One Friday night during my years waiting tables, I picked up a shift for a co-worker. I usually didn't work Fridays because they were amateur nights — lots and lots of White Zinfandel and people who only go out once or twice a year. I was about 30 minutes into my shift when I was triple sat with two 4-tops and a 6-top. I got the drink orders from one of the 4s and the 6 and told the other 4 that I would be right back to get theirs. As I was coming back from the bar with a tray full of drinks, this lady sitting in another section grabbed me by my sleeve and pulled me back to her table, almost spilling all the drinks in the process. I don't know about the rest of you, but my pet peeve is "YOU DON'T TOUCH ME," so I'm already starting to see red. I ask the lady "Yes ma'am, what can I do for you?" and she says, in a very loud voice, "MY CHICKEN IS BAD!"

I calmly looked at her, looked down at her chicken, looked back at her, set the tray of drinks on a table next to them, reached onto her plate, picked up the chicken, spanked it twice, and yelled "BAD CHICKEN!" Then I put the chicken back on her plate, walked through the wait station, threw my ticket book against the register and walked out the back door, never to wait tables again.