Wines And Dines On Your Dimes

(My wife and I are having dinner at a restaurant. While we both order at the same time, my wife receives her food while I receive nothing. We continually call our waitress down to find out what is happening, and she insists it is being taken care of. Because I don’t want my wife to wait, I let her finish. After an hour and a half, our waitress comes with our bill.)

Waitress: “I hope you have enjoyed your meal.” *walking away*

Me: “Hold on.” *looking at the bill and seeing my order and a substantial tip* “Where is my order?”

Waitress: “Your order? Well, surely you’ve eaten it.”

Wife: “No, he hasn’t.”

Waitress: “I distinctly remember bringing it out to you. If you could just please pay the bill at the front, thank you.”

Me: “I’m sorry, no. Could I please see the manager?”

(The waitress brings the manager and I explain the situation.)

Manager: “Well, this is the most ridiculous scam I’ve ever heard. Do you seriously expect me to believe it?”

Me: “Does it look like I’ve eaten?” *gesturing to my side of the table, which has been left virtually untouched since it was laid out* “I haven’t even been given my wine!”

Manager: “Well, it certainly does. Please excuse me for a moment.”

(The manager goes into the kitchen and I hear a loud clattering of pans and someone screaming, “WHAT, AGAIN?” The door bursts open, and a large man storms up to me. I’m secretly praying for my life, as I’m expecting to him to send me to Hell, but as he approaches the table he turns and faces our waitress.)

Chef: “All right, what did you do with it?”

Waitress: *blushing* “I don’t know what you mean!”

Chef: “Really?” *sniffs at her mouth* “You stink of merlot.”

(That’s the wine I ordered. Our waitress covers her mouth while the chef walks to the waiting station and starts tearing it apart. He comes back with a plate of a partially-consumed meal.)

Chef: “Sir, could I please ask what you ordered?”

(I show him the receipt.)

Chef: *to the waitress* “I don’t know who you think you are, but this is unacceptable. You’re fired.”

Waitress: “YOU CAN’T FIRE ME! MY DADDY’S THE MANAGER!”

Chef: “Really? Well, let me introduce you to the owner: me. You–” *to another waiter* “–take this gentleman’s order again, and everything is free of charge. I’ll get ‘daddy’ to take her home.”

(Our entire meal was free, although I didn’t eat in the restaurant; we were given it to go. The restaurant lost two staff that night: the manager and his daughter. We were offered free meals there in the future, but sadly, we moved out of the city a couple of months later and never ate there again. This was the first and last time something like this had ever happened to us.)