…bringing in outside food.
A guy comes in to meet five others already seated. He is carrying a soda and paper bag from one of the carry-out Tex-Mex places nearby.
“Hi. I am here to meet my friends. They’re already here.”
He pauses as he sees me and my seater staring, speechless, at his over-stuffed carryout bag. “Oh, yeah. I’m allergic to everything in your restaurant and have to bring in my own food.”
To which we wonder–allergic to our soda, too? Wow. Some allergy, you poor thing.
“I am a regular. I shouldn’t have to be on the wait list. Can’t I get a table now? I’m a regular. A REGULAR!”
Thank you, ma’am. You’re a regular. Pager?
…lying about a reservation.
“Uh, yes. Reservation for Linda. For right now.”
“Linda, what is your last name?”
“Huh? My last name? The girl I talked to said I didn’t have to give nothing but my first name. Linda, the reservation is under Linda.”
“Linda, we always require a first and last name as well as other information to have a reservation put in the book. We are on a short wait right now, but I would be happy to…”
“You calling me a liar? I spoke to that girl this morning at 11 a.m. and she said all I needed to give was my first name. Linda. That’s me. I have a reservation.” She turns to her friend. “I know what that girl told me when I made this reservation, and I didn’t have to give my last name!”
“Certainly, Linda. One of our hosts will be happy to show you and your guest to a table in just a moment.”
Liars. They are beginning to take their toll on The Gal.
…being in the wrong place.
Two very worried men in suits lugging multiple briefcases and computer bags plead for help from the podium.
“We are not supposed to be here. We went to the address of the restaurant we were supposed to go to. It’s a pharmacy! Please help us! We need to find our restaurant right away. It has to be near here. This is an incredibly important business meeting! Please, do you know it?”
Amazingly, I knew exactly where they needed to be. Amazingly, they said “please”–twice.
…an attempt to ask for a table for two.
A gentleman holds up his two hands, says nothing, but gestures with two fingers on each hand as though he is putting a phrase in quote marks. He does this repeatedly as I bite my lip to keep from laughing and screaming at the same time. The Look provides no relief. He keeps doing it. Finally, I give in.
“Table for two, or is that four, sir?”
And it’s only Thursday.