Has your life become empty of meaning? Are you spending less time rearing your children and more time drinking alone?
I’ll tell you why:
I haven’t blogged in a while.
Heartbreaking, I know. But here’s what’s up: Due to my monthly loan payments costing more than my rent, I’ve recently begun a second job
…drum roll please…
It’s possible you’ve never waited tables. It’s possible, in fact, that you’re a Kardashian and have never held any menial, shit-pay job whatsoever. Not to worry, though: that’s where I come in! Pull out your trapper keeper and start taking notes, because I’m about to slap your ass with some serious spanks of knowledge.
If you’re an asshole, here’s how to prove it next time you go out to eat. Some ideas:
Avoid looking into your server’s eyes…like…at all. Okay, wait, actually there’s some modifications to this rule. Is your server a robot? A house plant? An ottoman? If so, ignore this suggestion. However, if your server is a human, go ahead and look at him or her when speaking. Maybe, like, you could talk to your server the way you would talk to, like, another human being. (I know – I’m blowing your fucking mind right now.)
Point at what you want on the menu instead of using your words. If I had a nickel for every time someone said, “We’re going to share one of these and then have this, and I think I’d like to start with that,” I would have like four dollars. Do you know how much shit I could buy for four dollars? When you point to shit on the menu instead of actually using the gift of language and sound, I want to teach you to read. Sound it out.
Avoid using words like, “Thank you.” When your server drops something off at your table – say, a new soda or an entree or an extra spoon so you can share dessert (as if sitting on the same side of the booth wasn’t enough of a HEY WORLD WE’RE IN A RELATIONSHIP, please go ahead and share some shit as well), do me a favor and don’t just continue with your conversation as if your diet Coke appeared by magic. Take a hot second to utter the phrase (wait for it) – “thank you”! I know you can do it. Otherwise, expect just a tiny bit of poop in your tiramisu.
Complain about shit that cannot be fixed. For example: some restaurants feature outside seating. If one more mother fucker complains to me about falling leaves or rogue bees, I’m going to flip your table. Also, I’m going to punch you squarely in the throat.
Start your complaint with, “I never complain, but…” Do you know what you did there? You just lied.
Do obnoxious shit. For example: tonight, my husband and I enjoyed a lovely late dinner on the outside patio area of a restaurant. We started eating at around ten pm, long after the sun had set. Inexplicably, a couple seated near us demanded that the large table umbrella near their chairs be raised to cover them. If you’re wondering whether it was raining or sunny, the answers are no and no. There’s no rhyme or reason here, just obnoxious people doing obnoxious shit.
Tip 15%…or less. Listen, here’s where you’re probably thinking, “Pardon me? 15% is an excellent tip, and besides, I shouldn’t be required to pay my waitress!”
Listen, I get it. In fact, I actually agree with you! We live in a pretty ridiculous society which demands that you, the consumer, not only pay for a service, but also provide the paycheck for the person who executes that service. It’s bullshit. In a perfect world (or, in like, almost every other industrialized country), companies would pay their employees a living wage and tips would be superfluous.
Unfortunately, we do not live in such a world. That’s where you come in.
Here’s the thing: the tip you leave your waiter or waitress doesn’t actually go to your waiter or waitress. Part of it does, yes, but some of it also goes to the busboy, the bartender, the food runner, the host or hostess. Let me break it down for you:
Let’s say I work a waitressing shift in which I only have one table. The total bill for that table is exactly $100. My total sales for this shift, then, is $100. At the end of my shift, I tip a percentage of my total sales to the runners, bussers, bartenders, and hosts. In some restaurants, this is as much as 8% of the total sales. So, back to my $100 table. Even if this table leaves me zero tip at all, I still have to pay out 8% to the other people who helped me serve that table. Therefore, if I receive zero dollars on a hundred dollar table, I’m still tipping out eight dollars out of my own pocket.
Sucks, doesn’t it?
So do everyone a favor and leave a good tip – I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that any time someone leaves less than an 18% tip, a kitten gets punched in the face.
Please, don’t leave a bad tip. The kittens are in your hands.