Bitch of the night.

Well, bitches, technically.

When I got to work, it was pretty much what I expected. I had a crummy section of two booths and three two-seater tables. The booths were both sat, and I was there about a half an hour before I got a table. Meanwhile, Lapdog manager was there, and he was about to cross the line over into cranky.

My first table of two was an older couple, nice enough, nothing unusual. My second table was two women about my age. After I brought their drinks, they told me they hadn't even looked at the menu. After about ten minutes of gabbing they finally picked up their menus. Another ten minutes after that, they said they knew what they wanted--and then saw the flyer for our special and needed another five minutes. Finally, the ordered, making comments about the cost--"we didn't really budget for this" and "I've already spending ten dollars, I might as well spend the extra to get a salad!" They seemed pleasant enough, and were fairly low maintenance after that.

Still, I wasn't entirely surprised when one of them claimed her baked potato was moldy. She made a quiet but sizeable fuss about it, saying she was about to vomit, it was fuzzy and gross, blah blah blah. It was a spot, like potatoes get, and that was all. Of course, Lapdog wasn't going to argue with her, so he bought her dinner.

The two women then ordered desserts; their total came to a whopping $23.57, and they paid with a gift card that had $25 on it. They then sat there for another hour yapping, and left after the dinner rush was over and while I was in the kitchen.

They were there for more than two hours, and left me $1.43--what was left on their gift card. Fucking bitches. If you can't afford to go out to eat, don't fucking go out! Don't order more than you can afford, make up an issue to get it paid for, and then leave your waitress next to nothing. Fucking hell, is it really that hard to think like a decent human being?