Sweet revenge. Sweet Revenge Handcrafted. The other night I had a late table come in at five minutes til closing, and they had called. KNEW that we closed at 1. Admittedly, it's pretty innocent, since I didn't pee in it, or anything gross like that, but it was the best I could do and still sleep. She and I go back a few years so she knew I wouldn't tell management when she. Apparently, four men who have been working at a local construction site. One guy in particular. Sweet Revenge Honolulu bakes homemade pies for you everyday. We use local ingredients and make everything from scratch. Bartender's Prescription for Revenge Last month I'm sitting at a local restaurant sharing service war-stories with the bartender. She and I go back a few years so she. Turning Hate into Healing. The Righteous Lust for Vengeance: Satisfaction at Last! This Page in Portuguese. About the author: Grantley graduated in psychology, then. A prick to her. We'll just call him ass- hole #2,9. Anyway, this asshole knew how annoying it was for bartenders to make frozen drinks, but. To top it all off, he NEVER tipped. This one evening, Asshole saw the bartender making some blended drink and asked her what. She responded by calling the drink a ! Her revenge, however, ranks #1 in my book. While the drink was blending, she poured double doses of prescription laxative into the. The trick worked. Within ten minutes, this guy was running to the bathroom looking like. And that wasn't the only time he had to make a. As the guys were getting ready to cash out, she noticed that he was getting. Being the good bartender she is, her counting back the change slowed. While she was counting, she very casually told him. I live in Colorado in a town with only. One night I had these two inbreds asking for Bud Lights. I was polite and nice to them, but when they finally left after we started. I was left with a nickel and a shiny dime as tip on roughly $3. I was pissed, but no biggie; I checked out and went to one of the other bars, where. Upon entering, who do you think I see at the. The two cheap inbreds. I throw down fifteen cents on the counter between. When he returns he removes the inbreds drinks. He goes on to tell me that he. Then we. started hiding the lids around the restaurant or taking them home. I just loooove the ones that pay by credit card, leave blank both the tip and total lines. So you go back to the table that ordered the cheesecake and with as much politeness as you. ARE YOU STUPID OR WHAT? WHAT KIND OF F****** RESTAURANT IS. THIS?! For God's sake grow up; it's not the end of the world. The customer thinks that I. I say, . K. Here's a sordid tale of revenge. As a quasi- manager of three pizza restaurants, I was. Well after a year- and- a- half of promises that I would get my own. I didn't realize how unlikely that was), I finally had it. I began draining the keg at nights, making myself pizzas whenever I felt like it. This of course was only after repeated. You're my best. worker! I want you to be a manager. Look how much you help me now. Good thing he had a bunch of kids working for him, except for the. One night, the newest manager to be brought in from outside and placed in a position of. I walked out and I took the three other best, most- experienced workers with. The business closed within the week - all four stores in the metro area. The owner took. what cash he could and fled the country, to this day I believe the corporate folks are. If waiting tables was a minimum wage job without. Who would work so hard for the same amount they could get by sitting down at a. Hallmark store or something? When I waited tables, I'd sometimes enjoy getting customers who didn't tip, if I already knew who they were, so I. That satisfaction was worth way more than what their measly tip would've been. I say that with the confidence of one who was a great server and knew it, both by verbal compliments and the amount of money I took home. I. didn't need to grovel for anyone, and that made it a blast to . I have walked around countless nights. I don't always have time to check the seat. I finally get the opportunity to run to the bathroom. She was. indignant and asked to speak with the manager. I told her I WAS the manager, doing the. She cleaned it up and I felt great afterwards, how sad. What makes people (who are probably very nice, well- mannered citizens). Do these same people hang. Aaargh!!! I found a new way to piss off jerks. If they order anything spicy, I stab the item with a. Tabasco. Chomp into that!—Andy, Philly. Mother's Milk. There happened to be one very annoying customer that used to come in. The waiters often got even with awful customers using the tricks you. However, as a decent manager, I helped the servers get even with poor tipping regulars by. No one EVER checks computer generated bills.