Points for Commiserating with Your Waiter

This is Calvin to the whole Scarlet Crustacean World: Shrimpmonger alert!  Sound the alarm.  We've got a two-top of raging Shrimpmongers on the lose.  This is a code twelve - they are to be considered frustrating and ignorant, so maintain a safe distance.  Over and out.

Ah, yes, I thought, striding up to my table at the back of the restaurant, here are some happy ladies.  I was being sarcastic with myself - See? I treat everyone equally, myself included - because these ladies, if they can be called such, wore the most disgruntled frowns I think I have ever seen.  It's like they had gone to plastic surgeons, and when asked if they wanted face lifts, they said, 'No you ***hole, I want my face dropped!'  The surgeons undoubtedly figured it was impossible to make their frowns even deeper, and I'd be willing to bet they had to consult at least three or four more before finding someone to physically etch disgust into their faces for them so that they wouldn't have to continue exerting effort on showing their hate for the world; they could do it while sleeping. Such happy guests have I, this shall be a wonderfully simplistic, simply wonderful meal.  I wished I'd had chain mail under my crisp white shirt.
"Hello, ladies.  How are you today?"
"Go get me a strawberry lemonade. She wants an iced tea, no sweetener. And step on it." 
You want me to step on your drinks?  Not a problem.  I'll be right back with the squashed, seafood- and dirt-ridden remains of your glasses and a random mixture of formerly safe liquids for your enjoyment.  "Sure, I'll be right back with your drinks.  Before I head over there, though, allow me to explain some of our newer menu selections."  Oh, what?  You didn't think I was going to just bolt over to get your drinks immediately, did you?  I have things to discuss with you ladies.  These menu items demand descriptions elegant in imagery and eloquent in delivery. 
I ran through the promotions, taking care not to speak too quickly so they could savor every sensational word.  Then I went to get their drinks.

"Here you are, " I said, laying their drinks in front of them.  "Are you ready to o--"
"I want a make-your-meal deal with the salmon and the fried shrimp and the scampi."  She frowned at me (purposely?) as I jotted down her selection. I think I'll call her Frowny. "How big is that salmon?"
"It's the standard half portion.  The same size you'd get if you ordered the lunch salmon, for instance."  I gave her the weight in ounces.
"Whatever that means.  It better be big enough, that's all I can say."  I sincerely doubt that's all you can say. She looked at her friend.  "You go on, now."
"Yeah, um." The friend rubbed her second chin with a meaty hand.  She shall be Chins.  "I guess I'll get me the steak and shrimp.  Make that steak well done.  Very well done, I don't want no pink in my meat."
"All right," I said, and repeated their meal orders back to them to ensure I had written it correctly.  They each ordered a Caesar salad with extra dressing, so I said I'd be back with those in a moment.

While they had been ordering (me around) I had had another party seated at the booth behind theirs, so I went to greet them before fetching the Shrimpmongers' salads.  Three kind young women, probably in their mid-twenties, smiled back as I welcomed them and introduced myself.  I took their drink orders, with which they were ready, and went off to get the salads and the new table's drinks.

