How You Know You Won’t Get A Good Tip #5: Transaction Jackson

Everybody deserves to get a Mulligan every once in a while, especially if they are new to something. First time patrons can certainly be forgiven for not knowing their way to the bathroom or not knowing what time the restaurant closes or not knowing that ‘Soup or Salad’ is a choice and not a Ballin! ass salad.

But some people come in and you would swear they have been cave-next-door neighbors with Bin Laden for the last few years because they stare at their check like a monkey stares at a banana covered in shit. They just have no idea what to do with it.

My favorite type of these is when you present the check to them and they pick it up and stare at it and study it like it’s the friggin Talmud and after much concentratin’ and figgerin’ and cypherin’ they finally manage to put their credit card in the little sleeve. Yay! Everything is [mostly] normal  you think. Then you go to the table to pick up the card to run it and they ask you for a pen.

So they can sign it, you stupid idiot.

They say the first part of that sentence, they think the last part. Trust me, though–that’s what they’re thinking. What YOU are thinking is Fuckstick, YOU aren’t so famous that I want you to autograph your check for me. Let’s try running it first and see what happens.

These people always seem agitated and stressed out. This might be because they actually are agitated and stressed out about something, but it’s more likely due to the Juan Valdez’s donkey-sized Columbian saddlebags full of trucker meth they had consumed prior to dining in your establishment. By the way that would make another  How You Know . . . If your table is so geeked up they make Hunter Thompson look like a sobriety coach then they probably won’t leave you a good tip. In my experience if they are REALLY tweaked out you will be lucky if they don’t short you on the check and merely complain to the manager about everything single thing they can remember or imagine that you did wrong, one category usually significantly outnumbering the other.

So the rule is:

If your table displays ignorance of basic financial transactions (where to pay, who to pay,  how much to pay, if they should pay, etc.), then you will probably say something like ‘You shitbiscuit!’ or ‘Aw, dogfarts! under your breath when you open up the check presenter. You will have reason to.

Dignity and Respect

Me,  The JerBear

P. S. Apologies to all the good people that came to the last comedy show I performed in. I had had a long, hard day. When I asked you if you had ever had a day so long and rough that at the end of it you just wanted to take a nap and a crap and a shower and you just hoped they didn’t all happen at the same time, I was speaking from a place of profound personal truth. You were a good crowd and I got my share of laughs but I didn’t adequately prepare for that gig and I ran out of steam and didn’t give you the JerBear show you deserved. But rest assured knowing that I will close a lot better next time. Probably with a dick joke.


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3 responses to “How You Know You Won’t Get A Good Tip #5: Transaction Jackson

  1. A closely related ‘how you know’ phenomenon is when they argue with you over miniscule pricing details. I just had a bitch flip out that we raised the prices on a special by…10 whole cents. She actually interupted me, mid-specials spiel, to yell abou it. Guess who’s table plummeted to the bottom of my priorities list for her entire stay.

    • Gee, let me see . . . I’m going to walk out onto a very skinny branch of a very narrow limb and guess that it was the table that sabotaged her experience by immediately informing you (early at least-look on the bright side:) that dealing with her was going to be a pain in the taint.

      Also: who raises their prices on ANYTHING by only ten cents these days? She should have just laughed off such a pissably small price hike and said it was coming out of your tip like everybody else probably has.

  2. I get these people every now and again. When I bring them their credit card slip, they usually tell me they already signed. I laugh and very buddy buddy tell them, “You autographed your ticket for me, now you have to sign the one that counts.” We all laugh and rainbows appear and flowers rain down. What’s going on in my head is ways to get these shitheels out of the gene pool.

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