I brought her the tea.
She took a sip, made a face, and said to her phone, “Y’all, this tea is lukewarm. Like, did they even try?”
It wasn’t lukewarm. I’d just poured it.
But I smiled and said, “Would you like me to get you a fresh glass?”
“Yeah. And tell them to actually put ice in it this time.”
There had been ice.
I brought her a new glass. She didn’t say thank you.
When I brought her food, she was mid-livestream.
She didn’t say thank you.
“Okay, so the food just got here. Let’s see if it’s worth the wait.” She poked at the salad with her fork. “This chicken looks dry. And where’s my extra dressing?”
“It’s on the side, Ma’am.”
She looked at the little cup of dressing like I’d insulted her. “This is extra?!”
“Would you like more?”
“Obviously!”
I brought more dressing. She didn’t acknowledge it.
“This chicken looks dry.”
For the next 30 minutes, she live-streamed herself eating while making comments.
“The lettuce is wilted. Two out of 10. I’m only eating this because I’m starving.”
The lettuce wasn’t wilted. I’d seen the cook make that salad myself.
When I brought the check, she looked at it and her face twisted. “$112? For THIS?”
“Yes, Ma’am. You had the salad, two sides, the dessert sampler, and three drinks.”
“$112? For THIS?”
She looked directly at her phone. “Y’all, they’re trying to overcharge me. This is ridiculous.” Then she looked at me. “You’ve been rude this entire time. You ruined the vibe. I’m not paying for disrespect.”
I hadn’t raised my voice. Hadn’t said one sharp word. All I’d done was my job.
“Ma’am, I…”
“Save it.” She picked up her phone, smiled into it, and said, “I’m out of here. This place doesn’t deserve my money or my platform.” She grabbed her bag and walked out, leaving that $112 check on the table.
“I’m not paying for disrespect.”
I stood there, watching the doors close behind her. And I smiled.
Because she’d just picked the wrong grandma.
***
Minutes later, I walked straight to my manager, Danny. “That woman just walked out on a $112 bill.”
Danny sighed. “Esther, it happens. We’ll comp it.”
“No, sir.”
He looked at me, surprised.
“I’m not letting her get away with it. She’s not getting a free meal because she threw a tantrum on camera.”
She’d just picked the wrong grandma.
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