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Oh, We’ll Give You “Noisy,” Old Man!

, , , , , , | Friendly | June 17, 2022

The story comes courtesy of my mom. After her prom in the 1970s, she and her date and a bunch of friends went out to a local diner to get some food. They weren’t being terribly loud or troublesome, but an old man in the corner still decided to grumble about noisy kids and disrespectful youth and all that sort of thing. 

Mom, being the mature and responsible teenager that she was, made a suggestion to her friends. Her idea was to pool all the change they had with them, load it into the jukebox, and queue up Amazing Grace. On the bagpipes. Seventeen times. 

They did it.

She’s not sorry.

Omelet You Deal With This One, Manager

, , , | Right | CREDIT: Weasel_Cannon | January 2, 2022

My first job is as a server at a very popular twenty-four-hour breakfast diner chain. We have lots of colorful customers. One morning, I’m serving a woman sitting by herself.

Me: “What can I get you?”

Customer: “I’d like an omelet.”

We have a list of pre-built omelets, or you can build your own.

Me: “How would you like your omelet?”

Customer: “Just a regular omelet, please.”

Me: “Okay, so you don’t want one of the signature omelets. What would you like inside of yours?”

Customer: *With a huff* “Nothing, just a regular omelet.”

I pause for a second because this order does occur but not often. Some people like their eggs scrambled, cooked, and then rolled up.

Me: “So you’d like an omelet with nothing inside?”

Customer: *Irritated* “YES! A plain omelet!”

I enter the order: a five-egg omelet with no fillings and no toppings. A few minutes later, it comes out, and she is appalled.

Customer: “What is this?!

Me: “Your plain omelet.”

Customer: *Irate* “But where is the cheese, or the ham, or the onions?!”

Me: “Ma’am, you ordered an omelet with nothing inside…”

Customer: *Cocky* “An omelet is eggs rolled up with ham, cheese, and onions! Everything else is extra! You should know this, working at a breakfast place!”

Me: *Deadpan* “Actually, ma’am, ‘omelet’ is French for scrambled eggs that are fried and rolled or folded; everything else is extra.”

I was busy, so I walked off and helped other colorful customers. Meanwhile, she flagged down a manager to complain, who confirmed what I had told her and pointed out that on the menu there is, very specifically, a ham, cheese, and onion omelet with a large picture in the middle of the page. Then, he told her she’d have to reorder her meal and wait a second time.

She didn’t leave a tip.

Some People Shouldn’t Be Public-Facing

, , , , | Working | December 2, 2021

Years ago, we were holidaying in America and stopped in one of those roadside diners. We would tip back home in the UK (for particularly good service), but we know the expectation is much higher here so we bear that in mind during our trip.

Unfortunately, our waitress was just rude, lazy, and obnoxious. She rolled her eyes as we asked to not have onions on our burgers, scoffed at our pronunciation (of an English word), lied about being “out” of the side we ordered, and then refused to ask the kitchen to make it.

It felt like we were a burden rather than a guest. When the bill came round, we noticed that the gratuity was already added.

Me: “Sorry, but there is no way I’m paying a single penny tipping you.”

Waitress: “Well, I’m not removing it!”

Me: “Just get the manager.”

She put her hands on her hips.

Waitress: “He’s not here today.”

Me: “Fine. Call the police.”

Waitress: “You foreigners come here… I knew from the minute you walked in that you wouldn’t be worth my time. You never tip, you always leave a mess… Fine! I’ll take the tip off, seeing as you clearly couldn’t possibly afford a few dollars.”

Me: “You want a tip? Try not being terrible at your job.”

We paid and left. Afterward, we checked the reviews. Unsurprisingly, lots of other people said the same thing happened to them, all of them tourists.

An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 15

, , , | Right | CREDIT: do-not_sow | September 10, 2021

I’m a store manager at a truck stop diner. I’m kind of over the guests coming in without masks and shouting obscenities about our state’s governor.

A guy comes in without a mask.

Me: “Sir, you have to put on a mask.”

