The Birthday Dinner Breakdown

I wasn’t even hungry, but I looked amazing in the shirt I was wearing and figured a restaurant should pay me for sitting in it. So when my friend invited me to a steakhouse for his birthday dinner, I graciously accepted the invitation—meaning I showed up late, loud, and wearing sunglasses indoors.

The waitress greeted me with an “Are you with the party of twelve?”
“No,” I said. “They’re with me.”

We sat, we ordered, and when the bill came, I pointed to it like I’d found a mistake. “It’s his birthday,” I announced, gesturing at the actual birthday boy. “Why isn’t this discounted?”

She blinked. “We don’t offer discounts just because it’s someone’s birthday.”
I blinked back harder. “Then explain the free dessert you gave table 5.”
“That was for a child’s birthday.”
“I’m a man-child. Count it.”

She laughed. Big mistake. I leaned in. “Look, I could’ve gone anywhere tonight. Applebee’s has $1 margaritas and zero judgment. But I came here because I believe in small businesses—and in being rewarded for showing up.”

She left to “get the manager.” I used that time to stand up and deliver a toast to myself for being “the glue that holds this group together.” I was booed.

The manager came over, visibly bracing for impact. I didn’t disappoint.
“Is it really good business to let a guest leave feeling uncelebrated?” I asked.
He said I was welcome to leave if I felt underappreciated. I did—but not before smearing a little whipped cream on my cheek and declaring, “You just lost your most photogenic customer.”

I left with steak breath, a handful of breadsticks, and zero regrets.

Lesson learned? Just because someone else is the reason for the season doesn’t mean I can’t steal the spotlight.