WAAAH!!! We're too fat! accommodate us! You know, for their own good the restaurant host should kick their fat asses right out of the damn restaurant.

STORY TIME.

I worked about 6 months at an Italian restaurant. This restaurant was owned by two off-the-boat Sicilians. Very nice people. But the story isn't about them per se...it's about the customers.

On St. Patrick's day of last year I took a reservation called in for the following Friday. It was for a birthday party for 14 people. The Friday rolled around and the first two people came in about 15 minutes before the reservation time. One was a lady in her 60s, who was chubby but not a complete hambeast yet. She gave me a cake and said "CAN YOU PUT THIS IN THE FRIDGE WE NEED IT LATER THANKS" so I said "fine."

Everyone else showed up 20-30 minutes late. The whole family walking in late was comprised of bumbling, waddling hambeasts. I wondered why the cake was so big before the family got there. That's when I knew.

Dinner time passed uneventfully, but by the end the knights of the ham table had a myriad of stains from the many baskets of bread, butter, olive oil, vinegar, soda refills, pasta sauce, garlic knots, cheesy bread and calamari I brought to them. It was an utterly disgusting mess.

When it came time to eat the cake, I asked if they wanted me to plate the cake. I didn't mention the surcharge for plating because it was in fine print on the menu (we only charged $1.00 surcharge for plating each piece anyways...and I'm the one who did it. I made that cake look like a motherfucking cake of the gods).

My labor went into making those desserts look beautiful. That shit looked like it was from a 4 star restaurant. Within no more than 5 minutes' time, even after having eaten as much as they had, all of the cake was gone. And now several of them had additional stains from cake crumbs and icing on their dresses, shirts and jackets.

So then the check comes. I give it to the lady who gave me the cake. She wasn't the one paying. It was the fat fuck of her daughter who was paying. FUCK. This woman could barely sit in her chair, and it creaked with every little shift she made in the fatty ocean they call a "fupa." She opens the check and I'm staring at the table. I look at her. Her eyes bulge. She looks back in my direction and I look away. She waddles to the counter. She asks to speak with the manager. I get my boss.

Boss tells her, "we have a plating charge for the cake because we made it look nice, we let you store the cake in our fridge, and we had you use our plates and utensils and extra napkins and everything else. We even gave you a free appetizer to help your family celebrate. Be grateful."

Hippowhale is not amused. She screams, throws the check at the manager with her card, pays the amount then says, "YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN HONEST WITH US."

Which is when I said, "Well, if you had read the menu, you would see we state the surcharge there."

I get a menu.

"Read the fine print here."

I show her.

She waddles backwards, looking like an angry wildebeast with 20 chins. She says, "FUCK YOU. FUCK THIS PLACE. AND BOSS, FIRE THIS FUCKER! I'M NEVER COMING BACK HERE AGAIN. THIS IS RIDICULOUS."

My boss kept me because he knew I was right.

TL;DR Fat family came in for birthday party. The Hippowhale who paid the bill didn't like how we charged a 1 dollar plating surcharge for each slice of cake. Hippowhale tries to get me fired.

Bonus: Everyone else in the restaurant who was eating were distracted from their meals because of this hippowhale. When the knights of the ham table left, I realized that although I had only gotten a 5$ tip from the party of 14 (for a $297 bill), the other tables there had more than made up for it. I love people who aren't hams. They're the ones who helped pay my bills every month as a waiter.

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