Karma? (The Long Version) Part I

Well, considering how my previous post was Satanic, I guess it is fitting that last night I had to wait on the Table from Hell.
A middle-aged couple sits down (probably mid-50s, early 60s), and they are waiting for another couple to arrive. The woman immediately goes to the restroom, while I greet her husband, eagerly waiting my arrival at his table. He proceeds to request a very bizarre margarita (tequila, triple-sec, Gran Marnier, and razzmatazz) for his wife, and a beer for himself. He didn't even really know what he was saying--he said his wife wanted something "different." So he took ingredients from every drink on the menu. When he ordered the margarita, I told him that I would have to check with the bartender to make sure that that was something we could (a) do, and (2) would it taste good. (Before I walked away he made sure to tell me that he needed more salsa. And he really wasn't letting me do any explaining...he was just talking.)
A manager actually visited the table to make sure they knew what they were getting themselves into price-wise.
Out of the gate: High maintenance drink order and greedy with the salsa.

So, fine. When I delivered the drinks, the woman was at the table. I set the drink down and she said she had a question about the menu. She asks her question about an item that included a shrimp based sauce over steak. She wasn't sure if she was going to like the sauce, so I assured her we would be happy to put it on the side (I do say shit like that--I have a schpeal for everything). I described the sauce pretty well (if I do say so myself) and thought that we were in a clear understanding about the dish. After I was speaking to the wife, Jerk Monkey was tapping his half-full beer bottle, nodding his head with a mouthful of the first half.
"I'll bring another beer and more salsa right out."

Drink order/Menu Questions: Pretty slow on the uptake. The wife seemed pretty ditsy when I was talking to her about the menu. Jerk Monkey (husband) = a drunk
Still high maintenance.

When I brought back Jerk Monkey's 2nd beer, he was holding a nearly-empty salsa cup up. I didn't say anything--I set down his beer and the other thing of salsa. He says, "Can you bring me another cup of water?" In the bottom of the cup was a little bit of salsa juice, that did look watered down--whatthefuckever. "I'll bring more salsa over for you." I say dryly. Jerk Monkey then says, "and bring me another beer." "Sure," I say.
The other couple still has yet to arrive.

Preliminary: He is already on my nerve. He's a greedy, sloppy drunk, and his wife is an idiot.

I took a little bit of time going back to the table because I wanted to space out the beers a little bit--if this guy was planning on ordering a beer every time I was at the table, he would be hammered by the time he left. And I knew he would eat the other cup of salsa, while he was waiting for his cup of "water." I made sure to strain every little tiny bit of juice out of that salsa. And he ate every morsel.

I returned with his 3rd beer and the other couple had arrived. They both ordered beers (Jerk Monkey ordered his 4th), and seemed relatively normal. The one woman had never been here before, so she was asking some questions. One question in particular was about the side of sauteed vegetables. I told her every single veggie (zucchini, squash, onions, peppers (red/green bell--mild, not spicy), mushrooms, carrots, broccoli, sauteed in butter and seasoned with black pepper). That's the schpeal. I gave them some time, yadda, yadda, yadda.

After dinner order: Still cringe at Jerk Monkey, but the rest of the table is pleasant. (I have a trunk-full of server characters that I dress up as from day to day, and last night, with this table, I was the dry, soft-spoken, yet polite server.) I'm not really trying to be overly-friendly at all, but I'm getting them the things they need.

A few minutes after they order, I swing passed the table, and see they need chips. Jerk Monkey taps his bottle, asking for his 5th. He orders one for his friend as well.

When the food arrived, I delivered everything neatly, telling them what everything was as I set it down (the usual treatment). My man orders his 6th, and when I set down his entree he says, "Is this the entree portion?" Well, it would be an awfully large appetizer (I think to myself). My actual response was, "It is a very filling dish, sir, but if you'd like something else, I'd be happy to get it for you." I ordered his beer immediately and as I was coming back with it, Jerk Monkey is standing by the kitchen doors. I go up to him, and he frantically tells me that there's something wrong with his wife's meal. I figured it wasn't well-done as she requested. And, as I was approaching the table, Jerk Monkey grabbed A-1 off another table and set it down in front of his wife (side note: I hate when tables grab stuff from other tables, and I'm at the table--pet peeve).
She looks at me with shrugged shoulders and says, "Where's the shrimp?" I say, "It's in the sauce that's on the side," and I point to the saucer. Maybe it was snotty, I don't know. But at that time I asked everyone how everything was, and they all said it was delicious.

When I came back a few minutes later, Veggie Woman (not to be confused with Shrimp woman), asked me for water. Jerk Monkey orders his 7th. As I'm returning, minutes later with their requests, the woman is talking to another server about water. I set her water down on the table and I delivered his beer.

Dinner: They are pissing me off. Every time I go to the table they need something, they've been helping themselves, and asking other servers for things when I'm being attentive. How much more attention do you people need??

I know I was kinda bitchy then--as I brushed passed her I said, "Your water is on the table."


To be continued...(we're just getting to the good part, too...)

As I write this, it occurs to me that they aren't actually the table from hell, but I did feel like some kind of bad karma had come my way, so my radical, bitchy self somehow transformed this table into Satan's children. Oy. Don't fret, there's more to come...I just took too long to write this, and now I'm out of time...