Elaine Atwell last wrote for The Toast about your dead literary mom.
You are a good person. You are exactly the sort of person you would want to wait on if you were waiting tables. You consider yourself a lovable scamp when joking with your waitress*, a model of appropriate mealtime behavior to your fellow diners, and a tipper in the best tradition of rosy-cheeked liberality. So it may come as a shock to learn that your waitress hates you.
It’s not personal. Your waitress hates everyone who walks through the door, wanting things, from the beginning of the shift to the end. The only time you are briefly redeemed in her eyes is if she picks up the check, finds a good tip, and thinks for a moment, “I guess they weren’t so bad after all.” And by then, you are already gone. This hatred is the sad consequence of the tipping system, in which the ability of a waitress to make money for her physically and emotionally demanding labor is entirely subject to the whims of her customers. Many of these customers—no doubt criminally undervalued in their own jobs—take this as an opportunity to vent their frustrations upon the powerless person refilling their bread baskets.
You would never dream of doing that, of course. You are not the person sending their fish back for being too fishy (a real thing), or requesting a specific number of ice cubes in their water (another real thing). You want this transaction to go as smoothly as possible. But you may still be engaging in behaviors that, while inadvertent, are nonetheless further crushing your waitress’ already broken dreams and collapsed arches.
Here are some things your waitress would really rather you didn’t do:
1. Do Not Ask Your Waitress’ Name
At many establishments, waitresses are obliged to greet every table with a chipper “Hi, my name is Ashley and I’ll be taking care of you tonight!” Do not be fooled by Ashley’s smile. She tells you her name because there is a balding manager in a cheap suit prowling the outskirts of the dining room, making sure she does. As anyone who has read the Earthsea trilogy knows, (and you should really read it, except for the last book, which kind of falls off in quality) having a thing’s true name gives you a mystical power over it. It stops a waitress in her tracks when you yell it out across the dining room, demanding that your water glass take precedence over all her other concerns. I know you are acting with the best intentions. You are trying to bridge a class divide by asking your waitress’ name. But this divide is inherently unbridgeable, since a) this waitress’ ability to pay her bills is subject to your whim, and b) your waitress is not permitted, as in more equitable social interactions, to ask your name in return. This is not a social visit; this is a business transaction. No names.
2. Do Not Plan A Breakup, an Intervention, or Any Emotional Confrontation at a Restaurant
Contrary to popular belief, a public setting does not ensure that an upset person will not cause a scene, it merely affords you the opportunity to inflict that scene upon other people. Furthermore, it is very difficult for your waitress to tell if someone is crying until she is already at your table, at which point it is too late and she might as well just go on reading the specials. If you are worried for your safety, consider holding your confrontation in the soothing environment of a park, or perhaps a library, where they are used to crazy people.
3. Do Not Hand Plate (After Plate After Plate) to Your Waitress
Unless this is part of some prearranged Vaudevillian entertainment the two of you have been rehearsing, in which you give her outrageous numbers of bowls, bread baskets, and ramekins, and she holds them all in comically unexpected ways, please do not assume that your waitress has a tight-rope walker’s sense of balance and/or a third arm waiting to burst forth and carry that last spoon.
4. Do Not Trust Your Own Powers of Calculation to Determine Your Tip
It’s not your fault. The American educational system has failed you both. You, for being unable to find a number between fifteen and twenty percent, despite your robust assurances that you are “a great tipper.” And your waitress, for ensuring that her liberal arts education prepares her for no other vocation than relying on your ability to do mental math. Thankfully there exists on your phone a calculator, which can solve at least one of these problems.
5. Do Not Laughingly Exclaim “We Hated It!” While Pointing to a Plate You Have Licked Clean
You are not the first person to say this to your waitress tonight. You are not the first person to say this to your waitress in the last fifteen seconds. You are no more unique than a Triscuit. You are but one more straw on the back of an exhausted woman making $2.13 an hour. Will you be the one to break that back? Who can say? Perhaps you enjoy the Russian Roulette-like thrill of wondering. Perhaps your palms sweat in greasy anticipation to see whether your waitress laughs along with your clever little joke. In that case, be my guest. Tell her just how much you hated it.
