The Most Abrasive Man In the World Award

Mr. Rude from my last post was practically angel compared to the abrasive racist I waited on today.  I think this horrible man wins the prize of the most unpleasant person I've ever waited on, perhaps even met.  

This man and his young son were the second table I had today (not a wonderful way to start your work week after two days off).   They walked directly onto the patio and sat themselves.  Remember from a previous post I wrote how this kind of behavior is irritating and is almost always a red flag suggesting a high maintenance table?  Yep.  HUGE red flag.  I welcomed them to the restaurant and asked the man if he wanted a kid's menu for his son.  He replied with a stern,"No", then I immediately noticed he was foreign.  I proceeded to get two regular lunch menus and placed them at the table.  After taking a moment to glance at the menus, the man asked for a kid's menu.  Really?  Oh my god.  I gave him the benefit of the doubt and was hoping it was just a miscommunication and a language barrier issue.  I brought the kids's menu.  He freaked out.  In his poor English, he exploded "This is ALL you have?  This is it?  You should have 80 items to choose from!"  I promise on my Journalism Degree, this guys actually used the number 80.  He then proceeded, "Ugh, you Americans and your Mac and Cheese."  I quickly replied. "Kids love Mac and Cheese and are usually happy to see that on the menu.  We like to keep the kids happy here, Sir."  He then snipped back, "Why don't you have something like gnocchi with several sauces to choose from?"  My temperature began to rise and my heart began to beat faster.  I replied, "Sir, we are not an Italian restaurant."  At this point, I was just hoping he would leave.  If only I'd  been so lucky.  We verbally wrestled back and forth a few more times until the man decided to ask his son if he wanted to stay.  The kid cheerfully responded, "Si Papi!"  Damn. 

The father settles on the kid's fish plate, which includes buttered white rice and sauteed vegetables.  He asked if he could get a salad instead of rice.  "Of course," I immediately blurt out (but in my head I knew I was going to charge him extra for that).  He insisted on telling me he wanted red wine vinegar with the salad.  "Sure, no problem."  Done.  "Anything for you, Sir?"  Nope.  Apparently, just the kid was eating.  Of course.  My food runner ran the first course out, which is a mixed fruit place (standard on all kid's menus).  He argued with the food runner, "This is dessert!  We didn't order this!  Why are we getting dessert first?!"  My food runner explained that's what the kid's menus come with and we serve it first.  The food runner came inside and told me all of this then asked, "What's wrong with that guy?  I don't like him."  I roll my eyes, "I know, he's awful."  I continued, "Fire that food ASAP so we can get him outta here."  He adamantly agreed.  As I was hiding from this guy near the bar, I noticed he was on his cell, on speaker, talking very loudly, using dramatic hand gestures and antics.  Ugh.  So obnoxious.  Just then I realized I had to check on the table next to them.  God I didn't want to go out there.  When I did, they asked if they could move tables because the guy on the cell phone was "being way too loud."  This guy had successfully managed to not only piss me off, but the food runner and the two people next to him as well.  Unbelievable.

When his food was finally served, I was at the bar picking up drinks for a different table near them.   As I walked by I anxiously asked, "How is everything?"  He quickly burst out, "Where is the olive oil?  I need olive oil."  Ahhhh! I scream on the inside.  At this point, I had to fight back a little.  "Sir, you only told me you wanted vinegar."  To which he replied, "Every great country in the world serves olive oil and vinegar with salad!"  Of course I know olive oil and vinegar is a classic combonation for salads.  Did he just insult my intelegence too?  But he didn't mention he wanted olive oil, and frankly, I thought he was being extremely picky and perhaps heath conscious for his kid.  Reluctantly, I told him I'd be back.  First, however, I had to drop drinks off and take a food order.  While I was at that table taking their order, I notice Sr. Tactless got up and went inside the restaurant.  Ugh!  "He couldn't even bare the thought of waiting a few minutes," I thought.  I tried to focus on my current table's order, but all I could think about is what a scene he must be making inside.  I enter and head straight to the computer to enter my food order.  I can hear him asking for olive oil from another server as he's standing at the sushi bar.  It was at this moment, I realized how impatient and completely absurd this guy was.  I walked to the kitchen, got him the olive oil and practically followed the guy back out to his table (because he was still inside complaining).  His son must be having a wonderful family lunch outside all by himself this whole time.  As I followed him back to his table, I placed the olive oil on the table.  He muttered something in Spanish under his breath.  I decided to ask the little boy a question, "How's your fish?"  And without even letting the boy respond, the irritated father replied, "It's awful because his salad wasn't prepared properly and he couldn't eat them together."  I watched as he dumped the entire ramekin of olive oil onto the salad and began to mix it up and eat it himself.  I simply walked away. I had no response at that point.   Because at that time, my only response was one that would have probably got me fired.  So I chose to be the better person and walked away.  What could I say at that point?  I was not about to apologize for something that didn't need apologizing for, nor did I want to continue fueling his inconsiderate babble. 

Complete avoidance was my best tactic for the remainder of his stay.  I didn't even make eye contact when I had to walk by his table.  After 15 minutes or so passed, I was forced to ask him if he was ready for the dessert (that is sadly - in this case - included with the kid's meal).  I ordered the tiny creme brulee and printed the check.  I dropped it immediately.  Again, I avoided the table until I saw his credit card out.  Surprisingly, he didn't question my additional charge for the "substitution" of the salad that he obviously ate.  I swiped his card, said "Thank you.  Have a nice afternoon."  Yuck.  I hated even saying that.  But I am a professional, and I can't be rude.  It's just not in my blood. 

I hid at the bar again as he took off on his bicycle with his son on his smaller bike.  I was expecting a zero dollar tip, but was surprised to find he tipped me $3.00 on his $17.00 check.  But let's face it:  three dollars for everything I put up with is practically nothing.  And they both esentially ate lunch for under $20 at a four star restaurant.  Cheap ass.  At that point, when someone is that difficult, the tip doesn't even matter (well, I guess a $100 tip might have made up for it). 

However, I still would have blogged about it, and I still would consider him the most abrasive man in the world.