These two ladies come in right as the restaurant is closing and sit down. I go over to take their order and offer them some bread and olive oil. One lady looks at me snobbishly and says, “I don’t want any bread, I am on a diet”. “Cutting out the carbs huh? Doctor Atkins would be proud. What can I get you for dinner”? “I will have the lasagna and a salad with blue cheese”. Yes she was serious. No she wasn’t a good tipper.

Just as I feared, it’s a birthday, and they have their own cake. Naturally this party is not my only table, and the last thing I have time for during the rush is to dish out fucking cake to 15 people, sadly, the choice isn’t mine. I get some candles and find the cake in the walk in fridge. It is very nicely decorated and I don’t see any way to put these candles in without ruining the frosty decor. For reasons still unknown to me, I decide to place about 8 or 9 candles in a very small square in the center of the cake. I light them before walking out to the table only to find that the are so close together that the candles now resemble a large torch in the middle of the cake. I hurry out to the table with this inferno, wax getting everywhere and exclaim “Happy Birthday”! I put the cake down in front of the poor birthday girl and dart to the back. Thank God for added gratuity.

I am taking drink orders for this party and one of the ladies specifically orders a Sprite. For some reason I reply “no problem miss, I will be right back with your iced tea”. “No, I ordered a Sprite”. “Oh thats right”, I reply feeling stupid, “one Sprite coming right up”. I return feeling much more confident, iced tea in hand. “Here is your iced tea”. “Um, I actually ordered a Sprite”. What the hell is wrong with me. “Haha, oh thats right, I don’t know why but I just want to give you iced tea”. I go back to the drink station and fill up a nice glass of iced tea and come back to the table. I set it down, my head turns towards the lady, then back to the iced tea, then back towards the lady, then back to the iced tea, shit.

After getting drinks I ask my table if they have any questions. The gentleman at the tables tells me he would like to order a pepperoni pizza. Simple enough. “Would you like our 12 inch pizza, or our personal size 8 inch pizza”? “Whichever one is bigger”. What I wouldn’t give for a ruler right about now. After explaining the difference between 12 and 8 inches, he opted for the 12 inch, but somehow still looked slightly confused.

 I drop off some olive oil and bread and inform the guests that there is balsamic vinegar on the table. I return with drinks and ask the people how the bread is treating them, one lady makes a grossed-out face and says that the bread and oil are not tasting very good. When I come back later she says “this tastes a lot better when you put the vinegar in it, you should have told us that is what we were supposed to do.” Another gentleman at the tables replies ,“Yeah, how are people supposed to know to do that?” I guess not being a moron is a good way to start.

One evening a customer ordered a chicken dinner. We’ve had problems with this guy before. He complained every time he ate there. It could of been about the service, the silverware but this time it was about the food. His dinner arrived and was placed in front of him. Green beans, mashed potatoes with gravy and 3 pieces of chicken. One thigh and 2 legs. I was in the kitchen with several other employees watching him to see what the problem was going to be this time. He didn’t let us down. He called the waitress over with a snotty attitude. He picked up the 2 chicken legs and said; “Why would you serve me 2 chicken legs, one bigger than the other?” The waitress looked at the legs then looked at him and said; “What difference does it make to you? Are you going to eat em or dance with em?” The entire kitchen erupted with laughter and applause. The guy stormed out and we never had to deal with him again.