Tip Your People, People

 

 

 

 

 

Ok, I realize times are tough and that tipping your servers might not be high on your priority list, but let me tell you how I feel about it.

To the high school/freshmen college couple that left me $.18 next time…

Keep your fucking change.

It’s more of an insult to me to leave me a dime, nickel, and three fucking pennies than it is to leave me nothing.

I have never been this rude to anyone in my entire life.

All through high school, college, and being unemployed I have always left my server a tip.

We make less than minimum wage people…around $7.25.

You can’t even feed yourself on that wage.

And when I know for a fact you received $1 in your $14 in change and come back to a dime, a nickel, and three pennies…

It makes me want to smash your acne covered baby face into the table.

Tip your severs people…we bust our asses to make sure you are well taken care of.

Now to other customers that aggravate me:

To the customers who have forgotten how to smile…

You must either have had a really fucking shitty day or…

Your head is stuck so far up your ass your lips have gone over your eyelids.

Seriously.

When I am having a terrible night by myself serving on Hell Night and am two milliseconds away from bawling my eyes out…

I still walk my ass out to your table and give you a winning smile.

Because #1: It’s part of my job

And

#2: Why spread my shitty mood onto you.

Now I have some theories as to why these tight assed old women can’t smile.

Theory #1: They are so old and wrinkly their faces have puckered from drinking too much prune juice and further puckering when they have to shit every two minutes after drinking said prune juice.

Theory #2: You’re sour over the fact that your husband now resembles a dried up apricot.

Theory #3: You aren’t getting any.

So here’s my solution.

Pull the dildo out of your ass, unpucker that face, and fucking smile.

It’s the polite thing to do.

To the women who bitched out my overworked and wonderful manager BadAss because I neglected to tell you that “cheese bread” cost an extra $2 after negotiating you a deal on your soda’s..

Go fuck yourself and I hope your kids turn out to lazy wastes of space who jerk off to animal porn in your basement until the age of 50.

You wanted the FM-Special deal which would have required you to buy a 2 liter bottle of soda.

Instead you wanted to order individual glasses of soda, but keep the same price deal.

After asking a manager about this, and having them reluctantly agreeing, you have the balls to walk up and bitch BadAss out for an extra $2.

Adding to the atrocity is that you are one of the unsmiley old women.

So here is my response:

Seriously, Go fuck yourself. I told you right away that it was only my third day of serving and I was still unfamiliar with all of the specials and prices and was a little slow.

When your fucking extra $2 cheese bread was “taking too long” you sent your brat of a daughter up to the counter to ask where it was…no, I did not forget about you. When I had stopped by your table a few minutes earlier to ask if you needed any refills on your practically free soda’s you were a dumb mute. So I intercepted your daughter, gave her a tight smile and snipped that your fucking extra $2 cheesebread would be out in a few minutes.

You are damn lucky it’s a job requirement to be nice to all customers…

No matter how utterly pruned up, unsmiling, and bitchy they may be.

*Ah hem.*

To the 40 something old man with missing teeth who hit on me…

Don’t ever touch me again.

I have this thing about people I don’t know touching me.

It gives me the willies.

I don’t know if you have herpes or not….

I was minding my own business busing a table when you decided to ask me about my wrist tattoo.

No, I do not mind questions as it is in a foreign language on a visible part of my body.

Then you ask if you can see the colors more closely, and me feeling no immediate threat, put down my tray of dirty dishes and walk over to bend my wrist in the light for you to see.

But when you reached out and snagged my wrist and then started rubbing your thumb over the back of my hand…

It took every iota of my being not to snatch my hand back and slap you across the face with it.

I am a server of food.

I am in fact obligated to be civil.

I am however, not obligated to allow myself to be touched by some stranger with missing teeth.

No this would not have made a different if he had all his teeth or was younger…or hotter…

It’s still touching me.

Herpes people…herpes.

So next time you are a rude, non-tipping, non-smiling, grabby customer…

Just remember that people like me are serving you…

And you just never know what we are thinking behind the smile…