Two older couples came in. For the sake of clarity, I will call the two women Nice Wife and Bitch Wife.
Bitch wife proceeded to drink Dewars on the rocks until she was extremely intoxicated. When she ordered her steak she asked me to have it cooked “blue.” She flipped out when I told her we didn’t do blue steaks and she instead ordered a very rare steak. Her husband ordered salmon. I was given very specific instructions on how to cook both entrees. Nice Husband and Nice Wife look mortified. Bitch Wife gets her food and promptly flips out because it’s not “blue,” even though she was totally clear on the fact that we didn’t do that at the restaurant. My manager, an experienced chef, goes out of his way to make the woman a damned blue steak and serves it to her himself. It is the third steak we have cooked for her. Bitch Wife lectures me for 10 minutes (I am not exaggerating) on what a terrible server I am, how the restaurant is a piece of shit, etc. She eats all of her steak and half of her husband’s salmon and complains that their food was inedible. She demands that their entrees be taken off their bill.
I am fuming at this point, but the manager still comps their meals. I take the check to the table for Nice Wife and Nice Husband to pay. I am lectured again about what terrible service I offered. After another 10 minutes of being scolded, I calmly told her that I understood she was upset, but that I didn’t prepare her food and had served her exactly what she ordered. Bitch Wife demands to see the manager who cooked her food. She also lectures him and says that she is a professional chef and is appalled at our inability to prepare a blue steak. Manager offers her a job at the restaurant since we obviously don’t know what I’m doing. Bitch Wife flies off the handle and storms out. Her husband follows meekly in her wake.
Nice Wife and Nice Husband leave me an immense tip. They’re so embarrassed by their friend’s behavior that they can barely look me in the eye. They leave and I start cleaning their table. Nice Wife comes back, presses an additional $20 into my hand, and whispers “I’m so sorry about the way she acted. If I’d known she would be that way I would have just fed her at my home… but she’s a chef and I don’t know how to cook.” She gives me a hug and leaves.
A few weeks later, Bitch Wife came back and got super drunk on Dewars on the rocks again. She ended up standing on her tiptoes screaming into the manager’s face in the middle of a packed dining room because there wasn’t cottage cheese on the salad bar. She was banned from the restaurant.