6. Do Not Mischaracterize Your “Preference” as an “Allergy”
People with Celiac Disease have it hard enough without all you goddamn joiners.
7. Do Not. Ever. Blow Your Nose at the Table and Leave it There
This last offense crosses the line from mere annoyance to outright evil. It is the sin no one believes herself guilty of, but the wadded-up tissues tell a different tale. You know those movies in which one person spreads the plague to an entire continent through a single lapse of personal hygiene? When you force another person to make physical contact with your nasal discharge, you are that person. You are patient zero. You are how the world ends: not with a bang or a whimper, but with the wet slap of mucus from someone unwilling to walk the fifteen fucking steps to the bathroom.
*I use the word “waitress” rather than the gender-neutral “server” because the latter sounds like one of the downstairs people on a British period drama and the former sounds like a shark-eyed, cigarette-smoking warrior woman who you do not fuck with.
Tags: advice, elaine atwell, humor, waitressing
no no no no no no no no no ” consider holding your confrontation in…. perhaps a library.”
Other than that, excellent piece.
“Hey sweetie, I thought tonight we could go to the lobby of the police station! No reason, it just seems like a special place.”
“Oh, let’s take a lovely walk to the parking lot of the fire station! I’ve always thought it was an especially picturesque location.”
THE LAST BOOK DOES NOT FALL OFF IN QUALITY IT IS LeGUIN’S FEMINIST CORRECTIVE TO AN OTHERWISE SAUSAGE-HEAVY SERIES
(Ok maaaaaybe it’ doesn’t *quite* fit with the rest, but dragons!)
OKAY I’M GONNA REREAD IT RIGHT NOW WITH THAT IN MIND.
Keep in mind there are more than 3 books! The third one is indeed kind of meh, but then years later she wrote another one which I think is what redrobin was referring to. (You may already know this in which case sorry for over explaining, but the article said “trilogy” so I wasn’t sure.)
It is called “Tehanu” and it is super rad.
the last book does not fall off in quality because they’re all terrible, not just that one
[is it trolling if it’s true?]
Are we talking about Tehanu or The Other Wind, because Tehanu is flawless, but the Other Wind is… the weakest book in the series, I think.
Ok, I was talking about Tehanu, I ignored The Other Wind.
My favorite of her later Earthsea books is the anthology – especially the novella The Finder, which is a lovely, (more) feminist origin story of the school of wizards on Roke.
I think “but dragons!” is an excellent argument.
Also, if you are one of the human scum tempted to lay your unworthy hands on your waitress’s body, remember that she is towering above you, bowls of steaming-hot soup, glasses of indelibly red wine, and many sharp knifes balanced in her hands.
I have a friend who was waited tables in a diner some time ago. One of the customers decided to grab her ass. She punched him so hard he fell off his stool. She punched him so hard the change came out of his pockets.
This is a true story. It is also a not-advisable, but highly suggested approach to dealing with human garbage if you are a woman in a service-oriented position.
“She punched him so hard the change came out of his pockets. ”
Now there is a fair way to run a tipping-based industry. nobody should be dependent on a customer’s fleeting whims and generosity, you should be able to take home as much income as you can punch out of a man’s pockets. it privileges a woman with a strong right arm but so does life and I’m not prepared to say that isn’t how it should be.
A strong right arm and/or the foresight to take your opponent by surprise, perhaps after having casually bumped into him earlier in order to determine which of his pockets makes more jangly noises.
The one time I had to use more than the daggers of my eyes to stop a butt-grabbing patron, I used the the twin threats of spilling scorching hot soup all over him and exposing his ass-grabbery to his wife sitting across the table, oblivious to his lechery. He never did it again, and his already generous tips increased markedly. (None of this made me think him less of a creep and a lech, of course. But at least he kept his hands off me.)
