Picture this: a bustling restaurant on a Sunday afternoon, brimming with diners and the kitchen operating at warp speed. Enter the ‘Church Crowd’ – 25 holy rollers with no reservation, demanding immediate service. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t go well.
Our protagonist, Kellie—known online as @ambryrae—bardic in her frustration, took to TikTok to recount this divine comedy.
In what has now become a viral sensation, Kellie paints a vivid picture of chaos in the dining hall. After informing the Church Crowd of a one-hour wait, they begrudgingly accept. However, this patience lasts about as long as a donut at a police convention. One guest persistently pestered her for updates, channeling the nagging energy of a boomerang that just won’t stay gone.
Finally, when their ludicrously large table was ready, one of the self-proclaimed saints had the nerve to complain about the lack of a private room. Because, you know, everyone carries a spare banquet hall just in case the church bus rolls in unannounced. When Kellie explained their humble establishment didn’t cater to such grandiose whims, it was met with huffy discontent.
But wait—there’s more. Before their salads even hit the table, one persistent parishioner demanded, “How long is this going to take?” Gosh, I don’t know, maybe until you sit your sanctified sitter down and place your haloed order?
When their food finally arrived, Kellie found herself in the middle of a real-life game of musical chairs—no exaggeration. This group couldn’t find a more fitting metaphor even if they tried. As they switched seats, a gentleman requested collard greens. At an Italian restaurant. Perhaps they mistook the place for a diverse food court?
As if the situation couldn’t get more absurd, Kellie heard a cacophony build from their table—tambourines and all. Apparently, it was time for an impromptu worship session, complete with instruments, while demanding other tables keep it down because they were “in worship.” Imagine that—a public restaurant turned into an unwilling chapel.
The climax came with the check—a staggering $350 bill, to be split 25 ways. Unsurprisingly, a young congregation member couldn’t cover his share. Suddenly, the saintly squad leader donned a smile sweeter than saccharine pie and asked Kellie to “bless” the young man by covering his meal. Really? Divine intervention meets financial exploitation.
Kellie countered with the radical idea that a group of 25 could collectively spare a few dollars—shocking, right? Reluctantly, the leader paid, leaving a $50 tip with a parting shot. “Well, if you weren’t charging us for his food, I would’ve tipped more.” Because nothing says Christian charity like blackmailing hospitality staff.
Reflecting on the ordeal, Kellie questioned the church’s teachings. “I just wanna know what y’all be learning in church,” she mused, “because y’all are some of the meanest, most unkind people we ever have to serve.” A grim testament to the hypocrisy often lurking behind the smiling facades of the faithful.
Here’s the kicker—Kellie’s solution? How about ratting out congregation members to their pastors for less-than-holy behavior? Now there’s some Sunday service drama we can all tune into.
What’s your take? Are the Church Crowds really that bad? Spill your thoughts—we’re dying to know!
