My mom used to run restaurants. My stepfather used to be a chef in high-end restaurants, and he is the kind of guy who expects to be treated better than he is currently being treated, regardless of whatever that treatment is. They are not fun to go out to eat with. My wife and I pride ourselves on being a “relief” table when we go out to eat. Both of us have been servers, and there’s always the counterpoint to the difficult table, which is us. Barring horrible service or bad food, we are super easy customers, tip well, and try to have a good time with our server. Furthermore, we just treat people nicely. So, you can imagine our disdain when my parents act like they’re royalty at a dinner service.

My wife and I went out to dinner with them. They were being particularly tough. My mom was acting like she was Gordon Ramsey, analyzing the business, critiquing everything down to the number of bubbles in her seltzer.

Mom: “It looks like it’s time to change the CO2!”

My stepdad was getting more and more heated over stupid things, like the amount of ice in his drink and how the waitress didn’t top off his water fast enough. He was barely sipping on it.

It came to a head when my stepfather ordered a steak medium-well, and it came back medium-well. For some reason, he changed his mind that he wanted it medium rare while it was cooking, and they didn’t read his mind, so he gave attitude, as did my mom. They jumped really quickly to demanding free stuff. I’m an adult, and this may be the first time they realized this. I interrupted them in front of the server and said something like:

Me: “Really? This is what you’re doing. That’s what you ordered!” *To the server* “We do not need anything comped.”

I then pulled out my wallet and handed her my card.

Me: “This is for the bill. We’ll happily wrap up with what we have here. I’m very sorry for their behavior; you’re doing great.”

Then, I uttered the line that stung them so deep they still bring it up years later.

Me: “I was taught to treat people nicely — a lesson that seems to be forgotten. Thank you.”

My parents turned red and the server walked away. I looked down and cut my steak, and I didn’t say a word. They were so flabbergasted that the meal was virtually silent, except for me asking my stepfather how his steak was a few minutes later. I signed the check and gave a big tip, and we walked out and said goodbyes. They’ve been nicer to servers each time that we’ve gone out since.

As the new guy, I am given the task of opening up the restaurant. This meant arranging tables and setting them up, stocking the bar and waiters’ station, counting the register, and confirming reservations for the day.

Before anyone else on staff shows up to work, a loud knock comes from our locked front door. I go to see who’s there, and two elderly women want to come in and be seated for service.

Me: “We open for service at 11:30.”

They aren’t having it.

Ladies: “We wanted to be seated now. We have a Groupon which is set to expire, and we demand service. Your website says you open at 10:30!”

Me: “We can’t have people in the restaurant while we are setting up, but I’ll be happy to take care of you when we open.”

Ladies: “Are you a manager?”

Me: “No.”

Ladies: “You look too stupid to be a manager.”

They then sit themselves in our outdoor patio area. Fine. They are out of my way, so I can proceed with my tasks, except they decide to start calling the restaurant. The phone rings, I go over to pick it up, they swear at me, I hang up, and they do it again. After the third or fourth time, I just let the phone ring. The other old lady gets up and just starts pounding on the door to be let in while the other is on the phone, letting it ring.

At this point, the other waiter on schedule shows up and asks what’s going on. I explain, and he goes out to tell them the same things I did, and they gave him the same treatment.

11:30 rolls around and the kitchen is up and ready for service. The two old ladies barge in and shove their Groupon coupon in my coworker’s face.

Coworker: “Ma’am, our establishment does not accept Groupons. If you had read the name and address of the restaurant the Groupon is attached to and compared it to the name of our restaurant on the front door you’ve been pounding on for the past hour, you would have discovered that you are at the wrong restaurant.”

They slunk off, but it doesn’t end there. They went online and posted a review about what a horrible restaurant experience they had, how we were infested with rats, and how we should all be fired.

Customer: “Can I have a cold ginger ale, please?”

I charge her for it and give it to her.

Customer: “You don’t have any other cold drinks? This doesn’t feel that cold.”

Me: “That’s all we have in the fridge.”

Then, it occurred to her that maybe it wasn’t as cold as she wanted because she was wearing latex gloves. She felt her drink with her forearm and realized that her gloves were blocking her ability to tell how cold the drink was.

People just love to tell you you’re wrong before figuring out that they’re in the wrong themselves.

My family is having lunch at a small restaurant when I’m about eight. My mum orders takeout to eat in the restaurant because she doesn’t like the food in the restaurant. We don’t realise that the restaurant has a “no outside food” policy. As the waiter begins to serve us our food, he notices my mum’s food.

Waiter:  “Sorry, ma’am, you’re not allowed to eat that here.”

My mum apologises and begins to put her food away. However, my dad is furious.

Dad: “What do you mean she’s not allowed to eat here?”

Waiter: “We have a ‘no outside food’ policy.”

Dad: “Bulls***. I’m just trying to have a meal with my family and you’re stopping us from that. Let me talk to your manager!”

The manager comes and tells him the same thing.

Dad: “This is bulls***!” *To me and my siblings.* “Don’t eat any of the food; we’re leaving.”

My dad forces us to leave the restaurant, and on our way out, I see the “No outside food” sign.

Me: “Daddy, look! The sign says, ‘No outside food’!”

Dad: “SHUT UP!”

I’m at a restaurant with the option to order at your table through a mobile device. While browsing the menu, I see an entry labeled “Brunch Special” with no other description. Curious, I flag down the nearest staff person, a busser.

Me: “Hi, can you tell me what the brunch special is?”

Busser: “Oh, uh, I don’t think we do brunch specials here. I’m not sure what that is. We do have something that we’re only serving today, though.”

Me: “Great. What is it?”

Busser: “I don’t know. I’ll find your waitress.”

The waitress comes over. I repeat my question about the brunch special.

Waitress: “I don’t know what that is on the menu. We don’t do brunch specials. There is something that’s only available today. Would you like to hear about that?”

Me: “Sure, yes.”

The not-brunch-special-special turned out to be pineapple upside-down pancakes, and yes, they were only available that day, for brunch.