"I asked for extra dressing."  Frowny was glaring at me again. 
"I brought you extra dressing; it's right here."  I pointed to the two ramekins of extra dressing I had laid on the table.
"Oh. Well that won't be enough.  Go get me another one." 
Right away, Miss DeVille. "Of course.  And I'll bring some more bread, too."  They had scarfed all the bread on the table while we were talking.  I couldn't be sure I had even seen them put it in their mouths, let alone chew it.
They nodded and ate, Frowny twisting the corners of her mouth down while she chewed her salad and Chins shoveling leaves into her mouth as fast as she could stab them with the fork.  I turned away and stopped over at my new three-top.  "Here are your drinks, ladies."  As I passed the sodas around, I heard the girl closest to me on the left - we'll call her Smiles, for her personality seemed the exact opposite of Frowny - shushing her friend to her left.  The friend, Shana, had been whispering something when I arrived.
"Oh, the diet was for her," Shana said, and passed the drink I'd given her to the third girl, Flirt, across the table.  Flirt looked at me and blinked her big brown eyes a couple of times.
"You forgot my order already?  I thought I was kind of memorable."
"I, uh..." Truthfully, I'd forgotten which of them had ordered which drink because the Shrimpmongers in the booth next to them had completely wrenched my attention away with their claws of doom as soon as I'd jotted the orders down.  "I'm sorry.  It won't happen again."  I widened my eyes and put my right fist against the middle of my chest as a promissory sign.
She laughed.  "No problem.  But we are ready to place our meal order, if your memory's ready for that."
"Oh, no worries," I replied.  "I have a pen and a pad."
I took their relatively simplistic order down - when Smiles wanted to make a substitution, she said she was sorry as if the substitution was going to ruin my day, though I assured her it was no big deal - and then I proceeded back to the alley.  Once there, I retrieved drinks for my third table, salads and bread for the three-top of really nice girls, extra dressing and more bread for the Shrimpmongers, and punched in the three-top's order.
"How ya doin', Cal?" Pam asked me while I was traying up the salads.
"I'm okay, thanks.  Just getting stuff together for my tables.  These Shrim-- this one table has me running around something awful.  You know how it can be."  I stopped myself from saying 'Shrimpmongers' to my manager, simply to avoid that conversation.  It's hard to explain, having coined a term with which to label unsavory, uncaring, selfish guests, that the label is applied retroactively rather than stereotypically.  It's also a conversation I didn't have time for, if I didn't want Frowny DeVille to try to bite my head off and to use the blood for dressing since I didn't bring the second ramekin of Caesar in time.
"Yep.  Well, you'll be all right, I'm sure."
"Thanks.  I'm sure I will."  I smiled brightly and whisked myself over to my tables again.
I performed what we in the waiting business call 'silent service' and simply left the extra dressing and bread on the Shrimpmongers' table as I passed.  I, uh, didn't want to disturb their conversation.  Proceeding to the next booth, I dropped the salads and bread for my three-top and asked if everything was all right so far.
"It really is, Cal, thanks!" 
"Yeah, this is perfect!"
"You're awesome."
Oh, yeah.  I aim to please.  I promised to return with their meal as soon as it was ready.

Minutes later I walked the Shrimpmongers' food to them.  "Here's your make-your-meal, and here's your steak and shrimp.  Is the steak done all right for you?" I looked at Chins expectantly and she dutifully cut into her steak.  She opened her lips to say something but was sharply interrupted by Frowny.
"What is this?!"
"What's... what, ma'am?"  I can't read your mind, lady.  Yes, I'm a psychic waiter, but if you recall, severe Shrimpmonger hate-radiation has negative effects on my psychic waiter powers.
"This."  She pointed at her salmon.
"That appears to be the salmon, ma'am.  You did ask for salmon, fried shrimp, and shrimp scampi, yes?"  She's going to tell me, 'No,' that she didn't ask for that, that she had ordered lobster and I'm such a stupidhead idiotman with my dumbwaiter moronicness (and I will have to explain to her that, even if I was a stupidhead idiotman with moronic tendencies, there was no physical way I could also be a dumbwaiter).  I thought wrong.  That's not what she said.  Instead, she said:
"This ain't no salmon.  This is like a bite of salmon.  This is not supposed to be this small, is it?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am; as I said when you ordered, the portions in the make-your-meal are standard half-portions designated by weight. Would you like to place an order for some more salmon or something?"  I smiled daggers at her.
"No.  This is ridiculous.  If I'm paying sixteen or seventeen dollars I'm gonna get more than just a tiny piece of fish.  I don't want to order anything else, I want you to fix this, right now."

I waved my magic wand and her salmon grew three sizes bigger.  Her heart remained three sizes too small.

Okay, that didn't actually happen.  Instead, I used my most reassuring, calm-inducing voice and said, "I'm sorry you're displeased with your meal; I'll go inform my manager and see what we can do for you."
"No, I don't want you to get a manager.  I want you to fix it, and I want you to do it now.  This is ridiculous," she repeated.  

I bit back the diatribe about hierarchical structure in corporate society, about business protocols, about decorum when dining out, about personal hygiene... I just swallowed all the venomous words I felt compelled to vomit all over her and her meal, and rehashed the situation - "I will be right back after I speak to a manager for you" - before ignoring her commands to stop and striding into the alley to see Pam about the situation. 