[eta: the twin threats were both tacit; all it took was one small tilt of my tray above him and a not-friendly remark along the lines of “oh, that was close, something distracted me for a second,” with a meaningful look. He got it immediately.]
excuse me you are awesome and you should feel awesome OK bye
Earthsea is not a trilogy! is 5 books!!
it is true about names though
Whoa, I didn’t know there were five! Read the fourth one then somehow totally missed the fifth. Thanks! I will add to my reading list post haste
this is the most vital information i have heard since lori beth denberg was the one telling me.
A+ reference. “Next time you’re sick, take a piece of ham and rub it on yourself. You won’t feel any better, but you will smell like ham!”
It’s a trilogy in the tradition of the Hitchhiker’s Guide Trilogy, which is to say, it is a trilogy in name only.
Six! There are six! A Wizard of Earthsea, The Tombs of Atuan, The Farthest Shore, Tehanu, Tales of EartEarthsea and The Other Wind. I know Tales is short stories but it fits right into the series between the fourth book and the last book so I’m calling it Book Five.
(I hated waiting tables. I made more money at it than I have ever made at any other work in my life, and I was miserable.)
Dear Waitresses,
If I could serve myself I would! But your restaurants frown upon that, so instead I will help work toward equal pay legislation that doesn’t allow restaurants to pay less than minimum wage, regardless of tips. Otherwise, I am sorry you all have to be here, I’m sorry I’m here, and I will never be Patient Zero.
Love but not in a creepy way (I will never ask for your number),
hugpunch
As a public service, I here present my one-woman show, How To Calculate A Tip While Drunk And Not Short Your Friendly Waitstaff and/or Bartender:
1.) look at the total amount of your bill (including tax)
2.) move the decimal point to the left by one (1) digit
3.) drop the last digit
4.) double the resulting number.
5.) round up to nearest dollar. This is your tip amount.
For example, your bill + tax for three beers and an order of fries (i.e., dinner) comes to 25.32. Move the decimal over and drop the .02, to 2.53. Double this: 5.06. Round up: $6. Total bill: $31.32, 23% tip. (You had three beers and probably got a little rambly, your waitperson/bartender deserves it.)
If you are Very Drunk, not merely Drunk, do the rounding up (remember: always round *up*) part first, as it makes the math easier.
I promise that this method will prevent “oh shit did I tip ok last night after three beers” morning-after regret.
My mom taught me this tip trick, and it’s been helpful ever since.
Here is my expanded method, anyone is welcome to use it:
1. Use standard method of finding 20% as outlined above.
2. Did I use a coupon? That’s not fair to her, we must tip as if for full price, do mental math to find “real” total
3. Repeat step one
4. Oh we had waters, waters are just as much work for her as real drinks, I should tip more accordingly, add 6 dollars for invisible drinks
5. Repeat step one
6. Add a few more “guilt dollars” for generally imposing on her time
7. Arrive at total
8. Question if you were cheap the rest of the night
This is what I do except I add a step where if the bartender is hot and touched my arm or winked as he handed me the bill, I add an extra five dollars and/or formally sign over power of attorney.
ah, see, my method assumes that people who have three beers and french fries for dinner (me) aren’t together enough to use a coupon (true for me), but that’s a good point.
Is 20% normal in the US? is this Normal in Canada? (Our interac machines allow pre-selection of tip amounts, normally set to 15%)
Gratuity creep. Fifteen percent used to be standard, but I notice that online conversations now seem to imply that 20% is the least you could do.
I always assume (was always told) 15-20%, but one of my coworkers recently told me she gets annoyed when she gets less than 20%. I usually try to tip at least 20; I actually usually use chickpeas’s trick and round generously.
(Except for delivery. Delivery gets weird; if anyone wants to hear my delivery-tipping manifesto, that I worked out over the six months of driving for [nationwide pizza chain], I will gladly share.)
