It was “The Night” to be at the bar. The best deals in town available only one night a week. The place was packed with everyone, even though it was the off season. The customers were happy because this night out was cheap enough to just enjoy the music and the evening and whoever was your flavor of the day.
One couple had arrived early to make sure they could get a table. Friends joined them, had a few, and threw money down to cover their share of the bill. Their seats were quickly snapped up by others who wanted to relax and join the party. Again and again, the couple remained while a rotating door of other customers reshaped their table.
Inevitably, the action slowed down. People began to leave and the crunch of that many bodies in so small a space started to lessen. The original two customers asked for the bill for the table. The friends that had joined them at different phases in the evening had not left them with an unpaid tab, they had each left cash to contribute to the costs and the gratuity.
Then the dreaded, the unthinkable, the worst possible thing happens. The original guest, while trying to sound ingratiating, says, “I’ll just put this on my card.” Oh, the agony. I watch while he scoops up the piles of twenties on the table and counts them into his wallet. He kindly lays down his credit card and proceeds to tip an exact 15% of the discounted bill. Now, we’ve all heard the argument that leaving a gratuity is voluntary (and I’m sure you can guess my opinion on the subject) but making a profit off of your friends and stealing money that should have paid my bills is NOT ACCEPTABLE.
As they go to leave, his dining companion casually says, “He took care of you, right?” Now listen up, people. If you don’t want this question answered, then don’t ever ask it. Should I tell her that he pocketed tips that I had earned through hours of service? Does the service mean any less if the deals of the night are great? Can you say that to a customer? Well, I was young and it had been a long night. Maybe I shouldn’t have told the truth, but I did, as politely as I could. I assumed that her exit was the end of the story.
Imagine my surprise when, the next day, I heard the local DJ ranting on the radio about servers “demanding” tips and how everybody must remember that gratuities are gifts. My story had become twisted, where the server was acting entitled instead of being robbed. The worst part was that I couldn’t respond, I just had to listen, along with the rest of the town, about my alleged bad behavior. Oops. I guess I just admitted how long ago this happened by claiming everyone still listened to the radio. Not that I hold a grudge.
