People share their best pizza delivery stories, waitressing stories or customer stories detailing how they got revenge in a restaurant. Customer revenge or server revenge, it's all good. See how these hard working people added a little spice to their lives and brought justice to their profession and find revenge for their food or lack there of.
Last Shift, Best Shift
“I used to deliver pizza for Dominos.
It was my last shift and there was this house that was always rude (I called to asked what the house looked like and they said ‘I gave you the address’ and hung up), never tipped, etc. I got to their house and they gave me a check for 1 cent less that what the total was. I said ‘I am going to need the extra penny.’ They grumbled off and took their time hoping I would give up but I just sat there holding the pizza. They finally came back all angry and gave me the penny. Note that they had no intention of tipping.
They gave me the penny and I chucked it out into the street and left. They saw me do it. It was SATISFYING.”
Dine and Dash Revenge
“Two guys come in on a date who have clearly never met before, probably met on a dating app or something. It’s a fairly upscale steakhouse so they order a dozen oysters each, lots of drinks, and expensive salads. Before they order entrees their check already costs a lot. As I’m walking with their steaks (2 porterhouse +++sides) they say they’re going for a smoke. No problem, they’ve been flirting heavily and just ordered a decent bottle. They’ll be back for the meaty goodness, just want to make out for a minute or so…..right?
NO. 45 minutes later. No sign of them, and I’m left with a $500 open tab. I almost cried/vomited/freaked.
Luckily, my manager (who was awesome) saw them leave, and had even offered them their coats as it was too cold to smoke outside. Never crossed her mind they were jetting – she SAW them see and comment on the delicious steaks heading to their table. As soon as we realized they were gone, she fretted for a minute then told me not to worry about the check, and she’d deal with the big boss as it absolutely wasn’t my fault.
But wait – it gets better. This was the week the iPhone came out. After giving them a good 90 minutes to be sure, I cleared the table. Oh ho, what is this? A phone that costs more than the value of your dine and dash? Into the safe it goes, with your bill. The slightly older, wealthier seeming guy turned up about three hours later.
‘Uh, I left my iPhone here, I’m gonna need it back.’
‘Uh, you left a $500 tab here too, so you pay one, you’ll get the other.’
‘I’ll call the cops, you’re stealing my phone!’
‘Well, I didn’t call them on you, despite having your info. I’ll be happy to tell them what happened tonight, though.’
‘GrrrrrrrAAAARRGHHHHHHHH’ and he ran out of the building and tried to jump in to an occupied cab.
What was also funny was he was so angry, when he realized the cab was occupied he started beating the bejesus out of it – the car, not the driver. A patrol car showed up within a couple of minutes and we in the restaurant got the satisfaction of seeing him cuffed and taken ‘downtown’. It was freaking hilarious.
And the best part was that he came back 2 days later, very sheepish. Owners had already forgiven the tab, but he paid it AND tipped 100%. Didn’t apologize much, was too embarrassed, but he did apologize. And paying – plus overtipping, made it all okay. And we gave him his phone back.”
“I Was Sure It Would Be My Last Day”
“My first job was at a buffet-style restaurant working as a meat carver when I was 16. One night, the line to the meat station was about 50 people deep, and I had just received a new 40 pound roast from the kitchen. A few customers in, and this big burley guy asks for a rare piece. As you might expect with a roast that size, it tends to be more done around the outside, and more rare in the middle. I told him, ‘Sorry, it will be a while before I can get to the rare stuff.’ He says, ‘Just cut that sucker in half and give me a piece from the middle!’
I’m working on a little cart with barely enough cutting space to fit the roast, let alone two halves, so I politely tell him I can’t do that. The guy goes crazy and starts cussing me out at the top of his lungs. Being a 16 yr old kid, I just sit there and take it. Finally, he leaves me there, utterly humiliated in front of a line of hungry people.
Fast forward 15 minutes or so, I’m carving away as fast as I can, still frazzled by the verbal bashing I took, and in a momentary lapse of attention, my carving knife slipped up the serving fork, and sliced into my index finger all the way to the bone. It starts literally spurting blood, like scene out of a Tarantino flick, all over the top of the roast. The line clears out immediately amid screams of horror and disgust. I go back into the office and bandage my finger, go back out to the line and start cleaning up when – who do you think shows up? He says: ‘Yeah, right there, that looks good, give me that one’. So I gave it to him. A nice big, congealed slab of it. Funny thing is, under the blood, it was still well done. Two of my co-workers saw it happen, and word promptly spread.
