I gave you and your husband great service, and how couldn’t I? You were the first and ONLY table in the restaurant.
The kitchen, myself, other servers and the FOH manager had your full attention. Heck I even made your salads myself.
You told me our pasta was ‘really, really good’ (because two ‘Really’s’ are better then one)
When I brought the check you asked where the line was to leave gratuity on the CC receipt, I showed your husband as he grumbled something (this should have been my first clue – obviously you were trying to give him a subtle hint to actually leave a tip for once, something I assume you have issues with – as do I).
As you walked out the door I proceeded to grab the payment book to find no receipt in it
(this is not uncommon, people accidentally take the slip even after signing it – I have had to chase down three cars in the past week, ALL have had tips on them).
As I proceeded towards your vehicle (the only one in the parking lot) your husband tries to drive away until I wave my arms.
You roll down the window and ask what is up? I said, “I need a signed CC receipt.” (as I show you the empty payment book) “It’s not there? I must have forgotten to leave it”, she replies. You hand me the signed slip with NO gratuity written on it (I guess that is why you ‘FORGOT’ and were in such a hurry to scurry away in your brand new, Ford F-150 Super Duty Crew Cab – Git R’ Done!).
To each their own. Fuck you, I got mine. Etc. Etc.
Then you have the nerve (or the stupidity) to thank me for my service. (I’m sure the look on my face was priceless – can you say ‘Fuck You’ with your eyes? I’m sure I did.)
You couldn’t have just slipped a couple bucks under your plate when your domineering husband wasn’t looking?
Or doesn’t he allow you to carry money? Or allow you to have your own opinion? Jane, this is 2011, not 1911.
You seemed like a nice young lady – but you and your husband have some issues to work out when it comes to money (would have loved to hear that convo after I walked away from your vehicle). I feel sorry for you, not just for being married to a cheap ass, but a cheap ass who feels he has to supplement certain misgivings with big trucks. It probably cost $5 to just start that monstrosity – ironically an appropriate tip for my service.
S. L. Ehrisman (c) 9/12/11