We have just got a new server, a young woman who is very excited to be here.

New Starter: “This is so cool! This is my very first job!”

Me: “I’m glad you’re excited! Just remember your training and you’ll be fine. I’ve just assigned you your first table! You never forget your first one!”

Off she goes to take their order.

New Starter: “Can I get you guys any drinks?”

Customer: “What’s on tap?”

New Starter: “Um… water? You guys are pulling my leg, huh?”

The customers are almost falling out of their chairs laughing while I jump in to help. Once the order is taken, the new starter asks what happened.

Me: “Let’s just say that I won’t ever forget your first table, either!”

I work at an Italian restaurant, and I am explaining the menu to a couple who just sat down. I am mere seconds in when the woman starts scolding me.

Customer: “No! You’re not pronouncing ‘Bruschetta’ with the right roll on the R! When my husband and I spend money on a nice Italian dinner, then we also expect it to be the same experience as when we visit Italy ourselves!”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but I can’t roll my Rs like that.”

Customer: “Then why are you working in an Italian restaurant?”

Me: “Because this is Saskatchewan, and we’re between a McDonald’s and a Korean BBQ place… and this is an Olive Garden.”

My wife and I traveled to Montreal, arriving on a Sunday evening. The city shuts down fairly early on Sundays (most places anyway), and that included the dining room in our hotel. Fortunately, the hotel knew of a small cafe a short walk away that they thought would still be open, but, “Don’t delay… Go now!”

We got there, and the cafe was open, but the manager advised us that they would close in an hour.

Manager: “In Canada, that means lights off, doors locked, kitchen and dining room closed, and employees on their way home. Given that, we can’t make all the items on our menu, but if you allow it, I can recommend some great options.”

Me: “Of course!”

We then observed a couple with a young child at one table, and at a second table, another couple about our age. We sat down after accepting the manager’s suggestion for dinner.

The young child was a bit antsy — not surprising for it being a bit late for his age, which I guessed to be around three or four. He wasn’t particularly loud, but he was a bit whiny, and he did get up and wander a bit.

That is when the woman of the younger couple said loudly:

Young Woman: “You’d think they could control that child.”

The comments escalated from there. The young man at one point said:

Young Man: “I’d have had him outside and over my knee long before this.”

A little while later, their server went over and whispered something to them. We couldn’t hear that, but we heard the young man boom out:

Young Man: “We are not the problem. They and that out-of-control child are! Either they — or you — get a handle on that child or throw them out!”

There was a little back-and-forth, and then the young woman loudly demanded:

Young Woman: “Give us the phone number to CPS! I’m going to call them right now!”

All this time, the manager and the server kept casting nervous glances at my wife and me. Then, the chef appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was a little short guy. None of them would be a match for the loudmouth guy judging by size alone.

I was small but fit; my wife was also small but fit, a one-time fitness instructor who also had training in martial arts. I think the manager sensed that if we sided with them, we’d quickly gain the upper hand. Still, as a person with manners, he had not yet called the police — amazing restraint on his part.

Finally, he worked up the courage, walked up to their table, and demanded:

Manager: “Leave now or I’ll call the police.”

He looked at us. We both gave him a thumbs-up and, with that, he said once more, with full resolve:

Manager: “OUT… NOW!”

The couple got up and headed toward the door. Then, the manager pointed out that there was still the small matter of the tab to settle or they’d face jail for sure.

They paid, fuming all the way, and left.

He then approached us with a quiet thanks and glasses of wine on the house.

Our place has a huge self-serve breakfast bar. I’m busy setting it up one morning when a coworker comes to me.

Coworker: “Help! I’m so confused.”

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Coworker: “I’m trying to cook the eggs! I’ve been trying to cook them for twenty minutes, but they aren’t doing anything!”

I walk over to see what the issue is, and it’s immediately apparent.

Me: “I guess we should stop putting the liquid eggs and orange juice in similar containers from now on…”

I had a coworker who was absolutely awful to waitstaff because he believed it got him better service. I once asked him if he minded the fact that the waiters might spit in his food, and he went, “Heh, heh, heh, some places charge extra for that.”

Worse, I was usually seated next to [Coworker] at corporate functions because our last names were only a few letters apart, and seating was by last name.

It hurt my soul watching [Coworker] act the way he acted, and it hurt my happiness watching as the service at our table consistently went from “okay” to “the worst service in the house” due to his behavior. I started requesting specifically not to be seated at the same table as him.

Another corporate event was coming up, and when I checked the seating chart, to my dread, I saw that I was once more seated at the same table as [Coworker]. Fed up with it, I hatched a plan.

I found out who the catering company was and warned them about [Coworker] in advance. I advised that they record his outbursts, gave them the email addresses of some high-level executives, and told them that if [Coworker] gave them trouble, they should threaten to blacklist us. It took a while for the person I’d called to understand, but eventually, I got passed along to a manager in the catering company who had a brilliant evil cackle as we conspired together.

Next, on the day of the event, I made sure to rile the guy up. I knew what sorts of things would upset [Coworker]. A couple of his biggest triggers were praising young people and talking about the poor, so I made sure to say a few triggering phrases to him before the servers came around.

He had so many nasty outbursts with the waitstaff that day, and each time he started to calm himself down, I mentioned something else to piss him off, like talking about a homeless encampment or mentioning an article about a fast food worker getting a GoFundMe after the company stiffed him for his many-year anniversary.

My a**hole coworker barely knew which end was up by the end of the day. He was practically frothing, and his face was blotchy and red. I’m surprised he didn’t have a heart attack. He had to call off work the day after because his “voice was too hoarse”!

My plan did not take long at all to come to fruition. By the next week, [Coworker] had been let go.

I never told anyone else about it, though one woman seated at the table watched me do it and secretively congratulated me when [Coworker]’s “retirement” was announced.

A few years later, I saw [Coworker] manning a cash register at a retail store. I asked him why he was here, and he ranted that his “401k” in his mid-fifties wasn’t enough to retire off of and he had been disqualified from the company pension.