I was sure it would be my last day, but I never got anything more than a gruesome reputation.”
Southern Sweet Tea Revenge
“Our restaurant is situated right off the interstate I-95 so we get all sorts of strange people. One busy Friday night during peak season in the summertime, a family from New York come in and the husband starts chatting about how he’s never been this far South before. He’s heard that the sweet tea in this restaurant is ‘super sweet southern tea’ and he’s excited to try it.
Fast forward to handing out drinks: The guy takes a sip, proclaims it is not sweet enough, and hands it back. He says ‘go make it sweeter, I want that authentic southern sweetness’. I sweeten it and bring it back. He proceeds to tell me that it still is not sweet enough, and that I must send it back. Rinse and repeat this 3 times, and he’s getting more loud and rude each time.
He then makes a comment about how southerners must be dumb if they can’t even sweeten their own tea right.
I lost it. Hardcore.
In front of the family, in full view of half my section that night, I hock a loogie and spit it squarely into his glass. I put it down, stir it around for a second with the straw, then say in my most honeyed southern twang: ‘Is it sweet enough for you now, Sir?’
I then walk to the back, push my apron in my manager’s face, and say ‘I’ll quit now before you hear about what just happened and fire me.'”
“Don’t Mess With Catering”
“One time I was working a small event at the convention center as a banquet server after we had loaded in and set up. I was one of 3 servers working the event of about 100 people. There was a buffet.
The local weather man was there, but demanded I bring him a plate, pretty rude but I went and got it anyways. Get the plate to him and he demands, not asks, that I fill his coffee, there was one on the table, it was a self serve event, I pour his coffee anyway. Still being very rude.
Then this guy demands I cut his chicken for him. So, I asked how old he was, exactly who he thought he was, and who he thought I must be to take his demands, I then took his plate and announce to the entire room that if I see this man-child eating or drinking ANYTHING, I would take all the coffee, all the food back, and end the event.
He left hungry. Don’t mess with catering.”
“Ginger Tinged Nightmares”
“I worked at a local chocolatier and we were encouraged to offer free samples. We had one lady who would pop into the store every day around the same time, grab a handful of sample chocolate, and immediately leave. Our store was in a really ritzy community and, though she drove a Lexus and wore expensive jewelry, Sample Witch never bought anything. After months of this behavior, I decided to ambush her… with candy. The candy universe is a wonderful menagerie of various disparate flavors and everyone has different preferences, but one ingredient stands out as the least popular: crystallized ginger.
Even I, a professional chocoholic, hated it, and I will basically eat anything. Now, we had all different types of molten chocolate lying around for custom dipping– fresh strawberries, peppermints, bacon, fudge, gloved fingers, you name it and I could coat it in a little molten heaven. So I lovingly crafted a slew of impressively sized chocolates, each more tantalizing than the last, and each with a disgusting chunk of ginger madness lying at their center. Then I waited patiently for the appointed hour and when I spied Sample Witch on her approach I switched out the sample plate. She entered the store and we greeted her per usual, she bee-lined to the counter and grabbed a handful of what appeared to be the biggest, best chocolate samples ever seen by human eyes and scurried out the door. As she crossed the parking lot, we watched intently as she popped one in her mouth, gave a chew, and promptly spit it out into her hand as if it were on fire. After sample #2, she threw the remainder of her handful of candies out, hopped into her Lexus and drove off. It took another three days of this before she stopped coming in. Had she spent even $2 on something at any time, we would’ve gladly fed her free chocolates until diabetes took her– instead her hubris earned her repeated ginger assaults. I hope that gave her ginger-tinged nightmares.”
Grocery Store Revenge
“Back in the early 90s, supermarket cashiers had to type every price in by hand.
I was at a Vons in San Diego, walking toward the only open check stand with a single bottle of soda in my hand. Suddenly this hotty totty lady with a cart stacked to the top flew out of one of the aisles like a freight train and cut me off. ‘I’m in a hurry,’ she said, then looked away like she was annoyed that I’d been born.
