on the table. The waitress is literally putting food in front of us as she is saying this.
‘Can I bring you anything else?’ the waitress manages to squeak out.
We eat. The mom still seems to want this poor server to know she does not approve of her at all. After dessert is served, she proceeds to ask the waitress what her plans are after she leaves the restaurant. Server responds that she plans to work two more months and start community college in the spring. She had plans to become a teacher as I recall. The mom looks her up and down and scoffs and uttered, ‘Typical.’
I was just keeping quiet, but I had found newfound hatred for that woman that day. I knew if ended up marrying her daughter (bullet dodged and another story), I would fit the stereotype of hating your mother-in-law. We finish up and check is brought. It is obvious that our server had been crying. The mom again can’t resist and mentions ‘weak people’ or something to that effect as the server is walking away. We sit a few more minutes. As we get up to leave, the server kind of rushes up to the mom as we head towards the door.
‘I just wanted to thank you. You reminded me I should never be weak. I just quit my job. I was scared, but I am not weak. No, I am gonna be strong and make a change. I don’t want to help you or anyone like you anymore. So thank you.’
That was the best response that the server could have made. It was so awesome. Apparently it really rubbed the mom the wrong way, as she complained about it the next time we went out to eat, and the next few times after that. I eventually just started declining invites.”