"Pam, I need to speak with you for a moment, please."  She was in the middle of helping the A/C tray up food, but she immediately gravitated to a place out of the way of passing servers to hear what was going on.  I briefed her on the Shrimpmonger situation.
"So what do they want?" she asked.
"I have no idea."
"What do you mean, you have no idea?"
"I mean she won't tell me.  She said she wanted me to 'fix' it, but wouldn't say how, and then told me specifically not to involve a manager.  Statements like that send up red flags for me.  Don't you agree?"
"Yeah, definitely."  She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, as she does almost all the time.  This time she looked thoughtful. Though, I might have misread thoughtful from implosive exasperation.  "Well, I don't know what she expects, but I'm going to go find out." 
"Thanks.  I appreciate it."  Truly, I did.  Pam's a great manager - she gets things done, she works hard, and she cares about her employees.  That, and she's got tons of experience in this business, so she's handled insane people like these before.  Better her than me.

I took this respite from Crazytown to drop the check at my third table who had only wanted appetizers after all, and drop the three-top's meals.
"Hey, ladies!  Miss me?"
"We sure did!" Smiles was smiling at me. 
Shana laughed.  "Well, we really were just hoping to see the food." 
"It's right here.  The seafood alfredo for you..." I passed her dish to her.
"The steak and shrimp for you..." I set the plate in front of Flirt.
Her eyes lit up.  "This looks great!"
"Excellent - just cut into it and make sure it's done right for me, please."  She did so and nodded.
"And... here you go."  I set down the chicken entree for Smiles and asked them if everything looked okay.
"It's perfect, thanks, Calvin," said Smiles.  I had set my hand on the table casually when I asked if the food was all right.  I was about to walk away when I felt a hand come to rest atop mine.  "Hey, Cal," Smiles whispered.
I raised my eyebrows and nodded.  Yeah?
"Are they seriously still complaining?"  She furtively pointed behind her with her thumb, right at the booth where the Shrimpmongers sat.  Funny, I had tuned them out and not even realized, but now that she said something, I could hear Frowny opening her frown enough to issue forth a continuous stream of verbal condemnation.
I turned back to Smiles and nodded again.
"Wow.  That's ridiculous."  I didn't miss the play on Frowny's own words, and I smiled at Smiles.  Shana elbowed Smiles and shushed her, clearly worried that Frowny and Chins would hear them.  Smiles continued anyway.  "Did they even look at the menu?  They're complaining about how freaking small the portions are here.  One, that's crazy; the portions are more than big enough.  And two, the menu tells you exactly what you're gonna get when you order."
I could not have said it better myself.
"And," Flirt cut in, "You explained it to them, anyway.  I heard you."
I'm glad someone was paying attention, I thought.  "Heh, yeah.  It's all right.  But I'm glad your meals are all right.  Let me know if you need anything else, okay?"
"We will," said Flirt.  "But we're good right now, thanks." 

I met Pam in the alley to find out what she had worked out with the Shrimpmongers.
"She wanted a steak."
"Oh.  Well, that's not too crazy.  I mean, she only ordered an entirely different meal originally.  Of course she wanted steak, now."
"No, that's not so bad.  But she wanted it for free.  I'm not charging her for the make-your-meal since she decided she didn't want it, but I'm charging her for the steak.  It's not your fault, Calvin; she just wanted to get a free meal out of us and she's going to do whatever she can."
"So what's the new order?"
"Steak and shrimp.  Steak well done.  Mashed potatoes."
"Oh, so exactly what her friend has."
"Yep."  Pam narrowed her eyes at me.  "It's not your fault.  It'll be all right."
"Uh, Pam?  I'm fine.  Truly.  Amused, a little annoyed, definitely exasperated, but I'm not all broken up over this.  Some people are just..."
I struggled to find an appropriate word - appropriately descriptive and appropriate for the workplace.  Pam saved me the trouble.
"Exactly."
I returned to my tables to bring drink refills and check in.
"Can I bring you ladies anything?"  I directed my attention to Frowny.  "Would you like some more bread while you wait for your new meal?"
"No, I just want my steak."  She looked as sullen as a vampire and as angry as the Hulk.
"I'm sorry; I'll have that out to you as soon as it's ready.  The kitchen wants to ensure that it's done properly and to your liking."
Chins slurped down another huge bite of her steak.  Half her meal was already gone.
Frowny just kept looking down at the table in front of her.  "I've never complained at a restaurant in my life.  This is ridiculous." Not the most inventive motto, but I guess it works.
"I'm sorry," I repeated, "but if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know."
"I told you what I wanted, and I didn't want you goin' off and gettin' your manager, but..." her voice trailed off, dissolving into a string of obscenity-laced tongue-lashings.  Then she turned her head entirely to her left, away from me and toward the wall.
"If there's anything else you'd like, you just let me know, okay?"
She continued to face the wall. 
"Ma'am?"
She remained turned.
Are you serious, lady?  I haven't encountered immaturity and outright rudeness this thick since I was a teenager and my three younger sisters were on the same monthly cycle.

