It has been my experience that well-known people such as celebrities or sports figures enter a restaurant with discretion. They're not hiding who they are behind Groucho Marx glasses and a top hat, but neither are they flaunting their status to the crowd. These people often go overlooked by everyone else in the restaurant because of their low-key presence.
Then there are people who wish they were famous. They might be a comptroller from Omaha or a homemaker from Jersey, but they really want people to notice them. We have a guest who everyone mistakes for a rock star simply because he looks like Rob Zombie and dresses like Ozzy Osbourne. He's in a leather jacket when it's ninety degrees out. He flashes his many rings when he picks up his wineglass. He always, always, wears sunglasses inside the restaurant. I'm not saying this to judge him or people like him -- you do you, Mr. Heavy Metal Legend that Never Was, and keep buying expensive wines while you're at it. I actually enjoy watching the heads turn and listening to the chatter start when you enter the restaurant. You cause a literal buzz.
But there's a thin line between craving a little attention and demanding it. Today's memorable guest also wanted people to look at him. He entered the restaurant with swagger, acting like Rick Ross with a hot lady on his arm.
"Table for 2, somewhere we won't be bothered, please."
He ordered a cigar from the host before being seated at a cozy booth with his date, and explained to my co-worker that they were celebrating her birthday. He then proceeded to drive everyone crazy with odd requests. Eventually he just left the table early and never came back, meaning his date had to pay the bill herself. For her own birthday dinner. Real class act, this guy. To cap things off, he also hadn't paid for the cigar he purchased at the beginning of the evening.
Fortunately, the host managed to track him down outside of our restaurant, and while he was FINALLY paying for the cigar, he muttered "This is ridiculous." Apparently this thief felt that the standard practice of paying for what you take was absurd. But I suppose that's the downside to demanding everyone's attention -- they notice when you're gone, especially when you owe them money.
So that's the end of that chapter. He was ostentatious, obnoxious, and out of the restaurant. Good riddance, right?
Until the following week.
He had a reservation for eight people, made for fifteen minutes before closing time.
PEOPLE: FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE CLOSING IS A TENSE AND SACRED TIME IN A RESTAURANT. We are usually praying that the last party is laid-back, normal, and on time.
They were not on time. They were incredibly late. As in, 45 minutes late. I passionately argued that we would be within our rights not to honor their reservation. They were 45 MINUTES LATE! And the restaurant had been CLOSED for 30 minutes! The kitchen staff had been there for 12 hours! But no one cared what I had to say.
They finally pulled up in -- no shit -- glow-in-the-dark cars. Instead of parking and coming in, they were whizzing around outside in their LOOK-AT-ME-MOBILES, while the entire restaurant staff waited impatiently. I'm sure he was happy, because other guests in the restaurant went to the windows to get a peek at what was going on. Eventually they had mercy upon us and came through the doors. Upon entering, Mr. Rick-Ross-Wannabe went to shake the host's hand, and pulled him in close.
"Listen, you don't know me," he said.
"I'm sorry sir?"
"I'm with my wife tonight. So I've never been here before with anyone else."
Now, if you ask me, begging a stranger to be complicit in your extramarital affair should carry with it a fee of at least $20. If that person is an employee from whom you tried to steal something just days prior, then the ante is upped to $50. But the man didn't give the host anything, and our host, being a professional and a much bigger person than I am, shook his head in understanding and sat the table.
Of course, the guest proceeded to be a diva just as he had done the last time he was there. The most glaring example of this is that he was too cold. It was August, the man was 300 pounds, and he was too cold. The scantily-clad women at his table were fine, but for him we had to prepare hot cocoa and fetch a blanket. I couldn't hold it in as I walked by the table -- he was bundled up as if in a Snuggie, and his two hands were wrapped around the hot mug. He was a spectacle, all eyes were on him, and he seemed satisfied.
In the end, the server who took care of him said that despite their lateness and the extra attention they required, the table paid him well. I say that sometimes the trouble isn't worth it. There's a difference between being seen and causing a scene. When a customer requires that much attention, I'm more than happy to see him out.