Lady who knows nothing: My food is taking entirely too long!!
Server: I’m sorry, it’s just that well done steaks take longer than 5 minutes to prepare.
Lady who knows nothing: This is unacceptable! I work in the restaurant industry! I know how things work!
Server: Great! Then you will surely understand why I’m placing this muzzle over your mouth.
Ugh! It’s already bad enough that you’re complaining, but the fact that you say “I’m in the industry”, makes it even worse. You of all people should know better than to complain and that tells me you obviously have no clue about how the “industry” works. Now please step into my canon so I can help you back to the parking lot.
“The only specials we have tonight are the ones I just mentioned” – The only specials we have tonight are the ones I just mentioned you dumb ass.
You’re sitting at the table and your baby starts crying. Instead of carrying him far, far, far, far, away, like you should, you just sit there and shoosh him and tell him ” It’s ok, mommy is here”, as if he can understand what you’re saying.
NOBODY wants to hear a crying baby. There’s nothing cute or fun about that. Baby rule when eating in public: Don’t do it! Remember, silence is golden, but duct tape is silver.
You and your date get sat at a table for 2 and of course you have to sit side by side. After your food arrives, you spend the rest of the meal wondering why your plates keep sliding off of the table. How romantic.
Many tables only have enough room for one person to sit on each side. So while you’re embarrassing yourselves, bumping elbows with each other and having to constantly hold the plate with one hand, just remember, theres a whole other side of the table just wating for you.
Server: Here’s your dessert.
Customer who thinks he’s funny: This is fat free right? Hahaha!!
Server: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I’ll be right back with your check.
Everytime I hear this, I feel like Im getting a glimpse into what Hell must be like.
“Thank you so much for coming in” – Thank you so much for finally leaving.
You order one of our signature dishes then proceed to alter the recipe by adding and subtracting some of the ingredients that are in it because you think you’re the next Gordon Ramsay. After you take the first bite, your face is overcome with a look of disgust. Way to go.
In case you didn’t know, most restaurants put a lot of thought and effort into deciding what kind of dishes they are going to put on the menu, and in case you didnt know, they put a lot of thought and effort into what kind of ingredients that they are going to put into each dish, and in case you didnt know, it’s extremely annoying when you alter anything while you’re ordering food, and in case you didn’t know, I’ve just added some of my own ingredients to your dish too.
You have a party of 2 and are wanting to sit down at a larger table that seats 6 people . . . . .
No.
As I’m placing the salad that you ordered in front of you, you say “Uh, you forgot the dressing”. I reach back to my tray to grab the dressing and stare at you for 3 minutes before putting it down.
I’m not an octopus. Wait until everything is down on the table before you ask for something. Soda drinkers, don’t ask for a straw right away, be patient. Ice tea drinkers, don’t ask for sugar right away, be patient. Complimentary bread eaters, dont ask for butter right away, be patient, and since we’re talking about free bread, don’t ask for more than one basket refill. It’s annoying and I’m going to take longer to come back to your table because you’re going to fill up on bread and then you’re going to ask me to box up the food you ordered because you’re too full, but you’ll still want to see our dessert menu because you still have one more notch left on your fat ass belt that you can still use.Then to cap it all off, you’ll ask me for one more side of bread and ask to have that boxed up to go as well. Please, just die already.
I finish taking your tables order when you lean over to the side and whisper to me, “It’s our anniversary” (pointing to some sweaty, overweight husband who definately doesn’t need a slice of whatever fattening desert, laced with crisco, that we offer for anniversaries). I say to you “Congratulations. It must be very special since you’re trying to hit me up for a free dessert.”
Honey, let’s spare no expense on our 10 year anniversary. I think we can get a free dessert at Dennys if we’re lucky.
restaurantbastards 