I shrugged and moved on to the three-top of girls who I knew were having fun despite these women, and with whom I knew I could share a much needed laugh again.
"So, I trust your food continues to taste good, ya?"
"Mmmh," Shana began, downing a bite she had been working on when I approached, "totally!"
"Uh..." said Flirt.  Her voice had a low tone and a hint of hesitation.  She raised her eyebrows and slightly tilted her head, in a subtle motion toward the booth behind them.
I covertly shifted my eyes and saw, in my periphery, that Frowny was actively making fun of Shana's enthusiasm.  Making exaggerated faces.  Waving her hands, mouthing the word "totally" over and over again.
"What are they doing?  What is going on behind me?" Smiles was not looking exceptionally smiley.

"Don't look," Shana said.  I could tell who the voice of reason was in this group, and boy, was I grateful for her. Smiles started to turn around anyway.
"Hey, we should totally say something to them.  They shouldn't be so mean to waiters, or anyone.  And they're offensive to other customers, right?"  Stacy was clearly looking for retribution.  Part of me wanted to see where it would go.  The other part of me still enjoys getting paid.
"C'mon, Stacy, we don't wanna get Cal in trouble," said Flirt.  So Smiles had a name, too.  "Besides, they're just being stupid."
I helped Flirt out and switched gears.  "So, you never answered me earlier - what brings you girls here today?" 
"Well," said Shana, "basically, we were out using gift cards we still had from this winter and we thought we'd get some dinner here 'cause we all love this place."
"Oh, that's awesome!  Glad you decided to come here," I said honestly.
"Hehe, us too."  Flirt blushed.
As all of this was happening in hushed voices, I could hear the conversation the Shrimpmongers were having a few feet away from me, as well.  The crux of it was this: Frowny was still ticked off that her steak wasn't already ready for her, though she had requested it be done well, and Chins had already finished her meal.  Frowny was also bothered by the fact that I wasn't put off when she blatantly ignored me.  Score one for Calvin, killin' 'em with kindness!
I smiled, reminded the three-top that they could let me or another server know if they needed anything, and went back to the alley.  They were really nice to me the whole time they were there, and they get extra points for commiserating with the waiter.  I was all over their table; they never had to ask for drink refills or extra sauce, and though I didn't interrupt them or hover around them while they did their thing, I managed to be in range whenever they needed me - which wasn't often, because they weren't needy, demanding Shrimpmongers.

My manager brought out the new meal for Frowny when it came out.   She told the manager it was fine and waited for me to approach the table again to check on them before telling me she wanted it boxed up right now - she didn't want to waste any more of her time at this place. 

When everything was boxed up, I left the check - which I had ready - on the table for them and returned to the three-top to see if the girls wanted dessert.
"No, I don't think I can fit another bite.  But... I can't believe they're still b****ing about this.  Like, why did you even go out to a restaurant if you're just gonna be in a bad mood the whole time, no matter what they do to please you?"  Smiles -- ahem, Stacy -- really empathized with me.
"I'm glad you all are having fun," I said, changing the subject again.  "Seriously, this table is a breath of fresh air.  You can come sit in my section anytime."
"Haha, we totally will," said Flirt, "but maybe we could sit behind some different people.  Or no people."
"And maybe you'll be a little more subtle about flirting with the waiter, Jamie," muttered Smiles a bit too loudly.
I courteously pretended not to hear that, thanked them again for being awesome, and thanked the restaurant gods that the Shrimpmongers were taking up the check I'd left and getting their money out to leave.


I thanked the restaurant gods too soon.


They weren't getting their money out.  They were pulling the check out of the check binder and scrutinizing it with scientific intensity.  "Calvin!"  Frowny beckoned me.
I mentally hung my head in resignation and walked over to the table.
"What is all this about?"

It took me a full ten minutes to explain the itemized check to her - I had to physically do the math for her on a piece of paper before she'd believe me that the computer was correct in its calculations.  No joke.  And the whole time she complained about how she shouldn't have to be paying for any of it, anyway.

And I did all of that hard work... for free.