Bitch, Aren't There Drugs for That?

I consider myself to be an amazingly good judge of character. I’m not bragging I just happen to have a gift. But, when I misjudge somebody, boy do I really fuck it up! When you check out our post for OneWed today (it'll be up shortly), you will read one of the most shockingly atrocious, yet totally juicy stories I have ever heard about some crazy, entitled bitch bride. It’s not MY story, but sadly it is quite true, and my poor friend and fellow wedding planner who had the horror of working with this bitchalicious bride, barely made it through the wedding. While the story I’m about to tell is pretty bad, I’ll let you be the judge as to which is worse...

Back in my days spent being horribly taken advantage of at a luxury hotel property, I booked the wedding of Brenda & Ben. They seemed completely normal, excited about the big day and even kind of cool. I had spoken with Brenda on several occasions, and this site visit just as pleasant as our phone calls. After two hours in the ballroom gathering ideas, looking at linen, flatware, etc., we had a celebratory glass of champagne in the hotel’s lounge. After they signed the contract, we all walked out of the hotel together at 9:30 PM. I even got a hug goodnight from BOTH of them. (There were no red flags on the horizon.)

Over the next few months, our relationship was what I would consider “normal”. And when it came time to book their food tasting, we planned it for a Thursday evening at 6 PM. My chef wasn’t thrilled because the hotel was quite busy with existing events, but after going back and forth several times I was able to convince him that I would upsell the shit out of his food, and it would be worth it for both of us.

At 5:45 PM, the evening of the tasting, Brenda called and told me that Ben was pulled into a last minute meeting, and “can’t we just push it to Saturday afternoon?” Like it was that easy… I told Brenda that I would see what I could do, but I needed time to convince my chef, because Saturday tastings were typically a no-go. Miraculously, the chef agreed to the change because he was “in the weeds” with our current events, and told me that I could “do whatever I wanted”… So I told her yes, “I’ll see you at 11:00 AM on the 24th”. (Yikes! Is that a red flag in the distance?)

To this day I still don’t have a reasonable explanation for what happened, but for some reason, the chef didn’t show up. Yeah… It was the first Saturday in FOREVER that our ballroom was dark (empty with no events), and he must have forgotten (or chosen to forget)… The kitchen was functioning with a skeleton staff, and as I continued to receive the chef’s voicemail, I knew I was in some serious shit.

Brenda arrived and was super excited, while Ben just looked tired. It was 11:03 AM. I made some small talk in the lobby for a few more minutes; excused myself to try the chef one more time only to receive his voicemail again. I knew I had to break the bad news. 

“My apologies, but it appears as though the chef has had a family emergency.” I said tasting the lie in my mouth (but, what was I going to do? I mean, as much as I wanted to throw him under the bus, I don’t roll that way…). 

“What?” she spat.

“The chef cannot be on property at this time. I am so sorry.” I said in my most apologetic voice.

“What does that EVEN mean?” she said. (Hmmm… did I stutter?) “How the fuck are all of these people going eat?” she asked pointing to the restaurant. (Mayday mayday… about to crash and burn in a forest of red flags!) 

“I understand that this is a huge disappointment, it is for me too, but how about we have some lunch together and talk about your wedding?” I asked.

“How do I know that this isn’t YOUR fault? Are you just lying to cover your own ass? I bet you forgot to tell your chef.” She said with disgust.

Oh boy… the gloves are off bitch.

“With respect Brenda, you cancelled the original tasting fifteen minutes before it was supposed to begin. Things happen that we can’t control sometimes, and again I am really sorry. We were actually quite lucky that the chef agreed to a Saturday tasting because he doesn’t typically allow them. C’mon, let’s have some lunch (and several cocktails), and talk about your wedding.” I said.

“We’re done. You and me Bitchless. I don’t want to work with you anymore. From now on, I will be working with your boss.” She said, turned on her heal and walked away from me.

Ben just stared at me. “I’m sorry about her, but…” he drifted.

“Me too.” I said.

That was a tough day for me. It was the first (and only) time I had been fired. And the worst part is that I truly didn’t do anything wrong! My chef fucked up, and what was I going to do? Tell her that there was no emergency and that the chef disappeared? That would only make her question if he’d show up for her wedding. I mean, it was tempting, but I am way too classy and professional for that kind of shit.

Unfortunately (for my boss), this was the beginning of Brenda’s transformation from perfectly “normal” Brenda into “bitchalicious B”… And, nobody, including me saw it coming…

So brideys… Stories like this or the horrific one I tell on OneWed are why those of us in “the industry” need a place like Bitchless Bride to vent. But more than anything else, we are truly hoping that you learn from these stories, and don’t repeat them yourselves! Shit happens, is going to happen and will definitely happen during your wedding planning, and it’s up to you how you deal with it. You can either let it ruin your entire outlook or you can realize that this is a pretty small “thing” in the big picture and move forward. Right? 

Stay Bitchless…