Every server has one. “That one table” that burrowed into your
memory like a splinter. The one that made you question your life choices, your patience, and the legality of disappearing into the walk-in for an hour. For me, it was Table 22. Four guests. Saturday night. Reservation under “Brad.” I should’ve known.
The Vibe Was Off From Minute One
They sat down, barely looked up. No greetings. No smiles.
I gave them my usual warm welcome. The alpha of the group-tight polo shirt, bluetooth in one ear-raised a hand like he was swatting a fly. “We’ll need menus. And can we not wait forever for drinks this time?”
“This time?” Bro, we just met But whatever-deep breath, professional face an I got them menus, waters, and an offer for cocktails. Bluetooth Guy? Just bring a round of something decent and fast. You choose.” That sounds fun until they hate it.
Every Server’s Nightmare Unfolds
They changed their minds. Repeatedly. Talked over each other. Tried to one-up mean wine knowledge, then asked for ketchup with filet mignan One asked, “”What’s the best thing here that won’t make me feel bloated?” (Sir, you’re in a steakhouse. That’s not how this works.) Midway through, the table started keeping score-literally. They joked about how long I took to refill their water, time their entrées, and mock my recommendations I wanted to disappear. I wanted to clock out. But instead… I did “nothing”
I Flipped the Script By Not Playing the Game
I didn’t beg. I didn’t break. I didn’t snap or give snark back-no matter how much I wanted to
Instead, I served them clinically Efficiently Politely. Not robotic-but professional with zero emotional hooks.
Refills before they asked. Eye contact without fear. I even brought them extra sauce before they realized they’d need it.
And Then It Happened
They got quiet near the end. Like… surprised I hadn’t cracked
I dropped the check with a smile and said:
“Hope you all had a great night. Let me know if I can wrap anything up to go.” They paid. Left. No complaints. No drama. But here’s the kicker: **18% tip.” And on the receipt> “You’re really good at your job. Thanks for rolling with us.”
What That Table Taught Me
Not every guest is going to love you. Not every shift is going to feel good But you can still “win” You win by holding the line. You win by not letting a nude table ruin your entire night or your dignity What You Can Steal From This **Professional pushover. You can serve people well without shrinking for them.-**Silence is a flex. You don’t have to respond to every jab. “Kindness isn’t weakness-it’s control
Final Thought
That table didn’t break me–they “sharpened” me.
And next time someone snaps their fingers at me like I’m a vending machine?
I’ll just smile- and serve them with the quiet power of someone who’s already survived worse.
