The Ending Is All Rapped Up

I’m working the front of house. I’m dressed smartly as the restaurant is reasonably formal — mid- to high-end food and prices. As our system is down, I’m carrying a clipboard with the reserved list, so it’s pretty obvious that I’m working.

A woman my age walks in alone; no one seems to be following her.

Me: “Good morning. Do you have a reservation?”

Woman: “Oh, no. Do I need one?”

Me: “We do have some tables available. How many are dining today?”

Woman: “Well, it’s—”

A guy dressed in a sideways cap, tracksuit, and very bright trainers (sneakers) walks in and speaks to me.

Guy: “Hey, what you talking to her for?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: *Sighs* “He works here. He was trying to find us a table.”

Guy: “Hmm, I know what these guys are like, though.”

Me: “Was it just you two today?”

Guy: “Yeah, find us a booth.”

Me: “We don’t have ‘booths’ but I can certainly find you somewhere private.”

I stuck them way back away from view. I checked on them. The guy was on his phone and it all felt very awkward. We got busy quickly, and I was asked to move on a guy out front who was disturbing our guests

Surprise, surprise, it was the guy from earlier. I could smell what he was smoking from a mile off. I eventually managed to get him to move around the corner, but he didn’t go without a fight.

I managed to miss the theatrics, but apparently, he stormed out before the bill was paid. I checked on the woman he was with, and she was pretty calm.

Turns out this was some sort of last chance/reconciliation dinner. She told me she had some amazing-sounding job offer out of the country, but he wanted to stay to work on his rap career.

I bought her a dessert. She left a tip and I wished her well.

A couple of weeks later, we got a card through the door thanking me for the support and a small note that she was on the way to the airport… alone.

I hope she does great.