I want to hear it! I have no idea what to tip for delivery, and it my general neuroses go into overdrive. The standard 20% doesn’t seem quite right because they didn’t serve me, and the amount that food I ordered (except my cases of truly massive amounts of food) has no bearing on the effort it took to bring it to me. On the other hand I feel terrible for poor people who have to drive out in the rain to bring me food because I was too lazy to go get it myself! Please tell me what to do!
Really 15% is normal in the US, but I feel like it’s been creeping up higher over the last decade… probably because of all the people who just leave a handful of pennies or something.
15% minimum, 18% decent, 20% alleviate class-based guilt, 25% gosh we were drunk and obnoxious.
25% (minimum) my toddler left food all over the table and/or floor.
Bless you, this is precisely what I needed.
15 percent is absolute cheapskate minimum, 20 percent is decent human minimum.
If you are in a state where tips are credited again minimum wage, you better be tipping at least 20%. In kinder states, 15%-18% is normal.
^Yes. Also, if you are eating in Los Angeles, or any other big city with an outrageous cost of living, tip 20%. It’s just kind.
As the difference between 15% and 25% is generally a few bucks but a disproportionately positive feeling from the put-upon waitstaff (and kitchen and bus and everybody in the unenviable chain of making me food), I err on the side of, “This costs less than my morning coffee and the good vibes worth far more.” It is with a loose (but pretty unrepentant) knowledge of privilege that I believe generous tipping is part of the tax of eating out and it has nothing to do with quality of service. If I can’t tip I’ll dine in.
Put another way: in my current situation, I can afford to eat out. When I worked in food service, I couldn’t.
20% is also a little bit easier to calculate in your head.
This is how I find the tip at all times, including sober times*. Now I am curious what other people are doing?
*unless paying by card and their machine has the option where you can choose the percentage tip you’d like to leave.
That’ll work for food orders, but drinks I tip $1/drink + another $1-5 on top, for good luck/well wishes/empathy/sympatico tip. Too many years behind a bar or tray not to throw in a little more when I can.
Yeah, if I’m getting drinks one by one and standing around, I tip a dollar or two per drink, in cash, as I order, also paying in cash, because I am ridiculously nervous about leaving my credit card at a bar despite never actually having done so.
That said, I am Old Now and so to my mind, the best bar is the one where I can sit down at the bar and order while sitting and drink my beers, while sitting. Sitting is great.
Sitting is the best.
ALSO if you are being served at a table and ordering drinks that get made at the bar, it’s super nice and thoughtful to pad your tip, because in my experience, servers tip out the bartender at the end of the night based on alcohol sold.
I am completely sober right now but also bad at math and have no interest in anything to do with math, so here is my step by step outline on how I calculate tips while drunk:
1. Look at total amount of bill + tax
2. Input this number into phone calculator
3. Multiply it by .20
4. Add this amount to bill. Round up if number is stupid, like 7.67. Leave some vague, unidentifiable amount of extra money if my waitperson was super nice even when the douchefrats at the table next to us were rude and demanding
5. Pay bill. Leave bar. Forget coat. Go back to bar, laughing awkwardly, “haha, forgot my coat!”
You can also multiply the original number by 1.2 to skip the addition step!
Another pointer: you can also forget your hat!
WHERE’S YOUR FANCY PHONE NOW???
oh right probably back there at the table damnit
umbrella? don’t go back because you don’t even know you did it (whether drinking or not) until the next time it rains. unless it’s raining when you leave. Unless it’s raining when you leave but you have been drinking so you just get into a cab. (I lose umbrellas like it’s my business.)
Or if you, like me, live in a place with nearly 10% sales tax, double the tax and round accordingly. I usually round up but bad service gets rounded down.
My mother was very traumatized a few weeks ago when she got a restaurant bill that didn’t have the tax broken out separately, as she relies on looking at the tax to get the right tip amount.
Yeah, our tax is 8.25% so my dad taught me to double the tax and round down. (I double the tax and round up; he’s old.)
That’s what I was taught growing up, too. Then I moved to a state with a much lower tax and spent a few confused dinners where I knew the # was too low, before figuring out what I was doing wrong.
