In the high-end restaurant world, some customers believe their status entitles them to special treatment.

When a group of “VIPs” barged in to a restaurant and harassed an innocent server, they were about to learn their influence had an expiration date.

You’ll want to read on for this one!

Don’t you know who we ARE?!

More than a decade ago, I had already switched from chef work to sommelier work, having left my first big sommelier job to take over as head sommelier/executive manager of a restaurant group.

The city I lived in was the capital, full of embassies and politicians, so high-end restaurants often hosted large parties of politicians and ambassadors.

Because of this clientele, we had very high-end wine lists at all our restaurants.

The day started off calm.

One cloudy day, I was sitting in a corner banquette, doing paperwork and enjoying some moussaka rollups.

The server on duty was busy.

She was new and didn’t know me, but I knew her.

She was handling everything fine, making sure no one waited more than a few minutes for attention.

They recognized someone else sitting nearby.

There was also a server from the restaurant across the street (not part of my group, but a regular) sitting and having a glass of house wine.

She was organizing her tips from her shift, dressed in blacks with a short black apron—similar to our restaurant’s uniform.

But that’s when all you know what broke loose.

Then, a group of six people walked in.

I recognized one as an ambassador’s aide but didn’t recognize the others — four men and two women.

One of the women had the classic Karen haircut.

This group brazenly called attention to their utter lack of care for anyone else.

They ignored the sign instructing guests to wait to be seated and instead walked straight into the dining room.

They pushed two tables together, grabbed extra chairs, and sprawled out, taking up a lot of space.

Loudly, they began discussing how “this place has a great wine list,” and one of them announced he was going to order.

Because of where they were sitting, the server didn’t notice them come in.

They had been in the restaurant for less than two minutes.

The server on duty couldn’t see them from the corner where she was handling side duties, having just been in the back serving the VIP room.

Despite the short wait, the group was already complaining about not being served.

That’s when they noticed the server from the other restaurant, who was simply enjoying her glass of wine.

So they begin to make a huge scene.

Ambassador’s Aide (loudly, unnecessarily so): “HEY YOU, YOU CAN’T DRINK ON THE JOB! WHY HAVEN’T YOU TAKEN OUR ORDER YET?!”

Karen Hairdo (not even under her breath): “I can’t believe how unprofessional that girl is! (Then, turning to the server) WE’LL HAVE YOU FIRED FOR THIS! DO YOU KNOW WHO WE ARE?!”

Ambassador’s Aide: “This is an outrage!”

She tries to set them straight.

Not-Our-Server Girl: “Oh, um, sorry, I don’t work here. I work at a different restaurant. I’m sure a server will be here to take your order soon.”

Karen Hairdo: “Don’t you give us that bull, you lazy good-for-nothing! [Incoherent mumbling]”

When the actual server arrived, she seemed to handle it well at first.

At this point, I wasn’t liking where this was going, but I decided to wait and see how the new server handled it.

She arrived with her customer-service smile plastered across her face.

Actual Server (Mandy): “Pardon me, I’m Mandy, and I’ll be your server today. Can I take your order?”

Of course, this group didn’t show Mandy the same grace.

Karen Hairdo: “FINALLY! We’ve been waiting for 20 minutes (maybe three tops) with NO SERVICE! And your colleague here didn’t even get up to greet us! She’s just getting drunk on the clock!” (Glaring at the innocent server from another restaurant.) “You need to fire her right now! I DEMAND to speak to your manager! Do you even know who I am?! I WORK FOR THE (redacted) CONSULATE! I could have BOTH your jobs for this!”

At that moment, I finally recognized her.

She was a receptionist at the consulate. I had seen her a year earlier when she attended a large office Christmas party at our restaurant.

I could have stepped in then, but I was curious how Mandy would handle it.

Mandy continues to try her best, but the group is relentless.

Mandy (apologetic tone): “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t see you arrive. Normally, people wait to be seated as the sign asks, so I couldn’t see you all sitting here. Please don’t badger our guests, though. That lady doesn’t work here and is a paying customer. I believe she works at another restaurant down the street.”