I looked at the cashier. He rolled his eyes and got to work. Five minutes later she’s walking out the door and it’s my turn.
‘You’re good,’ says the cashier. ‘I put your soda on her tag.’ That felt really good, great start to my day.”
Not The Typical Revenge
“My Dad and I share the same habit of not caring what we wear when we go to our favorite stores and restaurants, majority of which are high-end. In this story,I wore a simple, ratty shirt, shorts and a beanie.
So I go into this restaurant, and got seated. The waiter was giving me the ‘Can she even afford anything?’ look I have been given way too many times. So, I got seated and the waiter just gave me the menu and left.
After a few minutes, I was ready to order and I tried calling the same waiter, but I know he is ignoring me. Then two businessmen came inside and suddenly the same waiter was sucking up.
I was about to leave right there, but a waitress came and asked for my order. I ordered and was about to ask for a manager to complain about the first waiter, but then I saw that the businessmen just ordered the cheapest thing on the menu and water and I know for a fact they are just going to treat it as a way to loiter and have a meeting or whatever. When my waitress came back, I asked if you guys have any service charge and she said no. Perfect.
The new waitress is actually very nice, which makes my plan even more satisfying.
While I’m eating, I observed where they hang out when they don’t have any customers and it’s by the counter, and the waiter and waitress are always side by side.
Eventually the businessmen leave, and guess what? They didn’t even leave a tip! You can see look of disappointment the first waiter has, so I asked for the check and leave a P100 note.
I thanked the waitress and make a show of looking at my wallet at turning around. I went to the counter and said. ‘Miss, did I gave you a 100?’ the waitress was a little sad but said yes, the waiter has this smug look to him, then I said: ‘Ah sorry, here’ and gave her a P500 note.’
She was shocked and asked that it’s too much, and mentioned the price of my meal is the same. I refused and said you deserve it for giving great customer service and left.”
Keep The Change!
“There was a guy in these ratty old apartments that we used to deliver to that would always order the same thing, so his total was like $19.82 or somewhere around there every time he called in (he would actually complain over the phone if the price changed, saying something like ‘I just ordered from you 3 days ago and the total was $19.72!’). He would always give you a $20 bill and say ‘Keep the change! Ha ha ha!’ with a grin on his face.
I told my manager one time about it, and he said ‘The next time someone does that do you, pull out your coin purse and give them exact change back and say, ‘No sir, please take it. You clearly need it more than I do”. The next time I delivered to him, I came to the door with the exact change already ready to go. He’s waiting by the building door with his creepy smile on his face, holding his $20 bill, ready for his punchline.
I walk up to the door, hand him his pizza, he hands me the $20 bill and says, ‘Keep the change! Ha!’, and I go, ‘No. Take your change, you clearly need it more than I do’, as my manager suggested. It wiped the smile clean off of his face, ‘What is that supposed to mean!?’ I just ignored him left at that point. When I got back to the store, my manager was on the phone with him, and the customer was cussing up a storm about how rude the delivery driver was to him. My manager blacklisted him for the profanity used against him on the phone, and we never had to deliver to him again.”
Where Is The Christmas Spirit?
“I used to deliver pizza, and one time I had a delivery to a brownstone house with a small stoop. It was Christmas week and we had snow/ice a couple of days beforehand.
Well, I pull up and there must have been some sort of family gathering at the house who ordered the food because there were a handful of people outside smoking and talking.
When I get out of the car, one of the people on the porch opened the door and yelled into whoever was supposed to come out and pay for the food.
The woman came to the door as I was walking up the sidewalk, I was carrying a 24 cut pie with a couple of bags filled with wings or whatever inside. I had a decent amount of food in my hands. But as I was walking, I slipped on ice and fell onto the sidewalk while everyone was watching. The massive pizza fell facedown, box open, onto the icy sidewalk to the horror of the hungry onlookers.
I remember being on the ground, in the process of getting up, picking the pizza up off the ground, and hearing this woman screaming at me. She was so mad that I dropped her food. She didn’t offer to help me up, she didn’t ask if I was ok, she didn’t apologize for having ice on her sidewalk, she just flipped out on me.
So now I’m standing there with a mutilated pizza hearing this old woman screaming me out in front of her family. I apologized as soon as I fell, but she didn’t care. For at least 20-30 seconds she went in on me for dropping the pizza.
