We Had Reservations About This… And Then It Got Worse

I’m a woman in my early twenties, and I work as a bartender in a restaurant. It’s not a formal restaurant. We’re very casual, although we still get some “bougie” guests on occasion.

We work until 12:00. Last Saturday, a group came in at around 11:00 pm. They had made a reservation for eleven adults and one child for a small wedding dinner. They came in about an hour late without having called in advance to tell us.

As the evening went on and the alcohol kept going, they became more and more obnoxious. After their dinner, the mother of the bride took the child — who was around two or three — around the restaurant playing the “Oh, wow, look at that!” game. Things started going downhill when she walked up to our open kitchen and pointed at the kamado grill standing in the kitchen.

Bride’s Mother: “Oooh, look at that beehive!”

The kid squealed in excitement and started reaching for it.

Meanwhile, I was standing there minding my business, shining glasses and such, when the lady casually started walking toward the swinging door leading to the kitchen. I ran up to her and explained how she OBVIOUSLY wasn’t allowed to walk in the kitchen, how it was a health and safety violation, and so on.

Bride’s Mother: “Oh, it’s no biggie. We just wanna look at the beehive and we’ll be right out.”

What? 

Me: “Ma’am, you are not going in there. And it’s not a beehive; it’s a hot grill!”

The kid started getting upset, and the woman started getting snappy at me.

Bride’s Mother: “It’s not a big deal! Just let us in to check it out. [Kid] is interested to see it!”

I stood between her and the door, not letting her in, and this woman tried squeezing in from the side. I gently pushed her back by her shoulders. She snapped.

Bride’s Mother: *Yelling* “You assaulted me! You have no right to touch me. We are paying thousands of euros to eat here, and we should be allowed to at least walk around the place!”

Me: “You’re welcome to walk around the seating area but absolutely not around the kitchen or any other staff-only areas.”

Her new son-in-law came over and got her to go back to their table.

I was still standing there flabbergasted. How can a woman of her age not understand the concept of not being allowed to walk in a restaurant kitchen like it’s her own, with a child nonetheless?