Customer: “I have a medical condition! And I was a fire marshal fifteen years ago…”

Blah, blah, blah. I’m paraphrasing because I wasn’t listening that intently.

I look him dead in the face.

Me: “If you have a medical condition that prohibits you from walking to your table and sitting down with a mask, maybe you shouldn’t be dining out.”

He turns purple.

Customer: “You’d better give me corporate’s number so I can report your f****t a**. What kind of s***ty restaurant are you running?!”

I was satisfied as I got him my area director’s number.

An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 14
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 13
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 12
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 11
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 10

Pardon My French, But What A Jerk

, , , , , , , | Related | CREDIT: AQuietBorderline | August 14, 2021

My stepmother has her good traits, but she does have this one really nasty trait. She is notoriously picky and critical when it comes to food. You know the stereotypical snooty and rude French character in movies and books who always complains, “That is not how this is done in France.”? She’s this way when it comes to food.

Going out to eat with her is embarrassing. She constantly sends back food, insists on food being made a certain way, and demands certain things done a certain way. One time, she asked the waiter to bring some mustard to the table. Not two minutes later, she called him back because the mustard was “old,” and insisted that he bring us a new unopened bottle. More than once, I’ve had to apologize to the waitstaff on my family’s behalf and tell the manager that I will vouch for them should [Stepmother] leave a bad review on their site.

She’s made waiters and managers cry; she’s that bad. Honestly, I have no idea why Dad puts up with her when she does that, even though I know he’s just as embarrassed as [Brother] and I are.

My dad just came into town to visit my brother and me for a few days and brought my stepmother with him. Dad recommended our new favorite new diner, which is known for its breakfasts at any time of the day. We live close to a major interstate and the saying about truckers knowing all the best diners and holes in the wall in all fifty states and then some is true.

It’s a greasy spoon in every sense of the word — right out of the 1950s, every leather booth filled with truckers or locals, waitresses who automatically know their regulars’ orders by heart and don’t put up with crap from anyone, a bustling kitchen — and while spotless, it’s just worn enough to let you know many people have been there. In other words, it has character. It may not look like a five-star restaurant, but it has some of the best breakfasts you’re ever going to eat.

I was hesitant to take [Stepmother] there if only because I didn’t want to ruin the staff’s day; [Brother] and I have been there enough times that the waitstaff and cooks know us. However, Dad wanted [Stepmother] to experience “a true American classic” and was offering to pay. So off we (reluctantly) went.

Luckily, we got there during a time that wasn’t busy, so I told Dad to find a parking spot and I would go in to get us a table. I wanted to warn the staff about [Stepmother] and apologize in advance for anything she did. Fortunately, our usual waitress thanked me for the warning and warned the rest of the staff.

We went in, got our booth… and [Stepmother] tried pulling her usual stunts. I won’t go into everything she did because we’ll be here forever, but I’ll leave a highlight reel.

[Stepmother] sent [Waitress] back three times with the coffee because, in order, “it was too cold”, “it was too hot,” and “not enough cream”. Finally, [Waitress], who doesn’t let anybody push her around, just slapped the coffee pot on the table along with the cream and sugar and told [Stepmother] to make do because she wasn’t going back to get her d*** coffee. This made [Brother] and me chuckle and [Stepmother] steam.

While waiting (and probably still stewing from [Waitress]’s little comeback with the coffee), [Stepmother] decided to accost a new waitress who had just started and tell her to get some fresh biscuits. Not ask. Tell. Poor [New Waitress], who was understandably anxious about her job, did as she was told. Then [Stepmother] made a fuss about the packets of butter not being soft enough, despite [New Waitress] explaining that all the butter was kept cold for safety reasons. [Stepmother] made a snide remark about how [New Waitress] couldn’t wait five extra minutes to let the butter soften, which made [New Waitress] tear up. I was about ready to tell [Stepmother] off.

