Going out when you’re super pregnant is a special kind of sacrifice. You’re the designated driver. You can’t have the good cheese. You’re just sitting there, sipping water, while everyone else has fun. But you do it because you are a social being and you still want to feel human. One woman on Reddit, however, was just punished for this very act by a server who was wildly out of line.
Our hero is 34 weeks pregnant. She’s meeting her husband and a friend at a raw bar. She knows the deal. She can’t have the oysters, and she can’t have the beer, but she’s just happy to be out. A true team player.
She walks in a few minutes after her party, and the server immediately greets her with this gem: “I see you waddling up, you can’t eat here!” I am sorry, what? “Waddling”? Our narrator, who is a much bigger person than I am, just laughed it off as a weird, “off-color joke.” She explained she was just there to hang out.
Now, we get some important context. This couple has a “thing.” Going out for oysters and beers is their special treat. And they have a system: she is the oyster expert, and he is the beer expert. She knows all the different types and flavors, so she usually orders the oysters. He knows his beers, so he handles that. It’s a beautiful, symbiotic relationship.
So, the server comes over and starts explaining the oyster selection. The wife, as per the established dynamic, starts discussing the options with her husband, telling him which ones she thinks he’d like. This is… normal. And the server, who is apparently just allergic to women with opinions, gets “annoyed” and makes a comment about how the wife is being “bossy.”
I am… screaming. “Bossy”? For knowing something? For helping her husband, who doesn’t know the oyster menu? Our hero, a queen of restraint, ignores this and orders the oysters for her husband, just like he wants.
After the first round, the husband is loving life and wants more. He calls the server back over and asks his wife to tell the server which ones he liked so he could get more. He is literally, with his own voice, deferring to her expertise.
This is where the server’s brain just completely short-circuits. At the husband’s request, the wife orders for him. And the server, looking “very annoyed,” fires off her next round of insults. She tells the wife she’s “pushing him around.”
And then, the kicker. The line that is so unhinged it belongs in a museum. The server looks this pregnant woman in the eye and says, “I hope you come back when you’re not pregnant so I can get to know the real you.”
I have no words. The “real” her? The implication that her pregnancy has turned her into this “bossy” monster? All because she… checks notes… knows a lot about mollusks?
This was the final straw. The wife, who is now being accused of having a personality problem by a stranger, finally snaps. She looks at the server and asks, “Would you like us to order less?”
The silence that followed must have been deafening. That is the coldest, most perfect, “you are about to lose your job” clapback I have ever heard. The server got quiet, walked away, and a new server helped them for the rest of the night.
Now, the wife is second-guessing herself, worried “pregnancy hormones” made her overreact. Her husband, who sounds like he would rather die than have a single second of confrontation, said “it wasn’t worth engaging in.” (Sir, your wife was just insulted three times, but okay).
Let’s be absolutely, unequivocally clear: N-T-A. This has nothing to do with hormones. This has to do with a server who, for some bizarre, misogynistic reason, decided to attack a pregnant customer the second she walked in. She wasn’t “clowning”; she was being deeply, wildly inappropriate. The wife wasn’t “snapping”; she was finally, and calmly, ending the harassment.
NTA, the server is.