BITCH: Yeah, can we get two waters, just regular tap water, and we don't want the oil and vinegar, just butter for the bread.
ME: Okaaaay, right away--
BITCH: Mine without ice.
I come back shortly with her water sans ice and the bread/butter.
BITCH: Okay we know what we want, we come in all the time and we get pretty much the same thing every time. We both want the side salad with romaine only--
ME: I'm sorry, do you want the italian tossed or the caesar or...
BITCH: What? It's just the side salad... it's called the side salad
(Note: almost all of our salads come as side salads so this is not as obvious as she would think)
BITCH: Anyway, we want ALL romaine lettuce with white beans, extra white beans on the side, with the pink dressing, with extra dressing on the side...
HUSBAND: I'd like mine with tomatoes and onion, as well...
BITCH: And we want it topped with SHREDDED MOZZARELLA....not crumbled or sliced. We want SHREDDED mozzarella, so be sure to tell them that because they usually get it wrong.
HUSBAND: And for my entree I'll have a side of two meatballs with marinara sauce.
To be honest, I had to repeat their order back to them a couple of times because the way they ordered it was actually MUCH more confusing than this... but there's no way I could replicate it here. They rattled it off faster than I could write it.
So, I hand write all of the special instruction for the kitchen and spell it out for the guy making the salads and I tell him that this lady is crazy, so to make sure to get it right. When they're ready, I take them out personally to make sure it's okay.
The second I go to set it down, I'm not shocked at all that this is not to the woman's specifications.
BITCH: What is this cheese? It looks like it's SHAVED, not shredded. What did you tell them?!
ME: I'm so sorry, I told them shredded mozzarella, so I'm not sure...
BITCH: This is NOT right, have them re-make this and make sure you get the SHREDDED MOZZARELLA.
HUSBAND: This is fine. I'll take mine, I don't care.
ME: I'm so sorry, let me take yours back and ask the chef. Maybe he got the wrong one by mistake.
|Congrats. You earned it.|
So I brought the corrected salad out to her.
ME: I'm so sorry about that. The guy making the salads is sort of new, so I think maybe he didn't know the difference (lie, lie, lie).
BITCH: This is right, you see how the--
ME: Yes, absolutely. I definitely see the difference now. Again, so sorry about that.
To make the story even better and this bitch even crazier, my buddy tells me that he heard her tearing apart her husband for "throwing her under the bus" by accepting his salad and for making her look bad for only demanding what she ordered and continued to berate him for letting people walk all over him.
Then, after they had paid, the bitch flags down Thomas, who happens to be an absurdly attractive young man. He asks if he can help her with anything and she says, "Never mind, you're too young" and the husband says, "Yes, do you know a good psychotherapist?"
Wow. Thank goodness the husband paid. Their meal cost a whopping $14.67, but he did leave me four bucks. I'm sure that's 20% plus a dollar to cover the crazy. I'm also quite certain that I overheard her asking if I took the salad off or if he asked me to take it off because I heard him say, "Well, I'm sure it's too late now" as I swiped the credit card. I wasn't about to take off that salad, not in a million years, because I don't believe in rewarding crazy bitches. If she had been a sweetheart and nice about being particular, I would have taken off the salad AND gotten her some free lemon cookies.
You go A LOT farther in life being nice than being a jerk. To contrast that bitch, I had another table at the same time that was sooooooo sweet. They were sort of particular about some things, but they were very, very, very nice. They guessed that I was from the Midwest because I was so genuine and sweet. So, I brought THEM some lemon cookies. HA. I hope the mozzarella bitch overheard it all!