From Wine Pairing to Un-Pairing

I’m a server at a fine dining restaurant that’s pretty popular in my city. One evening, a couple, who we later found out were visiting from Texas (we think), came in for dinner. At the start of the meal, they seemed like a great couple: super friendly and really excited to be there. They opted for one of our tasting menus with the optional wine pairing and an added course. Altogether, their tab came to around $800 before tip.

The evening goes by, they’re enjoying everything, and everything is going great. They love the food, they love the sommelier, and they seem to love me. At one point in the evening, I get a little busy, so I don’t notice right away that the husband has gotten up from the table. When I check on their second-to-last course, I notice he’s not at the table. I stop by to check in with the wife to see if he stepped away for a call or something.

Me: “Did he step out to take a call?”

Wife: “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

Normally, I’m good at keeping my shock in check, but in almost ten years in the industry, this is the first time that’s ever happened to me. Trying to keep the mood light and salvage this lady’s evening without getting overly personal, I try to make a joke:

Me: “So… do we hate him now or what?”

Wife: “Well, he’s my husband, so that’s not really an option.”

Folks, my jaw hit the floor. At this point, the wine pairing has started to hit her, and she’s clearly panicking. To her credit, she keeps it together enough that if you weren’t right next to the table, you wouldn’t notice. She even goes through the rest of the tasting solo; major props to her.

After she finishes the meal, we try to do everything we can to turn the night around. We even offer to pay for her Uber since her husband ditched her, but she refuses since their hotel is an hour away from the restaurant. She decides to sit at the bar while waiting for her car. She asks for a shot of tequila, and we’re more than happy to oblige because all of us are still flabbergasted.

Then, as she’s waiting, her husband finally calls her to say he’s cut the vacation short and is on his way to the airport. Her car pulls up right as she’s telling us this, and the last thing we hear from her is:

Wife: “Well, now I have to go figure my life out.”

For the rest of the night, this is all any of us can talk about. We’re collectively trying to Nancy Drew our way into figuring out what happened at that table to cause this. All at once it hits us: we probably just witnessed the initiation of a divorce.

And one final note: the lady paid the whole $800 tab and still tipped over 20%. Absolute bada**.