Continued Woes

I swear people will do anything to save the smallest amount of money and make themselves appear as stupid as possible.

The other day a woman came in with her group and tried to protest her way out of paying the gratuity.

Her reasoning was that since they would be splitting the check three different ways that would mean it would be akin to a group of four, three and two. Each being smaller than eight and thus being exempt from paying a service charge.

Naturally management backed down and allowed this to occur, despite the fact that this goes completely against policy.

The reasoning behind service charge is not how many checks there are, but how many people. In fact separate checks make the matter slightly more complicated and add to the value of a gratuity in the eyes of restaurant staffers.

Apparently the HBIC* of the party threatened to go elsewhere with their group. I say let them, we were on a wait and I challenge them to find another decent restaurant that could accommodate a walk in of nine at seven o’clock on a Saturday night.

The best part was when another, more rational person, paid for the entire bill, gratuity included. HBIC had an absolute fit, it was great.

The best part of my day was my first table, they were your typical demanding types, two women.

I made more trips for them than the aforementioned nine top. It was a literal relay race between the kitchen and their table for such crucial items as six ounces of ranch for their side salads, straws for water, then lemons, then extra sweetener, extra ranch for their fries and so on.

In fact I believe each one of them consumed an entire bottle of ranch throughout their meal, something that is becoming semi-common.

I dropped their bill which was just above twenty five bucks.

When returning for the pick up the presenter had exact change.

“We didn’t bring our cards so there won’t be a tip today.” One of the ladies proclaimed.

I opened the book and a handful of change presented itself to me.

“Well that’s perfectly all right.” I said with a sarcastic sneer.

You mean to tell me that they had exact change for their meal and not a couple bucks to throw in? Or that between both of them and their suitcase sized purses not one credit card was to be found?

I wasn’t expecting much of a tip from the type that they represent, but to openly tell me they won’t be leaving one, well that takes some balls.

Either they are liars and just felt like leaving nothing, or they truthfully couldn’t afford to tip.

Either way neither of them have any business in a restaurant, other than one containing a drive-through, that is.

Spring also saw the return of one of my favorite types, the ghetto lemonade drinkers.

When I informed the kind guest that we offer lemonade, I was told that her way tasted better.

With a roll of the eyes I brought out a lemon and a knife, there was no way I was going to give her one of the lemons I just spent ten minutes cutting.

So myself and a few of the other servers had an experiment. We made our own ghetto lemonade!

Guess what?

It tastes like shit.

People would rather drink a glass of shit than pay a buck fifty for all the refills one can enjoy.

Here’s your moment of Zen:

Ghetto lemonade


*HBIC - Head Bitch In Charge