Four people came into the bar section of the restaurant, the women ordering white wine while debating on the pros and cons of getting a bottle. They finally settled on glasses and I left them at it. In comes 2 other friends of theirs, and the other woman decides to order white wine as well. The other two women start to get excited and suggest opening a bottle.

"Can we change our orders to a bottle of white wine instead of glasses?"
"Uh... let me just check with the bar if the drinks have been poured."

I spot the bartender putting in the last few drops of wine into the second glass and lets the table know. Girls look around table in that I-want-a-friggin-bottle-of-wine kinda way.

"Is it possible for you to pour back the wine?"
"I'm sorry, but we can't do that."
Are you really asking me to pour back wine into the bottle and let other people drink it? Do you little bitches like drinking recycled wine yourselves?
"Is Darren in?"
No, he fucking isn't. And prissy little white wine drinkers like you ain't gonna get special treatment just because you know the owner. Everybody knows Darren, if you have the cash, I'll even give you his number. But until then, stop asking for extra white wine on the house and the best seats because frankly, we just don't give a shit that you know Darren.

Another group of six comes in, consisting of middle-aged couples desperately trying to show off their latest diamond rings and trips off to the South of France. I take their order and when the food arrives, announces it to the table for the man who ordered it.

"Excuse me sir, your spaghetti with bacon and meatballs."

I get a blank look from the man.

"Who ordered spaghetti with bacon?"
Whole table looks confusedly back at me.

"Sir, YOUR spaghetti with bacon."