—Paul. While working at a pizza joint, one demanding a- hole customer got his pizza. He and his. fat wife ate half of it and then complained that it was under cooked. The manager rushed. They ate half of. The manager then again offered to. They said no thanks, we're leaving. He apologized to these two a- holes and comped them the meal. On the way out they saw the. The manager gave a stern . The rats assisted. From four thirty on. The only reason why I worked so hard for so little money ($2. I was too young and dumb to know any. There was a hostess I'll call Laurie. She usually ran herd on us busboys calling us lazy. Well, Laurie had a mouth in desperate need of braces and a screechy voice. Her teeth would have made Bugs Bunny. Those teeth also contributed to a lisp problem. Her S's and TH's sounded like F's. R's sounded like W's. When ever she gave me orders, it went like. I need Boofs (Booths)! Laurie needed a table cleared. Seeing me rush past, she ran after me . After the rush was. She kept cracking up as well. Laurie was as nice as could be after that.—U. F. Puck. Ok, I'm a recovering waiter/bartender who is now stuck in a corporate desk job. Great to have a wad of cash in. Friday night. Anyhoo, I was working in a hotel as a banquet waiter in. In addition, we had to pour coffee b/c it was not on the buffet line. So, there. were two of us handling about 5. Towards the end I was cleaning up the last of the plates from a table of lingerers. One. of the other patrons at the table offered to help me out by getting the coffee for his. I gave him a questioning look like I. He snapped his fingers at me and said, . I. apologized profusely and tried to clean him off with a napkin. He looked at me to see if. I was yanking his chain and did it on purpose but I kept my demeanor and he bought it. He. bitched and moaned all the way to his room. I walked into the kitchen to a roar of. We. monitored the beloved burger every shift, and every sighting of it gave us joy. I imagine the last question on the. I plan to call him and speak in the sweetest most bubbly voice and. I am calling from the Customer Service Dept in the home headquarters. I would start. out telling him that we received his comment card and wanted to discuss his problem with. I'd say a few more typical, corporate, people- pleasing types of things and allow him do. I would start to get a little cocky with him: . Maybe such a rude FUCK such as YOURSELF will even get his food SPIT in. Why don't you get a FUCKING LIFE and. THAT; you probably have a TINY DICK, YOU MOTHERFUCKING. BASTARD!!!! Click.—Joy P., Virginia. After a long 8 hour Sunday shift, a known arsehole came into the pub and asked for a. Not only did he want it burned to boot leather, he wanted it. I conveyed his order to the chef, who went completely ape- shit, and who started to. Amid much cursing and complaining, the pub Dalmatian came to the rear. Both myself and the chef had the same idea. Not only did the nob of a customer eat the whole steak, he proclaimed it was the. The moral: Don't fuck with the chef!!!—Pete, U. K. Is Big Daddy Home? I know this is horrible, but I'm glad to tell it. Well, it is. a big mistake to do something this foolish and leave one's name behind. I looked up her husband's name in the phone book and made it a point to call every now. They had obviously never been to the store and, like many people, got the wrong. He had been waiting 1 1/2 hours for his table, and he. HOT. He eventually ordered fajitas. When I rang them through, I hit the . I told the cook I wanted them made HOT. Making sure the managers were safely tucked into. I went onto the broiler, put down the skillet, tossed in some onions and bell. WHOLE BOTTLE of TABASCO SAUCE into this asshole's fajitas. Let's just say that I've never seen someone go SO red SO quickly. I thought the asshole. I'm sure he did, too. Before he left, I apologized once again for. HOT on our menu. He looked at me like he thought I was. Love it!—Steve, Cambridge, England. I have worked at a restaurant where the owner was such an asshole, I know a group. The moral of this story? Not only was he superior in. He had a rare quality. Brent was patiently waiting on some trailer trash when the father asked if there was any. Brent replied that we were unfortunately out of it. The customer. bellowed, ! WHAT IS YOUR. FUCKING PROBLEM??? All. the other guests in the room stopped and stared at Brent, who was left humiliated and. Brent went directly to the manager and asked to be placed on another table. Brent fumed quietly and began doing all that was necessary for the troublesome. His blue eyes flashed angrily until he went back into the dining room, where he. When Brent saw the table's food coming up in the window, he felt he had to have his pound. He grabbed the baked potato from the plate that would go to the shouting loser. The manager stood nearby, oblivious; no one would. EVER suspect Brent of what he was about to do. Brent worked up a killer hocker and spit. He brought the potato back to the kitchen. I watched Brent take the food to the table, and then he and I huddled in the corner of the. Brent stopped by the table to. More sniggering in. At the end of the meal, the man apologized for yelling at Brent. Lesson: Never, EVER, fuck with the person who handles your food, no. Lynette in Long Island, NYWhen the waitress told me, the chef, that a particularly obnoxious customer . Revenge wasn't necessarily sweet; it called for more blue cheese.—Sarah, U. K. I once worked a large national chain restaurant. As you can imagine, we had a senior. It always seemed that when I sat some old bastards, they wanted the. My answer was to give them the booth but to first.
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