I guess it slipped my mind that people think lunch servers don't have bills to pay. What other explanation is there for $4 on $33 (after taking up a table THE ENTIRE GODDAMN SHIFT), $2 on $23, and my personal favorite, $5 on $54. This was my favorite because at first there were two people at the table, a woman of around 50 and a pouty girl of about 13. The woman told me "I might be expecting my niece and her son."
I was confused and asked if she wasn't sure if they were coming, so they were going to order, or what (thought politely). She said they were on the way, and I wisely didn't point out that means she was expecting them, not "might be." Said niece and niece's son came wandering up about there, so we continued on with the usual course of drinks and "are you ready to order." They said they were, and they almost were. The older woman ordered a salad; the girl ordered "a plain hamburger, just plain with nothing on it." Then came the niece and her son, who was about three and absolutely adorable in his Superman shirt.
He grew less and less adorable over the next few minutes as his mother asked him, repeatedly, if he wanted broccoli or carrots. He started at her blankly. She asked again, and he said, "chicken!" She told him he was getting chicken but did he want broccoli or carrots. He mumbled something about Superman. Broccoli or carrots? Big-eyed blank stare. Etc. Etc. Etc. I was almost ready to scream when he finally said broccoli. I got mom's ordered and escaped while I could.
Their food came, and they said everything was fine. When I checked back, the pouting teenager pointed at her plain burger and said, "I need cheese!" Um, then maybe you should have asked for a cheeseburger, snotface. I got her a couple of slices of cheese -- which I charged them for, because she should have asked for a cheeseburger, especially since I repeated the "plain hamburger" shit to her -- and she ripped them into shreds and didn't eat them.
They kept picking at their food and ignoring me for a while, then asked for boxes and the check. I took the older woman's card and returned it in a black book check presenter. "Have a good afternoon!"
"Um, haven't you got a pen?" She sneered at me, in that you are a server therefore you are insignificant tone.
"Oh yes, there's one in there." I gave her my sunniest smile. She opened the book, saw the pen, sniffed and looked away from me. A few minutes later, as I walked by to check on another table, that snotty bitch made a point of handing the book with the 9% tip in it. I hate it when they do that--because I have to say thank you, not knowing if their tip deserves a "thank you" or a "fuck you".
Oh, and they sat there another half an hour too.