The Verbal Tip

I can't count how many times a table has come in, had their dinner then raved about how great the food and the service was then left a really crappy tip. It's a bizarre phenomenon that I can't quite wrap my head around and it happens to servers everywhere. We refer to it as "the verbal tip". I try to think of different scenarios that might lead some people to feel a need to glow about how fantastic I was and how much they enjoyed their meal but not feel a need to pay me. This is all I could come up with.

1. You had a great time but spent a little more than planned and didn't have enough money on hand. (Not likely considering we accept all major credit and debit cards and if your squeezing yourself that tight you probably shouldn't be eating out at all).

2. You really enjoyed yourself but you don't know how much is the customary amount to leave for good service. (In that case either you are foreign or some backwards freak that must not have been living in civilization this whole time).

3. You loved everything but you still don't see why you have to tip 20% after you spent so much money on your meal. That should be the restaurants fault for not paying you an hourly rate not yours right. So you compliment because you didn't want to think your bad tipping practices meant I was bad at my job.

I am going to place my bet that #3 is the most likely scenario for a lot of these "verbal tippers" which is going to lead me to an explanation for why you should tip me and why you in fact do not want the restaurant to pay me by the hour to serve you.

Here goes.

#1. The restaurant prices your meal according to what product and labor costs them leaving room to profit on whatever the restaurant invests it's own money on. So if you calculate what it would cost the restaurant to suddenly triple the payroll for a giant chunk of it's employees then apply that to the price of your meal what do you think would happen? I would figure that your bill would be about 15 to 20 percent higher maybe even more whether the service was great or absolutely horrible.

#2. You no longer have to tip me so I no longer have quite the incentive to tend to your needs with the zeal that I used to. You remember the days when I bent over backwards, ran around like a chicken with my head cut off, put up with your rude demanding "I WANT IT NOW" attitude. I've talked to people who come from countries where restaurants pay servers hourly or include service charges in the bill and I heard service is horrible everywhere.

Telling me I did a great job is sweet and I like some positive reinforcement every now and again but I am just like every other human being that goes to work. We all wake up, work and try to do our jobs well in hopes to make money. Servers don't have a lot of opportunity for professional advancement so I raises come from getting better at what we do so we get better tips. Also, to all the people who think that they hate servers because they just see you as a paycheck... well for the time I am waiting on you thats exactly what you are. You have a boss too, are you nice to him and working your ass off for him just because he's a swell guy? No! You do it because its your job and he pays your bills whether you think he's awesome or a total dickhead.

Lesson #3: Verbal tipping is not really tipping.

Lesson#4: The tipping system is to your advantage

The Tweens

Almost every shift there will be a table of unaccompanied minors dropped off by Mom's SUV. I'm guessing Mom wants to go get her nails or hair done in peace and quiet while I deal with her tween age children and their friends. What Mom didn't do was drop these kids off with proper math skills and dining etiquette worthy of them being unsupervised. And so the race to see who can drink the most root beer the quickest (I mean this literally. They challenge each other to who can obnoxiously consume the most soda). They order according to how much their Mom left them with for food... but don't calculate having enough for tax (which is usually the portion of the bill left in coin change) much less account for or calculate leaving a tip. I work in a nice, upscale restaurant in a very good part of town. This is not Incredible Pizza or Chuck-E-Cheese and I am not a free babysitter.

So Mom comes back in the SUV with fresh hair and nails. Picks up the tweens without so much as a care or concern for how they behaved or if they tipped. This is my job. This is how I feed myself, shelter myself, keep running lights and water on. I am not paid by the restaurant except 2 dollars an hour that is only used to make sure that the government can tax me on my tips. My tables are the only people who pay me to work and it's not a joke. You work... you get paid. Not to mention I have to tip out other employees (Hostesses, bussers and bartenders) out of my tips. So when you drop me off 5 tweens that ate 50-60 dollars worth of food, paid the bill partly in change and left me nada then I had to actually pay to wait on your kids. I appreciate that, and judging by your great parental discretion I bet your kids will grow up to be healthy well adjusted adults.

Lesson # 3: Underage diners should either A: Be Accompanied by An Adult or B: Dropped of with a knowledge of how to calculate percents and proper dining etiquette

The Inappropriate Touch

There are these couple of guys that come in pretty regularly. Older men in about their late 60's to early 70's. They are incredibly demanding and condescending to all the servers and they always boast about how much money they have and then barely tip. Well for whatever reason, they took a liking to me and started requesting me every time they came in. Lucky me, right? Not so much.

They drink pretty heavily, one of the men drinks makers mark old fashions and the other red wine. They'll sit for hours drinking all the while growing more inappropriate and then begin to hit on me. One thing about being in the service industry is that no matter how vile, obnoxious or much of an asshole you are I still have to smile and be nice to you. These old men will never know how much I want to punch them square in the face every time they touch me on the small of the back or ask for a kiss. They are like 70 and I am 24... in what Anna Nicole alternate universe do they think that I would actually enjoy and welcome these gestures? To add insult to injury sometimes they will bring in their wives and do it right in front of them which makes me feel 3 times as dirty because I look like I welcome it from my lack of punching them in the face. They'd get drunk and offer to pay for my school and invite me to wait on them at private functions at their home (Yeah right, if you act like this in public I really want to go to your house where you can really let the old and creepy hang out).

