Just when I start to think I have run out of things to bitch about, just when I start to think I’m too hard on the general public, I get to bask in the musky odor of a brand new flavor of bullshit.
Okay to be fair this isn’t really all that new. I’ve seen similar situations happen to other people, but this one had a slight variation in the overall stupidity of it.
The Other Day* our new and awesome hostess warned me that the lady she just sat me with was a rude bitch. Believing that anybody has the right to feel frustrated and stressed out after a day’s work and said stress can make people appear angry or rude, I took it as a special challenge to treat this table well and make sure they left happy. They enjoyed their food, smiled a lot and had no complaints. When they were finished enjoying their Eastern delights** the wife left and the guy was charged with the task of paying the bill, which turned out to be a duty way above his pay grade.
Their check had been down about five minutes and I went in the BOH to get a drink refill or something and when I came out I saw the guy at the host stand trying to pay the hostess. This is so commonplace it blows my mind. Pay Your Server isn’t written in a lot of places in my restaurant but it just seems obvious (to me at least) that you should pay the person who brought you your bill. I realize that there are lots of different restaurants out there that process payments differently, so leeway must be given in this regard. But that’s where my sympathies ended for this asshole.
Right before I got to the host stand to get this guy’s money, he had already paid the hostess. His check was something like $37.11 and he gave her $38.26, but he couldn’t figure out why he was only getting back a dollar and three nickels. Hell I can’t really blame him. We couldn’t figure out WHAT the fudge the thought process was behind that exchange.
So instead of, I don’t know, leaving any sort of tip whatsoever, he takes his dollar and starts walking out the door. He kept saying ‘I left my money out in the car. I’ll be right back to give you a tip.’ And ‘I’m definitely going to leave you a tip. I’ll be right back.’
What I thought was: Yeah right, you purple dickvein-looking lanky banjo-plucking sister-fucking shit shoveling hillbilly. You won’t come back.
What I said was: ‘Okay. Sure.’
As soon as he got out the door, I thought about what I SHOULD’VE said, which was: ‘Okay. Sure. I’ll even follow you out to your car so you don’t have to go through the trouble of having to walk back in. It’s no problem at all.’
So in the future (you know-later), if a table ever tries to tell me my tip is out in their car and they’ll be right back with it again, I will totally be glad to follow them out to their car so they don’t have to come back in the restaurant. So that I could provide the very best service possible, of course.
The tip would be the same either way but I will at least get the satisfaction of calling them out on their bullshit to their face. If you are going to stiff me, that’s one thing. I’m sure you have your reasons, though I would question their legitimacy. But don’t lie to my face just because you feel stupid for not being able to figure out simple economic transactions and you don’t have the huevos to own up to it. Satan’s Ex would never lie and say she would come back with a tip for you. She would just come in and bitch about everything to your face, demand an endless stream of thises and thats, and stiff you every time. And then she would come back the next day and look you in the eye and do it all over again. But she didn’t make spurious promises.
Damn, dude. You just made Satan’s Ex look good in comparison.
Thanks for not having, for me or yourself, any . . .
Dignity and Respect
Me, The JerBear
*The Other Day refers to one of the three days on the Hippy Calendar, which are: The Other Day, Right Now, and Later. Yeah, you know you’ve told someone a story about something that happened ‘the other day’ and it turned out it was yesterday. You hippy.
**Not actual menu items. This was, naturally, an homage to Eastern Delights, widely considered the Citizen Kane of Bukakke films. You know you’ve seen it. You pervo.
In an ironical turn of events, almost the exact same thing happened just last night. This cool and polite young couple had issues with their card and had to pay part of their bill with cash. Their last bit of cash. Which left nothing for poor little old me. The guy explained that he had more money at his house and that he would be right back with my tip.
I just smiled and told him it was okay and that this had just happened recently. I had a different feeling about this guy though, and I told him so. He said that he had worked in a restaurant before and confirmed my suspicion.
He promised several times that he’d be back and then he left. I was an early out so I even left. But shortly after I left I got a call from the same new awesome hostess saying that he had indeed came back.
Let me just say publicly: Thanks, Dev. Gold Star to you! You are apparently a man of your word, and that is a good thing. You didn’t have to come back that night but you did. Your display of character and courtesy did a lot for my faith in humanity.