Karen Demands VIP Table Claiming To Know The Owner, But I’m The Owner….

Chapter 1: The Legacy of a Family Restaurant

Karen storms into the restaurant screaming that she knows the owner and that we must give her and her group of pals the VIP table reserved for celebrities. The trouble is, I own the restaurant and have no idea who this lady is, but I decided to play along and see what happened.

During the dinner, one of the girls asked me whether I thought my life was meaningless because I worked as a waiter. That’s when I realized all bets were out and I was going to exact my retribution.

This occurred around Christmas and New Year’s. My grandparents immigrated to Canada from Italy in the 1970s and established a restaurant.

When they died, my parents took over the restaurant, which they grew and enlarged throughout the decades. I’ve been working at the restaurant since I was 15.

As my parents became older, they retired and became snowbirds, spending the winters in Florida. They sold the restaurant to me a few years ago, but they kept a tiny percentage of the stock as a supplementary source of income in addition to their savings.,

Chapter 2: Modernizing for the Holidays

As soon as I took possession, I modernized the old place. I rebuilt the restaurant, altered the logo, and contacted local and national newspapers to place advertisements.

I invited food critics, bloggers, and vloggers. It was slow at first, and I began to fear that the loan I took out to undertake all of this was the worst mistake I’d ever made, that I had ruined three generations of a family company.

But soon it began to work. A local semi-YouTuber included us in one of his videos, which prompted more people to visit and review us.

Even on a Monday, we were quickly seeing five to ten times the regular volume of activity. We became a destination for large events, and it was not uncommon for a celebrity to stop by on certain evenings.

I even invited certain high-profile clients to visit and cook for our guests. This cost a fortune, so we were completely filled for the holidays.

People had to make reservations in July to get a table in December. It took years to get to this point.,

Chapter 3: The Entitled Arrival

When things become busy, I don’t simply sit in the back office. I’m on the floor doing whatever needs to be done, whether it’s greeting customers, busing tables, or mopping the floors.

On nights with high-profile guests or events, I wear a jacket and take charge. One night, six women walked in.

Five of them appeared to be in their early 20s, with the leader looking to be in her mid-20s. My best assumption was that she was an elder sister of one of the females or an older sorority sister to incoming college students.

I was greeting them at the entrance, and as they approached, Queen Bee Karen was telling the baby Karens how fantastic this restaurant is, how delicious the cuisine is, and how there might even be celebrities there. When she approached me, she explained that she required a table for six.

I responded, “Of course. Can I get the name on the reservation?”

She stared at me. She responded, “Oh, I didn’t make one, but it’s okay. The owner is a personal friend of mine.”,

She continued, “He said he always keeps one or two tables open for special guests, and we can have one of those tonight.”

Chapter 4: The Bluff and the Threat

This is true for many high-profile restaurants, and I’ve been doing it recently as well. But I had no idea who this woman was, and she had never discussed any of this with me.

I understood she was attempting to get in without a reservation, but she had chosen the worst person to try this with. I told her, “I am sorry, but we cannot seat anyone without a reservation. As you can see, we do not have any seats available.”

I didn’t want to go all out and say I’m the owner and we have never spoken before, so I never promised you anything. I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other girls she was with at the time.

She then instructed one of the other girls to take a picture of me. She announced that she would speak with the owner and ensure that I was either scrubbing toilets or fired by the end of the week.

The other girls behind her joined in, saying things like, “Yeah, kiss your minimum wage job goodbye.”,

I wasn’t sure if they were in on it with her or if they truly believe she knew the owner. Queen Bee Karen then said, “Look, you can either give us a table or I can make your life very difficult. This is not worth losing your job.”

Chapter 5: Choosing a Lesson

She kept pointing, trying to belittle me, and then saying things like, “Obviously you aren’t anyone here, because if you were, you would know who I am and never try to tell me anything other than yes or of course.”

She was constantly attempting to put me down and take that table. At this time, it had been a hard day for me, and from my perspective, I had three options.

Number one, I could inform her that I am the owner and call her out on all of this. Number two, I could simply hand her the table and let things go.

Or third, I could teach Queen Bee Karen and her minions a lesson. I selected option three.

I smiled at her and said, “Of course, ma’am. Please follow me.”

I handed her one of the three tables we leave free in case a celebrity walks in, which occurs occasionally. I told her, “I apologize for everything, and you’re right. It would be simpler just to give you the table.”,

Chapter 6: The VIP Treatment

I also assured her that the first three rounds of drinks would be free. I seated them down and personally served them.

As they sat, I told them, “We need one of your credit cards and IDs just to keep on file and we’ll return them to you before you leave.”

Queen Karen handed me her card and informed the baby Karen minions, “Tonight is on me.”

I took their orders, gave them their free beverages, and informed them that due to how busy we were tonight, the meal may be delayed. The females only worried about the free drinks.

They ordered three rounds and still hadn’t received any food. They eventually called and asked me to check on it, all while giving me the worst attitude since they arrived.

I told them I will look into it, but also asked if they wanted additional drinks. They ordered two more rounds.

Chapter 7: The Hidden Price of Entitlement

They were soused by the time the appetizers arrived, having done nothing but drink on an empty stomach for the majority of the night and just eating salads. As more food arrived, more beverages were ordered.,

What these girls didn’t realize was that they were at our VIP table, which normally costs a few thousand dollars to sit at, but I didn’t charge them for it. Except for the first three rounds, I charged them for all of the extremely costly cocktails they had throughout the evening.

Furthermore, the table they were sitting at, as previously stated, was VIP, thus the menus were different. Prices are not displayed on these menus; this is a restaurant industry trade secret.

They also offered higher-end menu items such as white truffle, black caviar meals, and specially imported West Coast oysters, among others. At one point during the night, I honestly began to question what I was doing.

I worried I was going too far with these poor girls. They might not know any better, but certain things encouraged me throughout the night.

One of the baby Karens questioned whether I thought my life was pointless because all I ever became was a server. Also, one of the staff told me that they were planning how to mess with me, believing that they could do so whenever they wanted and that I would always give them a table.,

Chapter 8: The Reality of the Bill

I overheard them say, “He’s cute, but I wouldn’t date a waiter like that. He is such a pushover.”

There were other comments like that throughout the night, so I continued with their life lesson. By the end of the night, each female had built up a bill ranging from $500 to $600.

I handed Queen Karen the bill for $4,233.23, which included tax and tip. I’ve never seen somebody sober up this soon.

She went from smiling and giggling with her buddies to almost in tears. She immediately summoned me over and asked whether this was a joke.

I took the bill, looked it over, and apologized. “I’ll get you the correct bill amount.”

Again, she seemed completely relieved, assuming she had received someone else’s bill, and called me a, “effing idiot,” before continuing to talk to her pals.