When our meals did arrive, [Stepmother] was quiet during the meal, not making comments. I was unsure what was going to happen. Either she really liked it (which I doubted, seeing as I’ve never seen her compliment anyone’s cooking whenever we’ve gone out) or she was planning some nasty barb (which I feared). When [Waitress] dropped off the bill, [Stepmother] took it before Dad could and said she was paying. Because I was sitting next to her, I saw that [Stepmother] left a big fat zero in the tip line and left a note, “It’s cute that American chefs think they’re good cooks when they’ve never stepped in a real kitchen before. Prove me wrong,” before closing the little book the receipt came in and hiding it so nobody else could see what she wrote.

I was pissed when I read that note and was about ready to slap [Stepmother]. I know that the chefs and servers who work at this particular diner learned their skills on the job and, if you ask me, they have every right to be as proud of their work as someone who went to culinary school would be.

I took out $100 using the ATM at the diner and gave it to the staff as a tip along with an apology for her behavior, embarrassed and angry. Fortunately, they didn’t hold it against us (except [Stepmother]) and told me that [Brother] and I were always welcome back.

I also decided I was going to get back at [Stepmother].

There was a benefit to this lockdown. During this time, bored out of our wits and wanting to better our skills, [Brother] and I have been binge-watching recipe and cooking how-to videos online and practicing. And while I don’t like bragging, I’d say we’ve become quite good. We know how to smoke our own bacon, cure corned beef, make creamy scrambled eggs, and bake flaky croissants… and that’s just a sampling.

When we got home, I told [Brother] my plan and he was grinning ear to ear.

The next day, while [Stepmother] and Dad still slept, [Brother] and I got up early and got right to work. We prepared scrambled eggs, home-cured bacon, biscuits, and a fruit salad.

Dad came downstairs first and [Brother] asked him to set the table. [Stepmother] came down as we were finishing up and sat down, not offering to help.

[Stepmother] commented that it smelled just like a restaurant she went to in France and she couldn’t wait to taste everything. [Brother] and I served plates for Dad and ourselves before putting everything away. [Stepmother] looked at us, confused.

I looked at her and said, “Oh, I thought you were going to a French cafe for breakfast. You did write on the receipt at the diner that you thought it was cute that Americans think they’re good cooks if they haven’t set foot in a real kitchen, and you wanted someone to prove you wrong.”

Dad looked at [Stepmother], his eyes wide, as all the color drained from [Stepmother]’s face.

“You wrote what?!” Dad said.

“Well, hop to it,” I said, sitting down. “Enjoy your French breakfast with your French chefs.”

[Stepmother]’s face reddened and she left. I don’t know if she was embarrassed or angry, but we were able to have a nice breakfast without any of [Stepmother]’s complaining.

She did come back after getting breakfast, and she was nice and quiet all day.

Dad and [Stepmother] were supposed to stay with us for a few days before I return to work next week. They left this morning… but not before they had a vicious argument last night after my brother and I went to bed. And when I say vicious, I mean it was so loud that we could hear every word. Thank God the neighbors couldn’t hear; otherwise, we might’ve had the cops called on us.

Dad chewed [Stepmother] out about what she wrote on the receipt and reminded her that she had promised him she’d be on her best behavior. After all, this restaurant was special, not just to [Brother] and me, but to Dad, as well. [Stepmother] defended her actions, saying that it was not what she likes, etc… until she finally blew up and revealed the real reason she threw that tantrum in the restaurant.

It turned out Dad was planning on surprising [Stepmother] on a trip to one of the best restaurants in town to celebrate the anniversary of their first date, which was yesterday. She had found the reservations by accident and thought they were going the night they arrived; he was planning on taking her in a couple of days to make it a real surprise.

Going to the greasy spoon instead of the super nice, expensive restaurant really upset her, and she thought he was catering to his kids instead of her. The argument finally ended when Dad took to the couch downstairs, fed up with her BS.

They left this morning. Dad told me before they left that he was going to have a serious talk with [Stepmother] about her behavior and that until she learned her manners, he is not going to take her out anymore, even to our place.

Hopefully, that will be either the wake-up call to [Stepmother] to behave… or to Dad that he should get out.