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Imagine Being Saddled With A Momzilla Like That

, , , | Right | CREDIT: kbgbug | January 19, 2023

I work in a restaurant. The other night, a woman and her six-person commune were seated at my table. They made it obvious that it was the birthday of one of the young teen girls in the group. She was very shy, and her mother often spoke over her and ordered for her, demanding that she got a to-go cup while everyone else had glasses.

They were fine and I did my best.

Toward the end of the meal, since they never asked about a birthday celebration, I brought them their check.

Mother: “Yeah, uh, it’s actually her birthday.”

She pointed at the teen girl who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Mother: “We would like a birthday celebration.”

Our restaurant has a “birthday saddle”, and it’s very irritating to get everyone in place to do a celebration properly. That being said, I don’t mind doing the birthdays. If the birthday person honestly wants to get on the saddle and have a waitress make a ruckus to tell the restaurant that it’s their birthday, then THAT’S OKAY.

But the thing was that this girl didn’t want to have that attention on her, and I could see that. I even asked her straight-up if she wanted me to get the saddle, and she said no, she’d rather just eat.

Her mother then pointed her finger at me and puts on “the smile”. You know the one: the condescending “You effed up!” smile.

Mother: “Come here. Right now.”

I did, and she hissed in my ear:

Mother: “We made a reservation and called in advance to tell you that we wanted to celebrate her birthday. Now, either you or someone else get the saddle, or sing Happy Birthday, or something — I don’t care — but we will not be paying out until that happens.”

I did the quickest birthday celebration that I could without the saddle or the accompanying ice cream (which honestly is really, really gross, and I told them that). All of my coworkers could tell that I was absolutely shaken and pissed because I felt bad for this girl. Her voice was so small when I asked for her name that her mother ended up blurting it at me over her. She was turning fourteen that day.

Her mom paid and left a 13% tip, which was okay; I was honestly expecting to get nothing. But the cherry on top was that I found a $20 bill left after they left. I like to think someone at the table appreciated my effort to make EVERYONE comfortable. I’m there to serve you, not entertain you.

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