My first impressions were: Nice mother daughter (elderly mom/older daughter) combo plus one (fucking asshole) husband (of the daughter.). Don't know about wine...apparently believe they know something about wine...whoops! We've got a grumpy boy!
Man (quivering with passive aggressive anger): The wine's a little warm, could you chill it please?"
Me (grinning with glee): Of course I can! In fact, nothing would make me happier than to get the wine to the right temperature for you!!!!!!!!!!
At this point things could have gone either way. I figured that it was going to be a completely forgettable first table, and returned with the now chilled wine. I filled every one's glass, like you do, while the man glares at me and says to mother-in-law, "I am so sorry you had to wait for the wine to chill. That's really acceptable, I am so sorry." I'm pretty sure I was supposed to get down on my knees at this point and massage his toes whilst apologising for the 5 degree problem, so I instead took their order, oddly thrilled at the sheer douche-baggery that I was witnessing.
What happens next was my favorite part of my favorite night of the week:
Shane approached the table, lifted the bottle of wine to refill our favorite grumpy boy's glass. Grumpy boy scrunched his face up in his best Grinch impression and slammed his pointer finger down on the copper table top. "Put. The. Wine Bottle. RIGHT HERE." Shane, totally blindsided by this confusing rage, walked away and congratulated me on table 12. "You've got a winner!"
Poor Jack. He didn't get the memo either. While I was bringing them their plates, Jack also attempted to fill the still-empty wine glass, because we are servers and our only fucking job is to make sure peoples glasses are full.
"I can fill my own god damned wine glass!" He shrieked.
"Oh, my god! I'm sorry..."Jack backed away, also stun-gunned. The man balled his hands into fists and cursed down at his plate, 100% furious.
My smile widened to a freakish grin. "Well sir! Is something... the matter?"
"I can poor my own god damned wine!"
"Goodness! Well this is a restaurant that you're eating in, and the staff is here to provide you with service!"
"Well it's a service I don't want!"
"That's great news! I'll tell you what- I'm just going to go around and tell the whole staff!!!! about your little preference here, and no one will bother/speak to you ever again!"
And I will tell you what- we didn't. That was the end of "service" and "verbal communication". Shane went ahead and gave me permission not to say thank you at the end of the meal, and so none of us did. But you know what- I'm ready. I'm ready, and I want to say it here.
Thank you so much for setting the bar so low- right there at 5 pm. The rest of my night was a dream, by comparison.