My first official job after graduating college was managing at Marie Callender's for a measly salary. I have no shame in revealing the real name of the restaurant because they are now bankrupt, still owe me money, and fucked me over many times. Anyways, Marie's was basically a glorified coffee shop that sold pies. Most of the clientele were white trash hicks and ghetto Mexicans.
One night one of my Mexican servers, Willie, came to me and complained about two women in his section. He said that they only ordered one salad bar plate and were sharing. He suspected that because they were Mexican, they were cheap and were trying to get two for the price of one. The menu clearly states that the salad bar is per person, and each person consuming any salad bar products will be charged the full price.
I told him to charge for two salad bars before giving them the bill. He said, "Well, Mexicans always leave bad tips, even though I'm Mexican and I speak Spanish to them. They're not gonna tip me anyway so I hope they get mad."
Willie's suspicions were correct. Upon reviewing the bill the two women immediately asked to speak to a manager. I smiled, stood up straight, and confidently walked over to their table.
Me: "Hi, my name's Jessica, I came over because Willie said you had a concern about the bill. Can you tell me what happened?"
Ghetto Bitch #1: "Yeah, I ordered the salad bar and he charged us for two."
Ghetto Bitch #2: "And then I had a little bite of her salad, so he's trying to tell me that he has to charge me."
Me: "I'm sorry if there's any confusion, but the salad bar is a per person charge. We don't allow sharing."
GB #2: "Well that's really stupid, because I only had dessert and just tasted her salad. He's acting like I ate a bunch and I'm lying."
Me: "Actually, I'm sorry but I saw you both of you fill your plates at least twice. You both had a full salad bar, so I have to charge for two."
GB #1: "This is bullshit! We're not fucking lying! You swear like we're just trying to get something for free! I'm never coming back here again!"
Me: "I'm sorry, ladies. Please pay your bill and don't come back in here again. You're no longer welcome in here."
I walked away briskly and stood at the host stand so I could make sure they did not leave without paying. Several minutes later, they walked out with their arms full of take-out containers. I gave them a smug smile and thanked them for coming. One of them flipped me off.
I went back to find Willie and ask what happened. He said that they told him that if they had to pay, they wanted to-go containers so they could take stuff home. They filled several boxes and stormed out.
Willie and I had a good laugh and then I asked what they tipped. He said he didn't know so we walked over to their table. They paid with a credit card and scribbled an obscenity over the tip line. There was a single penny left on the table, along with a white to-go box with an elaborate drawing of an uncircumcised penis with some hairy balls on it.
I saved the box and a copy of the credit card slip with the woman's name on it, just in case they called back to complain. They didn't and they never came back. Victory was mine.
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