Picky Penny Pinchers Don’t Like To Share

I work at an Italian restaurant chain. A woman and her husband carrying a baby come in.

Woman: “Can we please sit at the back of the restaurant in that empty room? Our baby is a sensitive sleeper.”

Hostess: “That room is empty because it’s reserved for a high school prom’s dinner, but I can check with a server and see if they’re okay with serving one of the back corners, and then we can put the prom party at the front of the room. There are only around fifteen people in their party, and that room seats sixty.”

I am the server in question, so the host comes and asks me if I’m okay with it. I say go for it.

I come to the table and take the couple’s drink order, being quiet for the little one. I come back with their drinks and set them down, and then I take their order.

Woman: “I’d like the chicken Parmesan with no cheese.”

What?!

Man: “You know around six months ago when you guys had the Northern Tour of Italy? There is a mushroom alfredo on there. I want the steak gorgonzola, but I want the mushroom alfredo instead of the regular pasta and sauce, and I do not want the balsamic glaze that comes on the steak pieces. It is disgusting and I will send it back. I also do not want alfredo, add mushrooms and steak, because it is not the same.”

Luckily for this man, I know exactly what dish he is talking about.

Now, the infamous question:

Me: “Soup or salad?”

Woman: “We want both. The salad needs to have no tomato, extra croutons, extra onions, and no olives, and we want three cups of dressing on the side. For the soups, we want two bowls, each with two of the four soups poured in together but not stirred.”

I’m over this already.

Me: “There will be an extra charge to have both soup and salad. It’s about $5.”

They flip a lid demanding to speak to a manager. The manager comes out.

Manager: “We’ll comp the extra starter this time, but in the future, you should be aware that it’s standard practice to charge for it.”

I get the floor manager and the kitchen manager and describe the guy’s meal to them to ensure there is no lost translation about exactly what this already irate man wants. They say they’ve got it covered.

I bring out the overly complicated soup and salad, as well as hot breadsticks, and set everything down.

Me: “Would we like cheese?”

I lift my little cheese grater up and begin churning, asking when to stop. After three revisits to the kitchen and five blocks of asiago cheese later, they finally call it off. As I turn to leave, they laugh.

Couple: “You can leave the cheese grater here if you want.”

I laugh, too.

Me: “I’m not allowed to do that, but I will check in regularly in case you need more.”

I give them more cheese here and there while waiting on their food.

When I bring out the food, I’m honestly excited. I hate dealing with rude customers, but it’s nice to overcome adversity and I’m pretty sure I nailed this one.

I set their food down and I can tell immediately the guy is upset.

Me: “What’s wrong with your food, sir?”

Man: “Nothing, whatever. F*** it; I’ll just eat it.”

Me: “I’m sorry if there’s something wrong with your meal, sir, but if you let me know what I can do to fix it, I would be happy to.”

Man: “There’s nothing you can do. I’ll just eat this, it’s fine.”

At this point, hostesses are beginning to shuffle in the prom kids.

I ask if either of my customers wants cheese. The woman speaks up, now yelling.

Woman: “We want you to leave the cheese grater as we asked you to the first time! And how in the h*** do you expect me to eat my meal looking at that?!”

She gestures behind me to the prom table. The room has gone dead silent. I turn around to look. I see a group of teens with a range of different disabilities in beautiful dresses and tuxedos. I can see that they, and the people escorting them, have heard what she said.

My manager walks up immediately with to-go boxes.

Manager: “You need to leave now. What you just said was disgusting, and I will not stand for it.”

The woman starts screaming as they get up to leave.

Woman: “I’m going to call corporate! And you tell your waitress, [My Name], to shove the cheese grater up her a**!”

They walked out. The weirdest thing about it all is that the baby never woke up.