Last night at around 10:30 a middle aged couple walked into the restaurant I work at and ordered food--even though we were closed--and required me to dwell in my appetizer station for an extra hour. I figured they were just stopping by for some quick eats because they were drunk, but they ended up ordering three course meals. They were starting to piss me off because virtually everything they ordered came from my station, disallowing me to clean my area.

Had I paid attention to the fact that the executive chef was offering the couple superior service and immaculate dishes, I would have believed the guy who told me that the man at the table was Lars Ulrich of Metallica. He said Metallica were playing a concert in Houston; so I did some research when I got home, and that's when I discovered I made appetizers and dessert for the drummer of some really shitty, famous band.