A kitchen delay during a heaving Saturday service earned a young server a stream of abuse loud enough that neighbouring tables asked to move. We comped the meal to try and calm things down. The shouting continued anyway, on principle apparently, since the grievance had by then outlived its own cause.
A table of six ate, drank, and had by all accounts a lovely evening, then quietly dispersed through separate exits at closing without troubling themselves with the bill. A logistically impressive disappearing act, discovered only when the till didn't add up.
Cleared the plate every single time — not a scrap left, genuine enthusiasm at the table — then requested a discount or a freebie on the way out, citing a fresh, minor, entirely new complaint on each visit. We've started wondering if the complaint is the dessert course.
Arrived with his own raw meat and asked the kitchen to cook it "his way," and would not accept that this isn't how food safety, allergen tracking, or basic hygiene law works, no matter how many times or how many ways it was explained. Became confrontational when the kitchen declined to become an accessory to his home butchery project.
Booked a 90-minute table slot on a fully booked night, then settled in for two and a half hours regardless, ignoring several increasingly pointed reminders, and held up three bookings behind him in the process — before complaining about the "poor service" on the way out, seemingly unaware he was the poor service.