Unless by “conspiracy” you mean “I, the customer, am dumb as shit.”

So this lady and her husband/boyfriend/random drunk hookup are at one of my tables and the lady is bitching about how the steak is “too chewy” when

1) she has eaten over half the steak,
2) she’s eating some as she says this and
3) she ordered it “medium rare”. It’s gonna be chewy, ma’am. Next time order your meat a little more cooked and it’ll be cool.

But then the bill comes and the dude takes one look at it and starts fuming:

Him: “Yea, waiter, the price on the bill for my dinner and the price on the menu are two dollars off.”
Me: “Oh, well…let me get a menu and we can clear this right up and I can get you your two dollars back.”

Let me just stop right there. For everyone that reads this website, this should be a punch in the mouth to anyone that says “Well, the only reason he deals with idiots is because he’s a crappy waiter.” Did you just read what I said to the guy? It’s 8:00pm on a Friday evening and I’m going to all this trouble for two dollars. Hell yea. Go me. Anyways:

Him: “No no no…don’t do…well…okay. Bring the menu.”
Me: (I bring the menu) “See, sir…you must have thought this said $16.95, but your Filet Mignon dinner is $18.95 just as it is on your bill.”
Him: “Go get another menu. I think mine was different.”
Me: “Ummm…sir…they’re all the same.”
Him: “Oh, I see what’s going on here. Whatever. Someone else will catch it and be more of an asshole than I was.”

No, sir. No one is else is going to “catch it” because there’s nothing to catch. Unless, of course, you’re talking about the obvious herpes on your lady-friend’s lip. Then yea, someone else is going to “catch it”.

Drunk Woman: “Can I have a to-go box for my fried rice?”
Me: “Sure.”

(After paying the bill)

Drunk Woman: “You know…I’m…I’m not really going to eat that rice. Can you throw it away for me at the bar?”
Me: “Yea, not a problem. Have a nice night.”

(After a few more minutes)

Drunk Woman: “On second though…can I…can I have that…uh…rice back?”
Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I already threw it away.”
Drunk Woman: “Well…is it on the top of the trash or did you…throw it…smush it down in there?”
Me: “Let me check.”

(I check)

Me: “It’s down in there.”
Drunk Woman: “Oh.” (turns to drunk boyfriend) “Think it’s still good?”
Drunk Boyfriend: “It is definitely time to go.”

I’d think a woman who went dumpster-diving would tip a lot worse than her. Goes to show you can’t always judge a book by its cover.

So I’m serving a sixty-something year in a tweed jacket. That should be punchline enough for you people.

But, no, that’s not the end of it. He talks as if he’s an extra out of a Monty Python skit and has a nose and disposition that even Winston Churchill would call “too British”.

Him: “Excuse me, sir. Why did you just carry out my beverage with your hands?”
Me: “Umm…I don’t quite know how to answer that, sir.”
Him: “Of course you don’t, my boy. Why didn’t you carry it out on a tray?”
Me: (In my best Sherlock Holmes) “I didn’t see the need, sir. It would be a waste of a good tray, old chap, if I were to use a whole blasted tray for one drink.”
Him: (Visibly angry)
Me: “Plus, with the way everything is just buggers in this tavern t’night, I thought I’d let me friends take the trays for all those plates of fish and chips hot off the steamer for the rest of the patrons. If you don’t mind, I’ve yet served a few of me customers and blimey they’re angry little bastards if I was worth half a shilling. I’ll be right back for your order of food in two shakes of a frog’s leg.”

It helps to have taken acting and improv classes in high school when you’re a waiter. At least to keep yourself sane.

Every now and again, I’m going to bring back an older post that many of you frequenting my site may not have had the opportunity to read. Here is one of them now:

As I walk into the bathroom, I hear someone talking very excitedly into the phone in the closed-door stall. Curious, I listen in as I use the urinal.

Him: “Listen, baby, I’m here with my wife. How’s an hour sound?…Okay…Yea…Yea…No, that won’t work…Yea!…Okay, see you then.”

The look he gave me as he walked out of the stall and saw me washing my hands was one of first confusion and then fear. My expression nearly matched his as I realized this was the same man who just minutes ago I was serving onion soup and two Philadelphia sushi rolls to. I didn’t know this dude was my customer.

For the rest of the meal, the knot in my stomach made its way up into my throat as I saw this man affectionately kiss his wife, hold her hand with his left and feed his infant daughter steamed rice and cheerios with his right. I wonder if she had any idea. I wonder if their marriage was any good. I wonder if they laid in bed until 2 in the morning talking like my girlfriend and I do. I wonder if when he came back to the house he’d made a home, he showered before kissing his wife hello.

As they left, I heard the man say, “Okay, honey. I’ll catch up with you two at the house. I’ve gotta help Donald with something with his car.” She kissed him, smiled and walked out the front door and into her car. He stayed at the bar a few extra minutes and then jumped into his own car. I guess he’d thought ahead and brought two.

He was smiling too.