So I threw the pizza at her feet onto her porch and got into my car and left. I took her chicken wings with me so I had some sort of proof that I didn’t deliver the food and I didn’t get paid for it.”
“As I Went To The Toilet, I Saw My Chance For Revenge”
“So, in general, Italy is known for the good food. But in Venice it was very hard to get to good restaurants. So for the entire week, I was trying to find some good restaurant/takeaway, occasionally having some great food but mostly having bad pizzas or China Restaurant selling you pigeons for ducks and so on.
But on the last day there I thought I would like to eat some good food and went to a restaurant, which was recommended by Lonely Planet. I ordered a ‘Special Menu’ and was happy that I would finally get to eat something good. As they prepared the starter I heard the common ‘ting’ of a microwave. Turns out, they were preparing Lasagne in the microwave as starter and called themself a restaurant. In Italy! The main course was worse. It was all like a mix of seafood all put together and deep fried. It tasted like deep fried turd and they were charging me $50 for it!
So at this point I was very angry and didn’t know what to do. As I went to the toilet, I saw my chance for revenge. I clogged the toilet with a bunch of paper towels and manipulated the water supply so that the next person that flushed would make the toilet overflow. I calmly returned to my table and smiled to the waiter asking for the bill. A few minutes later, I saw a dude who went to the bathroom after me come out with his cheeks flushed red. At that point the water was surely flowing out of the toilet and in to the nearby storage room containing all the microwave food this so called ‘restaurant’ had.”
“Sorry, But I Can’t Tip You”
“I was a waiter for four years at a highly trafficked diner and this was towards the end of it (when I was getting really burnt out). I took this HUGE to-go order for a company lunch, something like 30+ meals for these people. It was somewhere around $330 total if I remember correctly.
I scaled back the number of tables I was taking from six to three so I could properly label, sort, organize everything for this order. I spent a long time on it labeling everything correctly, like noting which burger had bacon, which type of pancake was in there, which tacos were flour or corn, etc. At the end I had SIX giant carryout bags packed with stuff.
When the guy came in, I greeted him and took all the bags out and the first thing he says to me is ‘I’m sorry but I can’t tip you.’ I wasn’t expecting the world of this guy but I had taken a lot of time on it and I was hoping for, say, $20. I had easily missed out on $30 in tips at this point. I told the guy that I have to tip out on my total sales and this order alone would mean I would have somewhere around $7 in payouts to support staff, so I definitely losing money. He was really flippant with the whole story about how it’s a business account and they don’t allow it and blah blah blah. I respectfully told him that there’s a lot I did for them to make it easier for everyone, so he thanked me and left.
The next week they called again and put in a same-sized order but my manager knew they wouldn’t tip and so he took the order. I did offer to ‘help’ the order with him, and he had no idea it was me who had done it the week previously. So I straight-up didn’t label anything, or the things I did label were my personal restaurant shorthand. Black bean tacos on corn with no green onions or cheese? BBCoNGoNC. Ham and cheese omelet, add mushrooms? 14/OmlM. 12 pancakes got 10 syrup containers, the little ones, and we usually give extra if you’re nice. And so on for every stinking piece of food in those six bags. I never heard anything about it but I hope they all got confused and ate cold, soggy food.”
Watch Out For The Barista
“When I was working as a barista, we had a regular that would come in a couple times a week and would act like an entitled king to all the employees. He would always order a double espresso with his meal, claiming he was ‘very busy and needed his caffeine’ and insist we serve it to him after his meal. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but he would never tell us when he was finished eating, he would expect us to keep an eye on him and bring it as soon as he was finished (this was not a cafe with table service.) He would obnoxiously clear his throat and make snide comments at us until we noticed and brought it to him where he would complain about the terrible service and not tip.
I always gave him decaf.”
“I Was Going To Take Justice Into My Own Hands”
“I used to deliver pizza for Papa John’s.
There was a family who was a known stiff (we always remember bad tippers). But these people were more than just bad tippers. They would take it a step further and complain about something in order to get another free pizza brought out to them. So, someone would end up having to take two runs for two stiffs.
One day, I decided that I had enough and was going to take justice into my own hands. They ordered, got their pizza and as expected called back with a complaint. I made their second pizza and instead of cutting all the way through the pizza, I only cut through the cheese.”