Scarfing It Down And Complaining Anyway

I work in a chain pub/restaurant. We are fairly cheap, but we do pretty good roast dinners on Sundays, so we are normally full.

Today, we have been stacked — as in no table left empty for more than about two minutes — all day. It’s about 8:20 pm, and we close at 9:00 on Sundays. A couple walks in, and the guy demands “the nicest table we have” with his first words to me, which I take as an odd start, but oh, well.

I seat them in a fairly private corner of the restaurant. We are only now starting to have a few empty tables, so they can have a table for four, which I consider “nice”.

I take their drink order and come back to take the food order. Like 95% of our customers on a Sunday, they order roast dinners; he gets the beef and she gets lamb. He then asks if we cook to order, obviously trying to sound like he knows what he’s talking about.

Me: “No, not the roasts. You can’t really roast meat to order.”

Man: “Well, it had all better be hot!”

Someone else takes their food out, but I go to do the check-back and ask if everything’s okay with their meal after a few minutes.

Man: “No, my meal didn’t come with any sauce.”

Me: “I’m sorry. What sauce would you like, sir?”

He has gravy, and I know the server would have asked if he wanted any sauce when they brought out his meal.

Man: “Mustard. Dijon mustard.”

Like he’s James Bond.

I go on the hunt for some. As I said, it has been a busy day, and we have run out. Our main food order with all the sauces, etc., came on Monday, and frankly, it’s not something many people order normally, so we do not have a massive stock. I go back and tell the man.

Me: “I am very sorry, sir, but it appears we’ve run out. It’s been a very busy day.”

Man: “What do you mean you’ve run out?! I want Dijon mustard!”

He literally sounds like a child.

Me: “As I said, sir, we’ve been very busy, and it’s late in the service, so, unfortunately, we’ve run out.”

Man: “Rubbish. Go and buy some, then.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, it’s a Sunday and the shops will be shut by now.”

And then he says the classic line.

Man: “I want to see the manager!”

I go and get the manager. She introduces herself and tries to calm him down. By this point, it’s 8:40. We are closing in twenty minutes and the place is emptying out. She tries offering him any other sauces, to which he says no. Then, he literally bellows:

Man: “If you don’t have Dijon, I am not paying!”

People all over the restaurant look round.

My manager, I think, decides, “What’s the point in arguing?”

Manager: “Fine.”

And then she walks away. The man looks crestfallen like he wanted the argument.

I carry on working as the man and his wife grumpily eat everything on their plates. By the time they are finished, it’s 8:50. I hurry over and ask if they would like dessert or any final drinks, and to my relief, they say no.

I fetch their bill, which has their drinks and the woman’s meal on it, but not the man’s. As I said, it’s a fairly cheap restaurant, so their bill is not too much. The man looks at me as I put it down.

Man: “What’s that?”

Me: “The bill, sir.”

Man: “I said I am not paying.”

Me: “Yes, sir, we’ve taken off your meal. This is just for your drinks and your wife’s meal.”

Man: “No, I’m not paying for any of it!”

Me: “Sir, we’ve given you your meal for free. You’ve not said there was any issue with anything else.”

Man: “The manager! Get her!

At this point, the place is basically empty, so the manager has been listening in and comes straight over.

Manager: “We can’t just give you a whole free meal. You both ate your meals, anyway.”

The man looked shocked by this and stood up. My manager and I looked at each other, and we both let him storm out. Frankly, it’s a chain restaurant, they were two of hundreds of customers we had that day, and neither of us thought trying to stop him was worth the effort.

The man’s wife hurried out after him. As she did, she clearly realised how ridiculous he was being as she took some cash out of her purse and left it behind. They both left, and my manager just looked shocked.

It turns out that the woman left more than enough to cover the bill, even with the man’s meal included, so I made a fairly good tip off of them.

Also, in his anger, the man left his scarf behind. It was left in lost property for long enough that he had the opportunity to come and collect it, and then I took home as a kind of trophy. It’s very nice! And it probably cost him more than the whole meal.