The Tale of Mr. & Mrs. Leatherface

Here begins the tale of Mr. & Mrs. Leatherface. Location: "Linguine Bistro", Ft. Myers, Florida. My part in this tale: temporary Assistant Manager brought in to help restaurant that has been struggling with only two managers instead of the usual four. The scene: my second night on my own, a busy Friday night.

Into the later part of the rush, approximately 9:30pm, one of the better servers comes up to me holding the check presenter in his hand. "Hey, Ex-restaurant Manager, my table would like to talk to you."

Me: "Okay, fill me in on what's happening."

Server: "Well, there's this couple that comes in all the time. They order the "honor system" house wine every time, drink the whole bottle, and then claim they only had two glasses. Tonight, they brought in two friends, drank two bottles, and claimed only four glasses. [One 1.5L bottle will completely fill 5 1/2 of the 9oz glasses] They've done this every time since I started over 2 years ago, and nobody else would wait on them. No other manager has ever said anything to them, they just take it off the bill, and are done with it."

Me: "You're shi**ing me!"

Well, off I go, offending check presenter in hand, to confront our "guests". I put on my "friendly manager" face and walk over to the table. Approaching the table, I'm confronted by the snarling faces of Mr. & Mrs. Leatherface and friends. They had the pusses of two people who had too much time on their hands, and spent it all in the sun doused in Pam. The servers definitely were not exaggerating with the nicknames. What had once been, I think, two attractive people, now resembled Pruneface from the old Dick Tracy cartoons, mixed with a little aged Spalding baseball glove. These were two people who would never be accused of succumbing to plastic surgery. Or having scruples.

Me: "Hi folks, your server has told me that you have questions with your bill?"

Mr. LF: "Yes, your server has overcharged us on the wine!"

Me: "Well sir, my server said he opened up two fresh bottles of house wine for you, and here they are, still on your table, bone dry."

Mrs. LF: "But we do this every time, we are never questioned about it, so it is your policy to never question us about it. Now, go take it off the check, and bring it back with just 4 glasses on it."

Me: "Well, Ma'am, it's called the honor system, because you're supposed to be honorable when claiming the number of glasses you've had. He charged you for two bottles, and you drank two bottles."

Mr. LF: "Are you calling us liars? Because if you are, we'll have your job!"

Realizing that this was going nowhere real fast in the middle of a busy dinner, I tried to negotiate with them. "Okay, how's about we just charge you for 8 glasses and call it a night?"

Mr. LF: "I won't pay for more than 4 glasses and that's my final offer."

Me: "Sir, I'm trying to be reasonable. I'll make it six, but I will not go any lower."

I turn to leave and head for a register with my hands shaking like Lindsay Lohan in rehab. I change the check and hand it to the server to take back to the table, since I didn't trust myself to go back and face the assholes. I know, I know, I can be a chicken-shit at times, but I truly felt that I could not be professional with them anymore. All of the servers, it turns out, had been watching from the side of the restaurant, silently cheering me on. Turns out, none of the other managers even bothered talking to the Leatherfaces, and they now considered me a hero for confronting them.

Scene Two: a couple weeks later, the Leatherfaces return. I'm near the host stand and see them being led to a table. I check the sections, see who's going to be their server, and grab him before he goes to the table. I inform the server that if the LFs order wine, to take it two glasses at a time, and to give them a new check each time he delivers them to the table. A-ha! Fool me once, etc.

Server: "Ex-RM, table 51 wants to see you right away."

Me: "No problem."

I arrive at the table just as they are blusteringly getting up to leave. In a huff, they yell over their shoulders, "We've never been so insulted in our lives!" as they make a bee-line to the exit. All the servers break out in applause, for it seems that not only do the LFs cheat the restaurant out of income, they are generally 10-percenters as well. Well, I informed the GM of all these going ons, and he supported me in what I had done. Even though this corporate chain usually says the customer is always right, this GM had my back.

A week or so later, Mr. & Mrs. LF come in on my off night and get My GM. Their server informs him of their identity and he enacts the same policy that I had before. Well, the LFs proceed to make a stink in the middle of the dining room and the GM tells them they must leave or he will call 911. Well, they leave, but they stand outside the entrance yelling and telling all arrivees how we suck, etc. The cops are called and the policemen tell them forcefully to leave. GM has banished them from the restaurant. Is the nightmare over, you ask? What do you think?

A couple of weeks later, who should be standing at the host-stand when the LFs walk up.

Me: "Hi folks, I didn't think I'd see you again in here."

Mrs. LF: (Digging in her purse) "Well, I just wanted to show you that your "big boss" says that you're wrong in how you treated us and that we're supposed to get a free meal!"

Me: "And what is the name of my "big boss"?"

Mrs. LF: "I don't know, but as soon as I find that letter, you'll be singing a different tune!"

Me: "Ma'am, unless I get a personal phone call from this "big boss", or you have a letterhead with his signature on it, I don't have to give you anything."

Mrs. LF: (triumphantly waving an envelope in the air above her head) "See, here it is right here, now you have to let us in and give us whatever we want!"

Me: "May I see that?"

Mrs. LF: "No, I won't show it to you!"

Me: "Ma'am if you don't show it to me, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." I turned to the Hostess and said loudly, "Dial 91, and if they won't leave, dial the last 1."

Surprisingly, they turn around and leave calmly. A couple of weeks later, I'm transferred to North Miami Beach, and never see them again. (Or so I thought)

A few months later, I'm in North Miami Beach at the "Linguini Bistro" there, standing at the host-stand and who should walk in???!!! You got it. The Leatherfaces.

Me: "Hi folks! What brings you all the way over from Ft. Myers?"

Mr. LF: "Uh...uh...table for two, mumble mumble."

I seat them, and immediately grab their server to fill them in. They order two glasses of house wine with their meal, eat very fast, and leave with no problems. I'm left with a very warm feeling inside.

End of story.