Posts Tagged ‘Revenge’

One night when I was a waitress at Texas Roadhouse, a guy at my table of 20 people decided to start throwing peanuts at me while I was taking orders. One of the peanuts hit me in my chest and everyone at the table noticed it. Everyone got real quiet. I looked at the guy and said “I’ve got something really special for your food order,” and the whole table erupted with laughter. The guy turned bright red and had a look on his face that said he had just lost his appetite. I’m sure he thought twice before drinking his lemonade and biting into his steak.

-Leslie

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I was training at a new restaurant. My trainer and I get sat a party of eight. Couples. Business guys taking the wives out for a night on the town. Cocktails flow. Appetizers disappear. Finally my trainer is making the rounds, taking orders. He’s already discussed the night’s specials in detail, already sold a couple of $40+ entrees. He gets to The Loud Guy. This guy has a few drinks in him and has decided to impress everyone with how awesome and knowledgeable he is. So of course he asks my trainer to repeat all the specials. He does. Dude starts drilling down to specific ingredients, even asking what kind of herbs are in the béarnaise sauce (it’s tarragon, moron, it’s a fucking béarnaise sauce).

Now, this is at 8 PM on a Friday night and we have 3 other tables of 4 already seated. I’m doing what I can, but my trainer is trapped at this eight-top. Loud Guy keeps asking stupid questions and wanting to chat.
Finally my trainer says, “Sir? I’m sorry, but I have other tables that need my attention. May I take your order?”
Loud guy freaks. How rude, blah blah blah.
My trainer looks at him and says, “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t realize I was here to entertain you.” And then he starts dancing. Like, John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever disco moves. He boogies around the whole table, says to me “Get this guy’s order!” and pelvic-thrusts his way back to the kitchen, leaving the eight-top speechless.
The guy ordered a steak. Medium well. Asshole.

-Annie

I had a nightmare 6 top tonight. They sent everything back, spilled 3 drinks, and were incredibly rude. At the end of the ordeal they tipped $3.24 on a $176.00 tab. $3.24! Then they camped at the table for an hour. As I walked past their table one of the women asked if I could take a picture with her phone…ugh I still said yes and she handed me the phone. Instead of the camera coming up her camera screen her galley came up and there were tons of dirty pictures. So I pretended to take a few pictures but instead I was uploading the pictures straight to facbook, oooops.

-Chris

I had just made the rounds and was in the staff area, tidying and making sure my water pitchers were filled, and one of my coworkers (marked as JB) comes flying through the kitchen and collapses on one of the extra chairs we kept stacked there.

Now, JB was only seventeen at the time, and he was pretty new at waiting tables, and he was absolutely terrified, eyes wide, shaking like a leaf. I pour him a glass of water and ask him what the hell happened.

JB: “I was getting B7’s drink order from the bar, and one of the guests backed her chair right into me, and I dropped the whole thing on her and her fur coat.”

Me: “Please tell me it was white wine.”

JB: “All red. God, the floor manager is going to kill me. Can I hide here for a bit?”

I tell him to catch his breath and keep an eye on the lodge room for me, and I go to scope out the scene of the crime. I get halfway through the kitchen and I start to hear the screaming. Fur coat lady is kicking up such a fuss that the entire BOH has emptied and they’re furtively taking a look at the scene unfolding before them.

The floor manager is trying to calm her down, and figure out what to do. She’s screaming at him about how we’re going to have to pay for the cleaning, and she’s going to sue, and yadda yadda.

Floor Manager: “I’m terribly sorry this happened, but we are particularly busy tonight. Did our hostess not give you the option to check your coat?”

Fur coat lady: “Are you fucking retarded? I’m not going to trust my fur coat to a fucking (insert racial slur)

Floor manager: “Look lady, I saw you back your chair into JB, and now you’re admitting that you refused to check your coat. You can take your shit and get out of my dining room.”

The fur coat lady then throws her glass at the floor manager and stomps out screaming. JB was forgiven, and we never saw her again. From what I heard through the rumor mill, her club account got canceled and she’s forever blacklisted from the establishment.

-Alexis

I worked at an all night diner next to a string of bars. Once I had a drunk guy throw a hot plate of spaghetti at me and it hit its target, my face. I was so mad that while my face was blistering I didn’t even notice. I looked over at the manager and he just shot me one of those “Fuck it” looks. So I chased the guy out of the joint and down the street where he stumbled and fell to the ground face first knocking out a few of his front teeth and fucking up his lip pretty good. I wanted so badly to just beat the shit out of him but several of the regulars had followed us out into the street and stopped me before I could touch him. Definitely for the best. The guy ended up getting booked for whatever the label attached to being drunk and throwing hot spaghetti sauce onto a server and then running out on your check. Not to mention the medical bills that followed.

-Gregory

I made a post about business lunches a couple of days ago. I got fed up! Today this pompous prick came in again, sat in my section again, and was a douche bag again. So when he paid with his credit card I came back to the table and said, “sorry sir but your card was declined.” He demanded that I try it again. To which I replied, “Sorry but I ran it 3 times.” He got super flustered and one of his associates picked up the tab. I hope he learned a lesson!

-Brad

You need this more than I do….

Last night I had a couple at my table. Our restaurant serves a Vodka Shrimp Pasta. She “snaps” her fingers to signal me over to the table, then she orders our Vodka Shrimp Pasta and says, “lemme upgrade to Goose in that pasta.” (the sauce is just called Vodka sauce there is no booze in it) I said “no problem” rang in a chilled double shot of Grey Goose and drank the shot in the back of the restaurant. This smug lady said she loved the pasta! haha I loved my free shot of Grey Goose!

-Sarah

Today a women sat at my table alone. After asking about every single drink on our menu she asked me how our roast beef sandwich was cut. To lighten the mood I said, “with a knife.” She said without the slightest smile, “no no no how is it cut?” I said, “in half.” She replied, “NO NO NO! How is it cut!?” At this point I could tell she had no soul, so I said, “the sandwich is cut at a diagonal angle.” She replied, “uhhh I hate that…. I want the sandwich but I want it cut in half perpendicular NOT diagonal.” She shoved the menu at me and I walked away. I didn’t ring in the cutting instructions on purpose to see if this tyrannosaurus would send it back. Of course she sent it back. See lady this is why you are eating alone…you are in fact a miserable excuse for a human being.

-Makena

I bartended for many years in NYC and have seen a plethora of lame pick-up attempts. By far the most sickening was this cheezy yuppie guy who used to work at Cantor and Fitzgerald but left a year before the towers fell. The months following 9/11, he would talk up girls and tell him his sob stories about surviving that day and the friends he lost. That crocodile even managed to bring tears to his eyes.

I charged him double and when he would chat girls up, I’d walk down to that end of the bar and say things like, “You resigned over a year ago, right?” or “Dave, where exactly were you on 9-11?”. He wasn’t even in the state at the time. My favorite pastime was cockblocking him until he stopped coming to my bar. Unforgivable!

-Brad