I had a couple sit down, promptly order a bottle of red zinfandel, and immediately complain that it was terrible. I asked what they didn’t like about it, so that I could perhaps suggest another red that would better fit their needs, but their sole complaint was that it wasn’t sweet. They were expecting white zinfandel. They then tried the grossest sweet whites we have, like the riesling that sells at the grocery store for $6, but in the restaurant for $20something, but none were sweet enough. Moments like these I find it hard to hold back all of the things I would like to say:

Is Arbor Mist your favorite wine?

Why don’t you go over to the grocery store and pick up a box of Franzia?

Why did you try to buy a $25 bottle of wine in the first place when you went out of your way to pick the cheapest food on the menu?

I’m not even a wine snob, but I at least have a taste for a red zinfandel that doesn’t have 100mg of sugar in every sip. But hey, I guess working in a restaurant just makes me freak out about every dumb customer when you start to wonder how they even manage to live in this world.

Electrical meltdown. Sparks were flying from the fuse boxes and outlets, every bit of metal in the restaurant flowed with electricity, meanwhile an 80 year old man at my table complained that his meal was not lightly toasted, but too toasted. Perhaps he performed voodoo on the toaster oven because soon after, that fuse blew too.

Get me out of this town!