We had a large group (20 people, on two tables of 10) the other night, and their servers did an admirable job of taking care of all their demands. And they were demanding, rearranging every dish on the menu with more substitutions than a hockey game.
When it came time for entrees to be served (we were all shocked they actually ordered some, and didn’t make a meal out of salads and appetizers) the server at one of the tables made the unfortunate mistake of forgetting to order the Veal Chop for one particularly pretentious woman (we had already nicknamed her “Divalicious”); and of course it was ordered Medium Well. You got it: 15 minute fire time, at a minimum, to get her another one. She has refused to accept my server’s apology and her offer of anything else on the menu. She is now in full-on Righteous Indignation Mode, and basking in the attention she is getting from her table-mates. She waves her server away, refusing to even speak to her. So, my number is called, and I had to go over and try to make things right.
I apologized profusely for her server’s honest mistake, and gave her the bad news about how long her Chop would take. Miss Thang rolls her eyes, big time, and asks to see the menu. She orders the Trout. I thank her for her “patience”, tell her it will be on the house, and we get it out and on the table in under 3 minutes. I go back after a bit, apologize again, and make sure she is happy with her dish. She is wolfing it down and nods her approval, without even looking up. She is nowhere near the last person eating when the table is cleared, and her plate is literally licked clean.
When it comes time for the bill (separate checks, of course) my waitress comes over and says that the woman is now refusing to pay for her one drink (which she nursed for the entire 90 minutes they were at the table after sending back her first choice because it “wasn’t pretty enough”) AND she’s refusing to pay the service charge, saying “The Manager said it was on him…” So, a free entreé wasn’t enough? Whatever. I comp out the rest of her check, and my server is just laughing because this woman is being such a ridiculous caricature.
So, as they are leaving, Chef and I are at the podium chatting; and as the group is heading out the door, I start doing my “Thank yous and Good Nights” to the rest of the party who, truthfully, weren’t all that much trouble after we got past the ordering phase. Miss Thang stops by, and I was so irritated with her I didn’t even make eye contact. She reaches into the dish of Jolly Ranchers we have at the podium, and starts fishing through them, searching for the Sour Cherry ones that were apparently the only ones “pretty” enough for her. She drops one, two, three, four, five of them into her knockoff Louis Vitton bag. She finally notices me standing there and looks up. I look her dead in the eyes and say “Haven’t you had enough free stuff for one night?” Chef bursts out laughing so hard he almost choked. I spin on my heels and leave her standing there, in mid jaw-drop.
At what point in their lives do these women suddenly become such self-absorbed pains in the ass? You know that quite possibly they were once very sweet little girls, with pigtails and all that crap. So, do they just wake up one morning and say to themselves, “Okay. Time to start acting like a bitch”? Or is it a long apprenticeship, watching Mom and aunts and sisters put on the Bitch Coat and wear it? “Don’t worry baby, some day you’ll get to be a bitch too…” Reality shows on MTV and E Network serve as their training videos; and then they test out their skills on Dad and probably their teachers. Building on these minor successes, they soon become the full-fledged real deal; and now no one is safe, from cab drivers to store clerks to the counter guy at BK. Well, check that shit at the door, girlfriend. I ain’t playin’…