Let Them Eat Cake

I work in a very small three-star hotel. This means a small kitchen, very strict dining hours, and not a lot of different options.

I got the pleasure of serving an English-speaking guest (A Lord or some nonsense) since all my other colleagues can barely put two words in English together. He comes late on the first day but we were warned beforehand and so I had the kitchen leave something for him.

In he comes, almost an hour after closing time, with his two lackeys. Then the complaining starts:

After half an hour of complaining, we get to the desserts. The pantry where we store our desserts is closed up and requires a key to open which I do not have, but they REQUIRED dessert, so off I go trying to find someone to get the d*** thing open.

I finally get a gentle soul on the reception desk that has access to all the hotel’s keys, and I finally get to the desserts. I explain to them we have ice cream and maybe some leftover cake. Both lackeys say they want cake, and the Lord asks for ice cream with nuts and put it into the microwave for a minute. I prepare the most bizarre dessert ever, give it to them and start getting ready to clean, and finally leave.

So of course, they f****** HATE it. They start complaining they just WANTED to know about the cakes, not actually have them, the ice cream did not have enough different flavours (remember, we have very few options), not enough toppings, not enough ANYTHING.

By that time, I have had enough, I just leave them there and go home.

The Lord stayed for a week, requesting out-of-season fruits every morning to be cut up and brought to his room, complaining we did not have a juicer and everything under the sun.

We actually celebrated when they left…