We had a 5:00 reservation that specifically asked for a quiet table. We don’t have a lot of those.

Luckily our atrium area was open tonight.

They were seated.

About five seconds after they were served their entrees the server lets me know they are unhappy.

Seems they feel the porterhouse is too small. The ribeye is too fatty.

I ask her if they want to send them back.

She says they declined and were joking about it.

I tell her to keep me posted.

She comes by again a little later.

The joking is getting more intense. But they still haven’t sent them back.

Fast forward another 30 minutes or so.

The server has dropped the check.

The wife is furious that we didn’t take the steaks off the bill.

The server explains I’m at the door and they can address their concern on their way out. She also lets me know they are taking their steaks to go.

About 60 seconds later the husband comes to the desk.

He’s trying to be friendly but he’s not happy.

They’ve spent two hundred dollars on a meal they weren’t happy with.

I inquire as to what the problem was.

Turns out the porterhouse was too rare. They’d ordered medium rare.

I ask if they informed the server so that we could add more fire to it.

He said no as they didn’t feel like they should have to.

I explain we would have been happy to cook it more.

He insists he shouldn’t have had to ask for that.

He then explains that the porterhouse was a also not 20 ounces. He’s been around the block a time or two and there is no way it’s 20 ounces.

I explain that the chef hand cuts and weighs every piece of meat we serve. I assure him it’s 20 ounces and more likely 21 or 22 ounces.

He starts to say something else when his wife appears.

She slams her to go box down on the counter, followed by the check and informs me she is not paying the check till I take the steaks off the bill.

I explain that since she ate one steak and is taking the other one home that I won’t do that.

She says fine, she’ll just leave and not pay any of the check.

I say that that is her choice but I’d call the police and file a report for failing to pay for services rendered. Since we have her name, phone number, and credit card information, it won’t take long for them to find her.

This really pisses her off.

At this point she opens the to go box, picks up the porterhouse with her bare hand and starts waving it at me.

She’s shouting, at me about how rare the steak is, insisting that it’s raw.

The husband joins in.

He picks up potatoes from the box telling me how undercooked they are.

I’m seriously about to laugh.

No one has ever shaken their meat at me.

Euphemism implied.

They continue.

I ask them why if the steaks are so bad why they are taking them with them.

She explains she’s taking it home to cook it more.

I tell her we could have done that for her.

This continues.

People are going to the restroom. Leaving. Coming in.

Finally she slams cash on the counter and tells me she wants change for her bill.

It’s 189. I get her change.

I try to unsarcastically say thank you.

She leaves.

20 minutes later she’s back.

She’s even more angry.

She yells at me that I didn’t deduct her gift card from the bill. I tell her I had no idea she had a gift card. She yells it’s written in the back of the check.

How the fuck would I have known that?

I leave. Process the gift card. Give her the extra 50 bucks back.

She leaves.

I think to myself.

Well. That was fun.