I’m waiting tables on Valentine’s Day at a mid-range restaurant. Not fancy, but not too shabby, think white tablecloths, candles, prix fixe specials, that kind of thing.

A couple gets seated in my section. The guy is overdressed for the place. The woman seems pleasant, if a little reserved. I drop menus and introduce myself.

Me: “Hi folks, I’ll be taking care of you tonight—”

Customer: “—We’re celebrating Valentine’s Day. What do you do special for that?”

Me: “We have the Valentine’s special menu here, complimentary bread, and—”

Customer: “—Okay, but can you dim the lights more at our table?”

Me: “Sorry, the lighting’s set for the whole dining room.”

He frowns, but it doesn’t last long before he asks:

Customer: “Can you put on some romantic music? Like… slow jazz?”

Me: “We don’t control the music, sir.”

Later:

Customer: “Can you bring the food out together, like… with some flair? Maybe announce it?”

Me: “I’ll bring the food out when it’s ready. I can, of course, explain what each item is when I bring it to the table, so you know which item is what you ordered.”

He sighs loudly and turns to his date.

Customer: “They’re usually more accommodating at nice places.”

She gives a tight smile but doesn’t say anything.

Customer: “Can the steak be cut into a heart shape?”

Me: “…The steaks are pre-cut.”

Customer: “Can you write ‘Be Mine’ in sauce on the plate?”

Me: “The sauce is a bit too tricky to write words with. They might be able to do a heart with that, though?”

Customer: “Fine, whatever. I suppose it’ll have to do. Do you have someone here selling roses? Or like, a resident photographer?”

Me: “…No.”

Customer: “Okay, you take our picture. I want one from both sides of the table, from above, and maybe, like, go far away and take a few ‘candids’ of us with like, some romantic candles. Oh, do you have candles?”

Me: “…I can take a couple of pictures, but as you see, we’re running a full house tonight as it’s Valentine’s, and everyone here is celebrating it too.”

Customer: “Look, can you get someone more important or something? I don’t think you get how this whole Valentine’s thing is supposed to work.”

I excuse myself and get my manager, who has already been watching from the bar with… an expression. My manager walks over.

Manager: “Sir, is there a problem?”

Customer: “Yeah. We’re just not getting the Valentine’s experience we expected.”

Manager: “Let me explain how this works. You order food. We bring the food. You eat the food. You pay for the food. We all say thank you and goodnight. That’s it. That’s how restaurants work.”

The guy opens his mouth. My manager doesn’t stop.

Manager: “What you’re looking for is a butler or a servant. But since you’re dining here and you called ahead to make sure your coupons were still good on Valentine’s Day, I don’t think you can afford one.”

Dead. Silence. The guy turns bright red and turns to his date.

Customer: “I mean, coupons don’t mean I’m poor or anything.”

The woman finally speaks.

Woman: “I don’t care if you have money or not. But the fact that you care this much about it, and the way you’ve treated these people tonight, tells me this isn’t going to work.”

She closes her menu.

Woman: “The food looks good, so I’ll pay for what I order and take it to go. I’ll be tipping 25%.”

She looks directly at him.

Woman: “I expect you to do it too.”

She smiles at me apologetically, orders from the bar, and tips as she said she would. The guy sat there alone, looking at her the whole time, but unable to do anything out of… I don’t know, shame, I guess?

Nothing wrong with not being able to afford the Ritz, dude, but don’t expect us to wait on your every whim for a $34.99 set three-course meal in a chain restaurant off the freeway…

I had a table last weekend, and it was by far the worst date I’ve ever seen. They sit down about twenty minutes into my shift, and are being giggly and cute, she mentions it’s their first date. The restaurant where I work is not really a first date kind of place, more like I don’t feel like cooking, and it’s the only restaurant for thirty minutes in any direction kind of place.

I’m taking drink orders, and she says she’s not really a drinker but would have a seltzer. This man orders THREE natural lights. They don’t order for another two hours, but the guy keeps ordering beers two and three at a time. Finally, they order, but he doesn’t eat; he complains to have it taken off the bill. During this discussion, he mentions that the woman is paying, which is insane considering he knows his companion isn’t drinking, yet he’s slamming beers.

At this point, I stop serving him alcohol; he’s had twelve beers. He starts asking about my t-shirt; it had a logo for a local mechanic shop on it – classy, I know.

I then realized he went to school with my husband, this man owns the very successful mechanic shop that I’m wearing the t-shirt of, and is letting this nice woman pay for his many beers while she sips a single drink. They continue to stay, and he’s sneaking beers from the bartender (another twelve we realize after they leave).

A weird regular joins their booth, and when the woman says she’s uncomfortable and is getting up, he stays and talks to this strange man for another thirty minutes. Then, he leaves to take the creep home. He did come back, and for some reason, this lady stayed at the bar? So when he tried sitting by her, she told him not to speak to her anymore.

This made him try to fight the nearest person, a man easily in his late sixties that is totally uninvolved. These people had me staying an hour after my shift ended before I finally transferred to the bartender.

They kept asking to pay, then never producing money, and continued to order things. I did stay after to see how it wrapped up, though. I’ve never seen anyone make such a horrible first impression, OR someone put up with such disrespect for so long.

I’m a waitstaff at a restaurant during Valentine’s Day. I see a guy on a date with a woman. The guy gets up the use the restroom and then the woman straight up grabs her stuff and leaves (making sure to down her glass of wine before she does so).

The poor b****** comes back and just sits there for a few minutes, before asking me:

Customer: “Did you see where my date went?”

Me: “Sorry, but… uh… she left.”

Customer: *Seemingly taking this in his stride.* “Okay.”

I smile awkwardly.

Me: “Is there anything I can get you?”

Customer: “Yeah, can I get your number? You’re way prettier than she is.”

Me: “I’m… going to say no to that.”

Customer: *Shows off a shiny metallic American Express.* “How about now?”

I’m beginning to realize why his date made her exit. This guy is trying to flex by showing off his fancy credit card, but I decide to pivot.

Me: “Oh, you’re ready to settle the bill? Let me just get that for you!”

Customer: “No, wait, I—”

Too late, I’m gone. I practically run over to my very large and hairy manager, explain the situation, and he heads over with the check and card reader. The guy pays but then sits there for another half hour to finish his wine and has to be asked to leave after he tries asking out two more female waitstaff.

My step-sister can be kind of an airhead. On Christmas one year, her dad gave her something that required her to set the date and time.

Step-Sister: “What date is it?”

Dad: “It’s Christmas Day.”

Step-Sister: “Yeah, but what date is it?”

Dad: “Oh, honey, you could hide your own Easter eggs.”

I am opening up the gas station at 5:00 am on November third. A forty-five- to fifty-year-old man comes in.

Customer: “Hey, brother, where’s the bathroom at?”

Me: “Right around the corner next to the California Lottery table.”

Customer: “Appreciate it, man. Have a happy Halloween!”

Me: “Thank you, but today’s November third.”

He sarcastically giggles. At this point, I believe he thinks I’m joking. He starts walking to the bathroom, and it hits him I may not be joking. He returns to me.

Customer: “Wait, really?”

Me: “Yes, sir, Halloween was three days ago.”

Customer: *Looks at his watch* “…f***.”