I heard about this shitty little trick that was played on a waiter in another restaurant a few months ago and I thought I'd share it with you. Now don't even think about trying it out for yourselves as we are wise to it now. I swear if I got caught out with it I'd hunt the fuckers down and beat them until my fist were nothing but bone. And there's a fair bit of chubbiness to get through if we are being honest.
"Table for four is it? Certainly", replied the friendly waiter and showed them to a vacant table. It was a Tuesday night and not so busy.
The two ladies parked their large handbags under the table whilst the chaps removed their jackets. All was well. Friendly waiter secured a drink order and talked them through that day's specials offering her humble opinion along the way. Nothing seemed untoward or in any way peculiar about the cheery foursome. In fact later on the waiter would go as far as to say that it was the picture of perfect dining. Oh how appearances can be deceiving.
Food was served and food was consumed with considerable gusto. The wine too was consumed in large volumes and was replenished more than once. By all accounts everybody was having a gay old time - the guest were happy as was the waiter and the repartee at the table was the sort that makes for a great night with lots of snappy one liners and good banter.
They took it in turns to pop outside for a smoke between courses but when they had finished their mains they all wanted to go together. That's not unusual.
"Sure not a problem....", replied the friendly waiter "...I'll keep an eye on your jackets and bags. Shall I leave sweet menus on the table for you?", asks she.
"Sure, you do that, we'll be back in a mo", answered one of the chaps.
The friendly waiter went on about her business serving other punters and generally being lovely to all and sundry as we are required to under law. It had been ten minutes since her charming and somewhat giddy table of four had slipped out for a smoke. She just assumed that they were having a two-er. It was a late summers evening and still quite warm outside so she didn't blame them for loitering a bit longer outside. She thought nothing of it.
But as ten minutes turned into twenty minutes she became a bit concerned that they still hadn't returned. It was getting late and like most waiting staff she had a date with a beer that she didn't want to be late for due the smoking habits of a boozed up four top. She went to retrieve them.
She checked the front of the building.
She checked the back of the building.
She checked round the side of the building and then the bar and then the toilets eventually ending up back where she started, standing beside an abandoned table of four.
"Rotters", she exclaimed, or words to that effect.
"They've done a runner!" She was crestfallen. How was she to explain this to a manager? A table of one skipping out on a busy Saturday night is one thing but losing a whole table of four on a quiet Tuesday is hard to justify. As she pondered her next move she spied the bags and jackets.
"They've left the bags and coats", she squealed with excitement. Bags and jackets would mean wallets and id's and maybe even phones. They could be traced and the wrong put right.
"Hurrah!", she exclaimed, or at least something like that and lifted the first bag and pulled in open.
"What the fuck?", she roared, exactly like that.
"What the fuck?" She really was confused.
The formerly friendly waiter pulled at the contents of the bag like a child digging through wrapping paper on christmas morning to get to the present. But alas for our waiter there was no present nor wallet or id of any form. There was instead newspaper, old crumbled balls of paper.
"Balls, balls, balls, balls, balls." I don't think she was counting them out.
What the waiter said next isn't recorded but I like to think it involved many uses of the "c" word mixed with threats of violence. It had all become sparklingly obvious to her what had just happened, she had been had, in the worst way, by pro's.
They had gone to a local charity shop and purchased some cheap jackets and bags, probably for under £20 for the lot. It was the sort of tat that from a distance looks okay but on closer inspection you just know it came from a charity shop. It was the sort of shite you would be happy to exchange for a free slap up dinner. They even had the audacity to tell her they were going for a smoke and she said she would watch their stuff. This hurt the most.
This is of course another unforeseen consequence of the smoking ban (one that I heartily approve of now, obviously), this shit never happened before the ban!! So if you are going for a smoke during your meal this weekend don't be surprised if the waiter comes too, just to keep an eye on you.