In this week’s installment of How You Know I’m going to talk about another damned near surefire way to tell whether or not that table you just got sat with thinks tipping is something you only do to cows at two in the morning after downing a twelve pack of lukewarm Pabst Blue Ribbon tallboys. Just like in poker there are many tells that restaurant customers give off that indicate what they’re going to do. This one is all about how people smell. Basically the rule/guideline is:
YOU KNOW YOU WON’T GET A GOOD TIP . . . If you can smell the stink of their Axe Body Spray/cheapass $1.99 per gallon swinepiss cologne and/or perfume from across the dining room. Or from the kitchen.
Tonight I had the pleasure of waiting on two tables who were sitting across from each other separated by an aisle about two and a half feet in width. The way my restaurant is set up I had to pass through this noxious alley about every thirty-eight seconds. The first table was this rednecky, Mountain People type couple. The guy’s head was still dripping wet from his Axe bath and the girl didn’t speak all that much, either because she wasn’t allowed to speak on a weekday or because the stench (or the original stench that the stench was supposed to be covering up) was so bad she kept throwing up a little bit in her mouth. The second table was this young ‘schbag who joined his girlfriend’s family and insisted on getting a separate check so he could leave a one dollar tip. Now I have no idea what these two disparate tables wound up doing after they left but I’m fairly certain their pre-dinner plans included a long, soothing bathing experience using up to ten dollars worth of their favorite soap substitute.
These people REEKED. So bad that within fifteen minutes of their arrival I developed a blistering migraine that is still skull-raping my brain at this very moment. Migraines are the bane of my existence and absolute proof that god hates me. Mine have a million triggers and less than a handful of palliative treatments. One of those triggers is strong, shitty perfumes. Or maybe it’s just the turd ridges that wear them. Either way exposure to extremely noxious chemical scents like that can start-up a chain reaction of misery where the blood vessels in my brain expand and press on my gray matter (which feels exactly like it sounds like it would) with nausea thrown in at no extra charge. I don’t mean to sound whiny but my noggin is throbbin because of those assholes’ hygiene issues. But at least they gave me the motivation to write a blog post though.
I’m not entirely certain why people who choose to douse themselves in Wal-Mart brand cologne tip like high school kids but I have a theory. It has to do with self-esteem and insecurity. If a dude (or a chick because the rule holds true for females just as much as it does for males but dudes seem to be the worse offenders) feels the need to take a whore bath before going out then he probably has a poor opinion of himself and will therefore have a poor opinion of you and in turn give you a crappy tip. The same goes for the ladies that shower in Chanel and spackle on a half-inch layer of warpaint before their 5:30 reservation at Chili’s. Ladies, if you have to put on so much makeup that it stinks, then maybe you need to dial it back a bit. The Too Much Makeup Rule is kind of like a corollary to the Axe Bath Rule. They are very similar but there’s a little bit more going on with that one.
Test out my theory though. I think you will find the same results I did. Sure you will occasionally run across a table that reeks because they just accidentally sprayed a little too much on, but 98% of the time when your table has visible wavy stink lines wafting out from them they will be crappy tippers.
Dignity and Respect
Me, The JerBear