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I'm glad I don't wait tables anymore. As I've gotten older I put up with less sh!t. A person like that was unfortunately the occasional norm. You get them, you have to vent about them (appropriately done here), and you get over them. I remember one lady who wanted her nacho ingredients individually portioned out, complained about the chips being too greasy before and after I brought them out, her husband camped at my table for 45 minutes before she showed up, then camped for an hour minimum when she got there after ordering only appetizers, and then stiffed me after I was very attentive to their every need. On the flip side, the redeeming thing of waiting tables is having your regulars come in and ask for you every time and occasionally leave you monsterous tips. Good luck to you, and better luck next shift!
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