I still marvel at entitled people in restaurants. With a world going to shit from so many angles, you'd think they'd have some perspective about their place and privilege. But no. Instead I get to serve them overpriced fish and pretentious wine.
Enter Alissa and Greg, a douchey-rich couple from some horrible place in Orange County. She strutted into the booth with a wiggle and her nose in the air. His shit-eating rich boy grin never left his face.
In a grating vocal fry, Alissa informed me that "last time we ate here, we had a bad experience with an unhelpful server." She flashed me the "I mean business" look." I responded with a painfully fake smile and could only muster," "Okay."
"We expect to be wow'd," she said as if I'd failed to register the severity of her entitlement.
"Okay," I said while biting my lower lip with my top four teeth.
"Please let the manager know the Alperts here," she said.
My first instinct, of course, was to go code bitch on her. But with the pervasive fear of firing from a bad Yelp review, I persisted in my painfully fake theatrics. At the very least, I needed to assess the situation with management.
Fortunately for me, management that evening was our lazy, indifferent, passive aggressive assistant manager. I finally found him out back, chain-smoking between two dumpsters, hoping to hide.
I told him the Alperts requested the pleasure of his company. "Oh fuck," he said. I realized he was smoking a joint, not a cigarette, and of course I made him pass the grass.
He brought me up to speed. Apparently, Alissa was pissed last time when informed she couldn't order a "half entree at half price." She played the Yelp card, threatening a bad review, until our general manager talked her out of it and asked her to give us another chance. This was to be our big moment of redemption. To wash away the weed, I pulled out my flask full of medicine and took a swig of Sapphire. I shared with the assistant manager, whose eyes were as red as Alissa's trashy candy apple lipstick.
I returned, determined to survive the Alperts and appease them. Also, I was flying high so I could only be so bothered. They ordered cocktails, a Jack and ginger for him, and our "nicest sparkling sweet wine" for her. Minutes later, she returned the bubbly because it was flat, I imagine much like her chest before those two casaba melons were sown in.
I tolerated the complaint, once again sitting on the urge to go code bitch. The bartender tasted the wine, it's fine, I tasted it, asked to taste it again, I knew it tasted fine the first time, but he still opened a new bottle. Her vocal fry went up ten octaves when she feigned gratitude as I brought the new glass, which met her approval.
They ordered; steak for him, fish for her. The food arrived, and while he complimented his entree, she frowned when I asked about hers.
"Mmmmmmmmm," she whined while squinting. "It's just kinda funky, I'm not feeling it. The chef could do better. Salmon isn't that difficult, you know what I mean?"
"Mmmm. Mmm hmmm?" I replied. I once again remained patient, a Herculean task for which I would reward myself the next day with a shopping spree, a spa spree, and calling out sick with a flu I don't have.
"Actually can you send the chef over?" she asked.
"I'll ask," I said.
"Abso-fucking-lutely not," the narcissistic chef declared seconds later. That was that.
"I'm so sorry, he's unable to leave the kitchen at the moment," I informed her. I was high. I was hungry. I was trying not to giggle.
"Well then unfortunately for you I'll need to see the general manager," she said in her own code bitch.
"Okaaaaaaaaay," I sang. I woke the assistant manager and informed him of the request for his audience from the Alperts. I twirled, too.
As anticipated, his response did not appease Alissa. Granted, his response would have bothered me too ("What do you want me to do about it?"). Greg snapped for the bill, they paid, leaving no tip...even though I MADE MYSELF BE NICE TO THEM AND SAT ON SO MANY FUNNY, BITCHY THINGS I COULD HAVE SAID.
Trust me, that will never happen again, no matter how high and happy I am.