We Know Who You Are, by Dalia Jurgensen:

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Most people love the idea of being regulars at their favorite restaurants or cafes, thinking that their frequent visits earn them special treatment or at the very least, a familiar greeting or free dessert. However, with the help of computerized reservation systems, we know a lot more about you than you’d probably hope, and we have it all recorded.
 
We know how many times a month you come to our restaurant, and which table (or glass of wine or waiter) is your favorite. All of this helps us keep our good customers happy. But we also know if you’ve ever been late, if you always show up late or worse yet, if you have no-showed one too many times, in which case you are definitely not one of our favorites, no matter how much you pride yourself on being a “good” customer.
 
We remember if you tip well (or not), or if you are a “whale,” someone who spends a lot of money. If you are a really big whale, your late arrivals might be forgiven, at least a few times. If you are a whale who makes us laugh (or more likely, makes us laugh at you) you might get a nickname next to your real name on the reservation list. For years, we referred to one whale of a customer solely as The Guy Who Thinks Tanaka Is Chinese, because he repeatedly presumed that Tanaka, a thoroughly Japanese sommelier, was Chinese. Even Tanaka played along, and thanked him for wishing him a Happy Chinese New Year.

But being a big spender isn’t the only thing that can get you noticed. Throw-up Lady came in periodically to eat numerous entrées, appetizers and desserts and drink large amounts of red wine, only to disappear periodically to the bathroom where, presumably, she made more room. She was not to be confused with Anorexic Lady, the rail thin customer who ate only a few bites of each course claiming to be stuffed.
 
The Prince of Darkness, an actual member of some country’s royalty, insisted on being served only by one or two particular waiters and no one else. He snapped to get their attention, and dismissed all others with a wave of his hand. Behavior fit for a prince of his caliber, I guess he would say. My Chef decided he was Satan, aka The Prince of Darkness.
 
Serial Killer came in often, and always with a different beautiful woman. Serial Killer was handsome and suave and a tiny bit strange, just the type of man that would be able to lure in victim after beautiful victim. I suppose Serial Killer became a victim himself of bored waiters just passing the time.

Dalia Jurgensen, Spiced, pastry chef, cooking, Penguin Books