Diners
BURRITO BITCH MOOCHES MARGARITASMany years ago (1980s) I was working for a Mexican restaurant in West Palm Beach, Florida. I had a young lady come in and order a steak burrito. She ordered a pitcher of margaritas with extra shots. Unfortunately she received a chicken burrito. She started screaming and yelling at me and demanding that I bring her the correct burrito. I apologized and immediately set out to get her the correct burrito. However, in the interim she called over my manager/owner and complained to him about my error in her order - she started crying and begging the manager/owner to fire me immediately. He calmed her down and immediately sent her over a complimentary pitcher of margaritas. The manager/owner called me aside and assured me I would not be fired, but explained he had taken care of the cost of the food PLUS sent her a pitcher of margaritas on the house. To which I replied, for Gosh Sakes, if the site of the wrong burrito arriving at your table makes you irate and sends you to tears, do you think a pitcher of margaritas was appropriate? I would think that if the mere sight of a chicken burrito sends you into mass hysteria, then probably alcohol was a factor to begin with......needless to say, she never thanked me for the pitcher......nor for getting the correct STEAK burrito. In fact, she never even ate the food - she drank the margaritas and ordered the food to go........4/29/08
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DIFFICULT DINERS
The owner of a popular, reasonably priced restaurant told me this one. It's about an unbelievably "difficult" couple they had at their establishment several years ago.
This couple, a man and a woman who were pushing middle age (not kids, anyway) ordered two very reasonably priced meals. When the meals came and the man took a few bites he called over the server and said "This meal is undercooked." The server offered to take it back and cook the meal more or to substitute something. At that, the man said, "NO, I'M GONNA EAT IT, I'M JUST NOT GONNA PAY FOR IT." 1/13/08
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DINING WITH A DOPE
Back in the 70s my college roommate (whom I'll call "Clark") and I decided to eat at a nationally-known seafood restaurant. I had only known him for a few days, but he seemed like a decent enough fellow. After perusing our menus, the waitress came over to take our order. After giving her my order, she then asked Clark for his. I looked over at Clark and noticed that he had a dazed expression, and that a stream of drool was coming out of his mouth. The waitress and I looked in astonishment as the drool slowly extended from his lip to his lap where it finally broke off. Clark attempted to give his order, but his speech was too slurred to understand what he was saying. I was dumbfounded how Clark's behavior could have been transformed so quickly. The waitress gave me a dirty look and said she'd come back in a few minutes. I told Clark that I didn't know what the was on, but that if he didn't sober up immediately I'd drive off without him. I walked away from the table and went to the restroom. I returned to the dining room just in time to see Clark stumble on top of someone's table, spilling food and drink. The poor diners quickly stood up shouting, "Oh, my God!" The manager, seeing what happened, told someone to call the police. I briskly walked to my car and drove away. About an hour later Clark came stumbling into our apartment, followed by a woman. She said she was a waitress in the restaurant who happened to know Clark, and that she told the manager she'd drive him home and not to call the police. I found out later that Clark enjoyed taking Quaaludes, including at inopportune times. I never ate at a restaurant with him again, but unfortunately was stuck having him as a roommate for a long time. 1/8/08
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INDIAN HOT
This is not a personal dinners from hell story, but rather one that happened to a dining companion. A colleague at work and I decided to take our wives out together to a restaurant. Since he and his wife (whom I'll call in this story, "Shakini") were new in town and Indian, I suggested going to an Indian restaurant that my wife and I liked.
At the restaurant, I ordered my meal, requesting that it be prepared "hot." Shakini mockingly laughed, stating that I had only ordered "American hot." When she gave the waiter her order, Shakini said with emphasis, "I'll take mine Indian hot!" I asked her what the difference was between American hot and Indian hot. In a braggadocio tone she replied, "American hot is nothing. Indian hot is much hotter." It seemed that she was trying to appear superior by making a point that I wasn't Indian and knew nothing about Indian food. Whatever quirk was going on in her noggin, I realized that the problem was hers and let it go.
Our meals arrived. As I enjoyed my dinner, I noticed that Shakini only ate a few bites of her food. Immediately afterwards she started to drink lots of water and seemed distressed and pained. She then started complaining vociferously that her food was too hot. Yes, Divine Justice! I did my best to stifle a smile only because her husband was present. Shakini ended up taking her food home; I bet she threw it out.
I wondered if perhaps the waiter, embarrassed by the woman's boorish behavior, asked the kitchen to kick the heat way up on her food. Or perhaps she just couldn't handle "Indian hot." 12/07
SERVER BITES HER TONGUE
This story is actually coming from a waitress, and my dinner from hell, as a server.
It started at 3 pm on a Wednesday. The restaurant I worked at had happy hour from 4-7 pm and it was only IN THE BAR...not at the restaurant tables.
So this 30-ish couple come in and the guy says, "Hey it's happy hour." I had to inform him that happy hour was only in the bar. Strike one....he didn't like that.
So he asked me how much a draft beer would be not on happy hour pricing and I told him I wasn't sure, let me get him a drink menu (because all the prices are in the computer, I don't know the prices of anything).
His female companion adds that she would like to know what kind of margaritas we had. I told her that I had to bring her a drink menu as well.
She got all huffy and asked me, "Are you new, because you don't know a whole lot."
I was so mad, I told her that we had 30 different margaritas and I was sorry if I couldn't recite the ingredients of every single one to her, that's why I offered the drink menu.
My blood boils right now, as I think about it.
So this is just the start of the party.
She ordered a raspberry margarita which she immediately hated, so I took it away from her. She ordered a soda instead. For dinner she ordered the prime rib with a baked potato with butter and sour cream.
Here's where it gets really good.
The plate with her dinner on it had the meat, a cup of au jus, a small ramekin of horseradish sauce, and her baked potato with butter and sour cream on it.
I came back and checked on them a few minutes later and everyone was happy. Unfortunately, that didn't last long.
I came back again a few minutes later to see how the meal was and she was pissed! She said to me, "There's horseradish in this little cup and I thought it was sour cream and I put it on my baked potato, and now my throat is on fire....I'm allergic to horseradish."
First let me say that if you're allergic to something that automatically comes with your food, you should tell your server. That being said....
She asked why I put horseradish on her plate. I told her that it automatically comes with prime rib.
This is the best part.........
She said, "I've eaten prime rib at some of the most expensive restaurants in town and have never had horseradish served with it."
I was like.......uh....yeah...........sure you have.
I was so mad that I wanted to scream back at her that every restaurant that serves prime rib, serves it with a side of horseradish. Ooooo, I was so mad.
I told my manager to have fun with her...so he told her the exact same thing that I wanted to scream, only he did it nicely.
They were just looking for a free meal and I'm happy to say that they didn't get it that day. 10/07
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