Entitled Lady at a Restaurant Gets Her Karma Served On a Silver Platter
“Where are our drinks? Or do I have to wait all day?”
When Stephanie returned, Karen lifted her glass like it was a specimen under a microscope.
“Is this actually clean? Or do you people just not care?” she said, every word heavy with contempt. Heat rose in Stephanie’s face, but she kept her voice even.
Minutes into her meal, Karen flagged Stephanie down again, jabbing a finger at her plate.
“Is this even cooked?” she barked, loud enough for other tables to turn their heads. “You people just throw things on a grill and call it food? This would give me Salmonella.”
Around them, patrons exchanged uneasy glances. Karen’s kids raced around the diner, bumping chairs and brushing past tables, while she stayed locked in on nitpicking the salt shaker and demanding more condiments.
“I’ll have the kitchen remake it for you,” Stephanie said evenly.
Karen’s reply was a smirk. “Maybe they should hire people who know what they’re doing. Or is that too much to ask in a place like this?”
When Stephanie returned with the new plate, Karen eyed it with open disdain.
“Are you even smart enough to know what cooked means? Or is that too much for a small-town waitress?”
Stephanie’s grip on the tray tightened.
Each jab left a mark, wearing away her calm. She’d weathered difficult customers before, but today—on her last day—it stung sharper.
She forced a smile, reminding herself she’d made it through six years here; she could last one more shift. But Karen’s words burrowed deep.
