ETA: I changed the title of this post this morning, because it was a tiny bit harsh. I was extra cranky last night over something else! I really should save that level of vitriol for the truly bad people. Middle Finger Cat stays though, as he's hilarious!
I got a table of three tonight that always seems to find something to complain about. I got a bad feeling when I greeted them, but I shrugged it off--my back was killing me, to the point where I was taking tiny little baby steps and couldn't lean over (and naturally I had the station farthest from the kitchen). I wasn't as sharp as I should have been because of the constant stabbing pain, which I guess is how I somehow managed not to put their order in. I honestly thought that I had; I even checked on it--I thought. Turns out I kept pulling up the table next to them and I don't know why.
So I finally realize how I fucked up, and get their food in on the fly, and get Pot Smoking Manager on the case. I also told them it was my fault, and apologized. They got their food less than ten minutes later, told me everything was great, ordered a second round of drinks. PSM comped all their food, of course; they only had to pay for their alcohol. When they put out their cash I said I'd be right back with their change, and got the man paying said they didn't need change. I hadn't looked at the amount, so I thought I might be getting a tip. And I did, technically. I'd rather I didn't; they left a forty two cent "tip". To me, that's more insulting than nothing at all.
I was a first cut, and when my last two tables paid I sat down for about ten minutes. When I stood up, mentally ready to hobble around doing my sidework .... my back didn't hurt! I was amazed! I wanted to dance and sing and skip around. So the night ended well after all!