It has been months since I have stared into the lonely eyes of that red-feathered robin, whose interactions with young children causes them to erupt in a fury of tears.
It’s been months since I have heard utterances of “Can I have more fries” or “Where’s my side of ranch?” It’s been days since I have woken in the middle of the night from nightmares about angry customers (usually a soccer mom in a track suit with a minivan full of kids) yelling at me for messing up her order.
This upcoming summer, the probability of my return to my humble serving position is high — the tips are simply too good to pass up.
That is, if people do their part.
The core of what I made serving was based on my tips. My earnings varied night to night.
Once in a while, I would return to an empty table to find a shiny $20 tip. Moments like these made me soak in positive energy for the remainder of the evening. I would glow in delight, thinking how giving the human race can be.
However, not every customer is as giving.
I recently came across a Facebook group boycotting a restaurant on the Ave. One member described how they chose not to tip and one of the waitresses responded, “Are you cheap enough that you won’t even tip?”
The infamous restaurant even once sported a small poster of a kitty with the words “Every time you don’t tip, a kitty dies” fastened around a tip jar.
To be honest, even if the service was bad, I side with the waitress. How hard is it to drop a dollar, at the very least? Maybe the server is having an off day, or has several other tables to tend to? Or maybe the kitchen is backed up.
Sometimes people deserve a break, even if your service was mediocre. And if you can’t afford to tip — don’t eat out.
I have a friend who never tips. Never. He just doesn’t “believe” in it. What he doesn’t realize is that he is offending someone every time he chooses to eat out.
You have the ability to make someone’s day with your tip, so do. As the Dalai Lama would say — show some compassion. Tip well.
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