Karen Hairdo (cutting her off): “DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME, YOU LITTLE [redacted]! I EAT LIARS LIKE YOU FOR BREAKFAST!”

The rest of the group egged her on.

I could see this was escalating beyond what Mandy could handle.

The observer decided it was time to call in some reinforcements.

So, I texted the owner’s son, who lived upstairs.

He was also a part-owner and sometimes managed this location.

Conveniently, he was a bodybuilder — a huge one.

Less than 30 seconds later, I got a “brt” text from him.

Things were getting heated at the table.

Karen Hairdo (shrill, indignant voice): “WHERE IS YOUR MANAGER?! GET HIM NOW! You can’t treat us like this! WE ARE IMPORTANT PEOPLE!”

Mandy looked like she was about to cry.

The not-our-server was shrinking back into the banquette as both of them were being yelled at incoherently by the six rude flunkies.

The assistant floor manager arrived, drawn by the screeching, but the group ignored her.

So it was time for the observer to speak up.

I stood up, took a couple of steps toward them, took a deep breath, and at the top of my lungs shouted:

“QUIET NOW!”

I was an actor in high school and knew how to project.

My voice filled the room.

Everyone stopped shouting and turned to me.

They tell the group exactly what’s going to happen next.

Me (more reasonable voice level): “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. None of you need to speak to a manager. What you do need to do is grab your stuff and get out.

“I won’t have you shouting at my server or my guests. No one deserves to be talked to the way you have been. And before you indignantly ask if I know who you are — yes, I do. I know exactly who you are, and I know your boss and your boss’s boss, both of whom love eating here and would be appalled by your behavior.”

Then in came the reinforcements.

At that moment, I noticed Mathiew, the owner’s son, stepping in through the kitchen door.

Dressed in gym gear, glistening with sweat like some Greek statue of Heracles, he stood 6’4″ and nearly 300 lbs of muscle. The look on his face screamed, “I just got here, and I’m already completely done with this.”

Karen Hairdo opened her mouth to protest. I held up my hand.

The observer continues their command of the room, and Mathiew chimes in too.

Me (no-nonsense, commanding voice): “No. This is NOT a discussion. Get up and go. NOW.”

Karen Hairdo (injured, indignant tone): “Well, I never!”

Me (matter-of-factly): “And you never will again. Consider yourselves banned from this establishment.”

Mathiew (louder than necessary): “Get out of my restaurant, and don’t even think of coming back. You’re all going on the blacklist.”

Mathiew’s colossal form moved toward them. The look on his face ended any further discussion. The group grabbed their things and rushed out.

After they left, the dust started to settle.

I thanked Matt for coming down and interrupting his workout.

The manager comped the not-our-server’s meal and wine for her ruined experience.

Mandy was reassured she did nothing wrong, handled it well, and was given the rest of the day off with pay.

We pulled security footage and added the group’s headshots to our digital blacklist. But it didn’t end there.

There were going to be some big consequences for this chaotic group.

I called the consulate and spoke with the ambassador. He was appalled by his staff’s behavior.

When they returned to the consulate, they found out they had all been fired for attempting to use their jobs to bully others.

The ambassador himself came in the next week to personally apologize to our server, the manager, and the owner’s son.

He assured us that none of them worked there anymore.

Moral of the story: Never use your position of perceived power to bully others — you may end up losing that position entirely.

These people had no one else to blame but themselves for their epic (and public) downfall.

What did Reddit have to say?

Some people try for a power play, but it’s easy to throw them off.

The way you live your life matters.

One would think most people would take an employee at their word, but apparently not.

Mathiew may have come to save the day, but Mandy more than held her own.

They came for wine and respect but ended up leaving with neither!

The real house special that day was poetic justice.

If you liked that post, check out this story about a customer who insists that their credit card works, and finds out that isn’t the case.