Karma Is Sweet Wine

(It’s a busy night at the club where I work as a food runner. We’re booked to full capacity, and everyone is demanding tons of drinks and food. I’m in the kitchen waiting for an order to finish when one of the floor servers comes in.)

Server: “Hey, Table #12 says they haven’t gotten their food.”

Me: “Table #12? Four women? Yeah, I brought them their food an hour ago.”

Server: “Well, they claim they haven’t gotten any of it.”

Me: “You serious?! I cleared it off ten minutes ago when I brought them another round! They had five different dishes!”

Server: “Well, [Boss] says to cook their food again; they’re complaining like crazy and getting loud.”

Me: “Okay, okay, fine.”

(Now, because we have to add their food into the queue, that means the dishes come out one at a time, instead of all together when they are usually ordered. So, in between serving other customers, I have to bring Table #12’s dishes out as they’re ready. The ladies at the table — one in particular — are very vocal about how long they have to wait and are extremely rude when I bring it. Finally, I get the last dish out.)

Me: “Here you are, ma’am. Is there anything else I can get you?”

Rude Customer: *ignores me, inspecting her food by the light of her phone*

Me: *forced sincerity* “Have a good evening, ladies.”

(Table #12 is close to a server’s station, where the server who told me to redo the food is standing. She has several dirty dishes on the counter from bussing tables. I go over to lend a hand.)

Me: “Everything going good?”

Server: “Yeah, just trying to get these checks paid out. Can you take those dishes, please?”

Me: “Sure.”

(I pick them up and turn around. What she didn’t tell me is that one of the trays has a full glass of wine on it. In the two steps it takes for me to walk past Table #12, I see the glass wobble. Before I can catch it, it tips over, spilling directly onto the rude customer at Table #12.)

Me: “Oh, s***!”

Rude Customer: “What the f***?!”

Rude Customer’s Friends: “Holy h***!”

Server: “Oh, God!”

(The customer shoots me a look of pure murder. The server grabs napkins and starts dabbing off the customer. I quickly retreat to the back where our bar area is. Walking past the bartender, I grab a glass of vodka, pour a shot, and down it.)

Bartender: “What happened?”

Me: “So, there I was in the kitchen…”

(In the end, Table #12 got their food and drinks for free, getting away with more than just their double-food scam, but the customer had to deal with being soaked in wine. I never planned to spill that wine on the customer, but I must say, karma is sweet.)