We are Servers, not to be Confused with Servants

Some people take pleasure from seeing you run around like a race horse for them. I don't know how many times I have approached a table when they received their food and asked them if they need anything else only to have one of them tell me, "Mustard." Ok, that's a fair enough request, right? I retrieved it for them. Then, when I arrive with the mustard, someone else wants something. "Oh, and extra ketchup." I then go and get that for them. When I get back with the ketchup, they then say, "Oh, and some barbecue sauce." WOULD IT KILL YOU SONS OF BITCHES TO ASK ME FOR EVERYTHING YOU NEED AT THE SAME TIME? Believe it or not, I have other tables full of patrons who also need my attention. And nothing says "cheap tipper" like making plenty of demands and being difficult. These people usually show through their attitude that they have no respect for you by making you do tons of special things for them since they are so entitled and then by tipping you less than 15%.

I also hate it when people request water with no ice and/or lemons, especially when it's busy. When it's very busy, getting lemons means maneuvering my way through a large, crowded restaurant to the crowded service area, where servers are waiting for drinks since the bar is always overworked and understaffed, getting lemons, and going all the way back to their table with their damn lemons. When it's slow, it's not much to ask, but when it's very busy, that takes time away from me being able to help other customers.

Last night an Indian man in his forties or fifties came in with a white female companion who was about the same age as him. There is no need to know that both were quite unattractive, but it makes me feel better to put that out there. After greeting them, I asked if they wanted anything to drink. I knew they were going to be annoying when Mr. India suggested tea. "Oh, why, yes! I think I will take a hot chamomile tea. With lots of lemon!" Of course, you menopausal bitch. I will be happy to bring you lots of the disgusting lemons that have been sitting for hours, unrefrigerated, at the bar. They are probably contaminated with all sorts of lovely microbes since servers and the bartender have been sticking their hands in them all day, and I hope that you catch a disease from them. India ordered a coffee- but with a special request. Read this out loud in your best Indian accent. "Can you do me a favor?" Me, with a smile- "Of course I can!" India- "I would like regular milk, but I also want some skim milk on the side. Can you do that for me?" Me- "Of course!" Me in my head- Does it look like I have a fucking choice? Would it kill you to just get one type of milk? Pick one-skim or regular. If I were you, though, I would just stick to skim. You could stand to lose a few pounds.
His lady friend thought that his special request was a hoot and laughed after he made it. "Oh, Akbar! You are too much!" Her in her head- This waitress is a lot skinner, younger, and prettier than me. I am secretly jealous of her and, because of that, would like to see her suffer. I cannot say this out loud, so instead I will laugh when my ugly male companion makes her run around for him since he is so fucking entitled!
Mr. India paid the $27 bill and left me $3.90. How generous of him. A few more cents and it would have been 15%. But he probably needs the 15 cents more than I do.