Instead of calling her bluff, I decided to have some fun.I seated them in the VIP section, comped three rounds of drinks, and subtly steered them toward our priciest dishes—think truffle risotto, Wagyu, oysters at $10 a pop. No prices on the menu, of course.

Hours and $4,300 later, Meghan flipped when she saw the bill. She tried to sweet-talk her way out, then showed me fake texts from a made-up “owner.”That’s when I handed her my card: Owner & Executive Chef.Her face? Pure goldShe cried. Her friends scrambled to help cover the bill. I let them out with a polite reminder:“Next time you name-drop the owner… make sure he’s not serving your table.”