The absentee parent
Lets their child(ren) run wild amidst the Elysian Fields of the restaurant floor, shrieking and running into server legs to their heart’s content. Seems to regard servers as professional babysitters. Treasures the ketchup and mustard finger painting of their hellspawn like it was the world’s finest artistic creation and also refuses to do anything to clean it up. Also totally cool with their child dumping out all the sugar packets into a pile like they’re about to make a sculpture a la Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters. Frequently travels in mom pairs to maximize the horribleness, though solo travelers are just as likely to be dads.
The field marshal
By nature is part of a large party (at least six), and clearly self-identifies as Supreme Allied Commander of the group. Tries to order for everyone at the table -- “Oh, you don’t want [x], [y] is much better -- get them [y].” Believes they know exactly what every other member of their party needs at any time and will loudly bark at the server to get it even over that customer’s protestations. Will almost certainly complain about the automatic gratuity on large parties. Likely another member of the table will privately come up to you toward the end of the meal and apologize for them.
The bargain shoppers
Makes homemade (free) lemonade out of lemon slices, sugar packets, and water. Will attempt to make complimentary bread/nachos/rice serve as 90% of their meal. Will demand constant refills on all of the above, because clearly they’re more important than all of your actual paying customers. Will attempt to return any entree on made-up bullshit grounds just to get it taken off the check. Restaurant won’t throw them out because “the customer is always right,” and because these assholes would immediately complain to corporate and you know those idiot desk jockey chucklefucks would take THEIR side in a heartbeat. ALWAYS a group (usually a family) -- never, ever travels solo. Tip? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
My maternal grandmother
Is from the Old Country. Has 50 questions for the server about a dozen different menu items, none of which she will wind up ordering. Calls food by the wrong names (mixes up “meatloaf” and “burgers” as well as “roast beef” and “pot roast”) and then gets annoyed when the hapless server doesn’t know what she actually MEANT (also continues to call the food by the wrong names no matter how many times you point this out to her). No matter what she gets or how many Michelin stars the food deserves, insists “I make better,” despite the fact she very, VERY much does NOT make better and once served family guests a lime Jell-O mold with tuna fish floating in it because she’d heard of aspic but hadn’t fully understood the concept. Has very strong opinions about food like sushi because she “doesn’t believe in raw fish,” despite the fact you’ve regularly seen her eat lox, which is close enough that she doesn’t have a leg to stand on in this argument (don’t @ me). Possibly says something vaguely racist in a stage whisper during the meal. Has literally no concept of irony. Her family loves her but would rather have ocular surgery sans anesthetic than go out to eat with her if it can possibly be avoided.