Rich Dick

Many things make many horrible people feel entitled, but few are as powerful as money.

A few nights ago, I waited on Dick and his by-the-hour girlfriend Shasha. Not wanting to understate his wealth and predilections for the finest, he made a show of demanding a bigger booth, larger menus (because restaurants print menus in a variety of font sizes), an adjustment to the temperature, and a change in music. I'd never seen Dick or Shasha before, but my cowardly little manager was familiar. She acquiesced to every snap of Dick's fingers, ultimately driving my anger to a place it's never been in all my restaurant years.

Our featured entree was a serving of three beef tenderloin medallions. They're quite popular, and by the time Dick and Shasha arrived, we had one serving remaining.

In stark contrast to Dick and Shasha, two polite, no-fuss women were at the table next to them, also in my section. One of the ladies ordered the last tenderloin, minutes before Dick made up his mind to order the same thing. Minutes later, when I told him we were out, he interrupted me and pointed to the woman in the neighboring booth.

"I heard her, she ordered one," he said in an accusatory tone. 

"Yes," I said, "she ordered the last one."

Though she was mid-sentence, Dick leaned over and interrupted his neighbor. No "Excuse me," no "Hi," no "Sorry to interrupt." 

Just "I'll buy your dinner if you order something besides the tenderloin."

Annoyed that he'd interrupted her, she declined his offer with a chill and continued her conversation. This did not please Dick. 

"Really?" he continued.

"Yeah, really," she said.

"No offense, but a steak that nice will be wasted on you," he said. "Unbelievable..."

"Oh fuck off," she said calmly, then paid him no more mind. 

"Anyway what can I get for you?" I said with a smile.

"I can tell you think this is funny," he said. 

"I really don't," I replied. "I'd just like to do my job and take your order."

"Send over the manager," he commanded.

"Please," I replied.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"Send over the manager...please," I said. 

With that, Dick stood up and found the manager himself. Shasha and I enjoyed a few quiet moments before the manager asked me for a word. Apparently, he told her I was "harassing" them. And despite my side of the story, despite the neighbor speaking up in my defense, despite all the clear signs that this asshole was an asshole, the manager sucked his ego dry, letting him know just how much we appreciate his business and that a new server would be brought in to make sure his was the experience he deserved.

She also pleaded with the chef to miraculously make one more tenderloin entree, which he did only when she stroked his ego, too.

I was thrilled to be rid of Dick. When I dropped off the bill to the neighbors, he called to me, "Hey, I'd like to talk to you." I walked right past and stared right through him. Later, while the manager was sulking at the bar, wondering why everyone hates her, I helped myself in the kitchen. I helped myself in bar storage. I fed my belly and my rage, and I didn't care if I got caught. 

People who act like Dick will never learn a lesson because people like my manager will always nourish their entitlement.

Well fuck that. I'll just counteract that by being an even bigger bitch.

Comments

[rick hough]

"I'll just counteract that by being an even bigger bitch."
Don't feel you need to let us know how that works out for you.

[anne marie in philly]

what a dick! the customer, not you. and your manager is a pussy to kiss his self-important ass.