It boils down to this. I am a waitress. I am not your personal escort for the duration of your meal. I did not put on this apron to shake it for you at the table. If I wanted to do that line of work well then I would have gotten into that line of work. Trust me though it would be a lot more expensive than the 20% gratuity on your old fashions. And no you can not touch me, kiss me, pay for my school or have me go to your home you old bastards. Eat your f***ing food, pay the bill and go home to the sweet little age appropriate lady who for god knows what reason agreed to marry a sleazy pile of creepy like you.

Lesson #2: Well, don't inappropriately touch your server

The Sunday Post-Church Crowd

I'm one of the few people who don't mind working on Sundays. I don't go to church or have a particular faith so there is usually an air of emptiness and a pointlessness to Sunday which makes me like to keep busy. A lot of people like church and a lot of people like eating together after church. A lot of people like eating after church with all the kids and grandparents attached. Which is great and dandy unless the story goes something like this...

A family of five come in about an hour before my shift ends. Three of them are little kids. Ok, cool. "Hi my name is L..." before I can finish introducing myself the mother is barking to her kids about what they want to drink. Ok fine, she has three kids to deal with so we will let that slide.

Lady: "What kind of juice do you have?"

Me: " We have orange, pineapple, grapefruit and cranberry."

Lady: "Do you have apple juice?"

Me: "No, Mam"

(Me in my head: We have ORANGE... PINEAPPLE... GRAPEFRUIT and CRANBERRY.)

So the lady starts to order the drinks, meanwhile her kids start whining and throwing a fit to me that the crayons are rolling around too much on the table. (What am I supposed to do about that? Whittle them into square shapes? It's a crayon, it's freaking round kid. Round shapes roll. Deal with it.)

So then the husband sits down. He looks about as excited to have Sunday lunch with his family as I imagine people look when being diagnosed with herpes. Who is he going to be rude and demanding to because his kids are obnoxious and messy? Well that would be me. So I go get the drinks and come back. The mother orders fettuccine alfredo for her kids and telling me to make sure they cut the chicken up into really little bits. (Would you like the cooks to chew it for your children too while they are at it?) So before I leave the table, the husband has already downed lemonade number one. (Let it be known... the glasses where I work are huge. If they were little I wouldn't be as disgusted as when people gluttonously down them over and over again). So I return with lemonade number 2 and the baby has begun gloriously screaming at the top of his lungs.

Lady: "Don't you have some bread or something?" (Rudely)

Because somehow it is my fault her baby is crying. We do not just give out complimentary bread at this particular restaurant. Most people just assume and feel entitled to all restaurants giving out some free bread, chips or crackers.)

So I go fetch her some bread and bring out her kids chicken fettuccine cut into small little bits. Husband has downed lemonade #3. They order lasagnas. I return with lemonade # 4 and their kids are whining for more bread. Within the 1 minute those kids had food in front of them there was a tornado of noodles, white sauce, bread bits dirty napkins and crayons everywhere. I try to do a little bus to keep it neat but I am no match for this family. I figured it was just the kids until I brought out the adult's lasagna and then realized these people are just barbaric like the vikings. Were they raised in a civilized manner where people eat over the plate? I guess not.

So they finish up and ask for the bill. I bring them the bill which totals about $60. They pay then leave. I return to bus this horrific disgusting mess they left. I almost took a picture of it for this blog just to prove I am not exaggerating. There was food, soiled silverware and all kinds of little horrors that made it to the walls, mushed in the carpet, smeared on the booth. So, it's an hour past when I am supposed to be off. I cleaned it up and picked up the checkbook. They left me 5 dollars for a $60 bill = .08 %.

It was a such pleasure waking up on Sunday morning to come cater to your pleasant family after church and clean up after your sweet little offspring.

Thanks, Jesus loves you and please come again.

Lesson #1 of Dining out: The Tip

15-20%: Good service. (Your server was friendly to you, answered all your questions, responded to your needs as timely as possible).

10-15%: Is a bad tip. It should be reserved only for really bad service ( Your server was not friendly to you. Your drinks were not filled and you and your needs were for the most part ignored).

0-10%: Only if you are so mad you plan on never ever going to that restaurant again because if you got good or decent service and left that as a tip trust me you will never get good service there again.

Something I find to be true in many but not all cases are that people do not tip according to the quality of service but out of some selfish sense of entitlement that they can leave whatever they feel like because it's left up to their discretion. i.e I already spent 60 dollars on food... Why do I have to give her $12 too? Because asshole, I just worked for you and that is the customary amount to pay me for the job. If you came to work for me and I just felt like paying you half that day because I'm a selfish asshole then how would you feel? I am a luxury not a right. If you don't want to tip then how about cook at home and clean up after yourselves people.

Introduction

I am a 24 year old design student by day and a waitress by night. I've been waiting tables off and on for about 6 years and decided I wanted an outlet to put the general merry go dining population into the shoes of that person on the other side of their night out with the family or friends.

All the downsides of the job aside, I really do appreciate that it allows me to pay my bills working part-time while simultaneously trying to pursue a degree. I really appreciate the people that come in and understand that I am working hard to support myself while I go to school and decide to treat me like a human being with a name and a face. I apologize in advance to all of these people for all the bitching that will occur in this blog because it is not directed at you. Now as for the latter... the people who come in with a sense of entitlement and treat servers like personal slave labor. Well, here are your stories...