Imagine your worst day at work. Now multiply that by 25, add a sprinkle of tambourines, and you’ve got a pretty accurate picture of Kellie’s Sunday shift from hell. Pull up a chair, folks, because you’re in for a wild ride!
Our heroine, Kellie, took to TikTok to vent her frustrations and share what it’s like to deal with the most dreaded clientele of all: churchgoers right after the Sunday service. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t pretty.
Picture it. It’s 2 PM. The brunch crowd is still lounging around, and the restaurant’s thrumming with enough activity to make your eyelid twitch. In from the sunshine and into the chaos marches the Church Crowd — 25 holy rollers strong, demanding immediate seating without so much as a reservation. Because why reserve a spot when divine intervention will surely handle it?
Spoiler: it didn’t. Kellie, in all her saint-like patience, informed this heavenly horde they’d need to wait about an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes. Did they take it gracefully? Oh, they agreed — but only in the celestial way that involves constant nagging about exactly when they’ll be seated.
Fast forward to when seating for 25 is finally ready. One voice among the flock bleated out in dismay over the lack of a private room. Well, sorry folks, the pearly gates are fresh out of private dining areas today. Maybe next time, pray for less lofty expectations.
And thus begins the comedy. Before they even got their food, the griping commenced, with one particularly pious parishioner demanding to know how long the wait for food would be. Seriously? Even celestial catering services need a hot minute to get their act together.
Once seated, the Church Crowd decided feeding time should be more of a musical number, playing musical chairs and wreaking havoc every time a breadbasket arrived. Like a gospel-infused game of whack-a-mole, Kellie had barely taken a step before another request boomed forth. One gentleman even had the audacity to demand collard greens at an Italian joint. Bible study doesn’t cover menu literacy, apparently.
Just when Kellie thought she’d seen it all, the Church Crowd upped the ante. Cue the tambourines. Yes, folks, halfway through their meal, they decided to break out musical instruments and have an impromptu worship session. And wait for it – they had the nerve to ask Kellie to quiet down another table. It’s hard to worship properly when there’s some heathen enjoying their pasta too loudly, after all.
As if Kellie’s endurance wasn’t already being tested, the plot thickened when it was time for the bill. It must’ve been a divine surprise for one young lad who couldn’t cover his share. The Church leader, who’d turned on the charm offensive, asked Kellie to “bless” him by comping his meal. Call it sacrilege, but Kellie boldly suggested the Church Crowd pool together some of their tithes to cover it.
When the divine discount didn’t come through, the leader grudgingly paid up, capping the ordeal with a meager $50 tip on a $350 bill, spouting audaciously that she’d have tipped more if only they hadn’t been charged for the boy’s meal. Because, clearly, being generous is conditional on getting freebies.
In a final reflection, Kellie marveled at the gap between church teachings and post-service behavior. “I just wanna know what y’all be learning in church because once y’all leave that church and y’all come to these restaurants, y’all are some of the meanest… some of the most unkind people that we ever have to serve,” she lamented, with dark humor to match her dark under-eye circles.
And there you have it. Another Sunday sermon, served with a side of sanctimonious shenanigans, all on Kellie’s shoulders. Got thoughts on this holy horror? Drop them in the comments below – we’d love to hear your take!