Ugh, unless you live in Oregon, where there is no tax! I will never forget waiting on a table of women where they were arguing about the tip amount. True story:
“Just double the tax!”
“This is Oregon. There is no tax.”
“Well, then they get no tip! You double the tax to get the tip, and if there is no tax, then you don’t have to tip!”
Fortunately, her friend talked her out of that reasoning and they left me a whole 12%, while the “no tax no tip” lady grumbled.
That is…amazing. Imagine the swath of truly awful tipping that woman’s left in her wake of bizarre rationales.
This is so confusing to my math-deficient mind. I apologize to every server I ever had before the advent of always being able to pay by card and make the machine calculate my tip, and especially to every server I had before the advent of everyone having a phone on their person that also functioned as a calculator.
Yes. This is very good and useful. Much better than doing drunk math, waking up the next morning to realize with SINKING HORROR that you accidentally tipped terribly, lurking around the restaurant for days until you see the same server working, and then apologizing to said server awkwardly and profusely before eating and leaving a good tip for that meal + $20 and fleeing, never to be seen again.
Or so I have heard.
Also, if your food or drink are free, you still have to fucking tip!
I hosted trivia in bars for a couple of years, and I got comped food/drink as part of my pay, and the number of servers who seemed really surprised to get a tip from me made me sad (especially when I was subbing somewhere, because it made me think their regular host did not tip them).
I always do this–so much easier to add two 10 percents instead of trying to figure out 18.
My method SOUNDS more complicated than it is:
Figure out 10%.
Double/triple that (based on service/how crowded the place is/if I noticed an abundance of assholes).
Eyeball, then round up to the nearest $3 or $5. (It’s a thing.)
So, if my bill is 19.37:
1.94×3 = 5.82
19.37+5.82 = 25.19
Rounded up: $27.00.
English grad student math, y’all.
Much of this also applies to your barista. And might I add: respect your waitress/barista’s personal space. Don’t step awkwardly close. Don’t lean. And for the LOVE OF GOD don’t come behind the barista counter. Even a little. No matter how friendly they’re being. Like your waitress, your barista is armed with boiling hot water.
Once when I was barista-ing I was a little behind on getting set up when we opened because my coworker hadn’t showed up, and suddenly this random lady was behind the counter filling up the milks for me. I looked at her aghast and she said “Don’t worry, I live here!”
People who are attached to their local neighborhood coffeeshop can get WEIRD, yo.
Right? I worked at a place with a ton of regulars. And still, whenever one of them started to ease behind the counter, I’d feel like I was Poland being invaded by Germany. Damn blitzkrieg. I was chatting with someone once as I made their coffee, and looked away to pour for a sec. I looked back and they were suddenly two feet closer, leaning behind the counter, still casually chatting.
yep, the folks who try to step behind the counter to get your attention as you are working with VERY HOT LIQUIDS are lookin’ for a scaldin’.
also, it’s amazing how many people get up in arms about an (incredibly polite and gentle), “i’m sorry, only employees are allowed behind the counter.”—like, do you really want to be back here with us? okay, i mean, if you really want the barely-above-minimum-wage and the sore feet…
I used the magical sentence “It’s an insurance thing.” It worked for almost everything — why you can’t come into the kitchen, why you can’t be behind the counter, why you can’t use the employees’ only restroom instead of the public restroom, why I can’t let you in before or after business hours to get that “one thing” you just realized you need —and has the advantage of being pretty much true.
GENIUS
One time we had a parent allow a small child to wander behind the counter. I was on the register and just stared with my mouth open. The mom just giggled and waited for the kid to meander back past the hot machinery and precariously placed boiling liquids.
Once I was at a restaurant and a child was just running around the place, playing with a ball. It nearly ran into waiters a few times, and as the kitchen wasn’t really separated from the eating area, got in the way there a bit as well. The parents didn’t seem to care. Itwas terrifying.
Did you also have regulars start pounding on the door at 7:01 if you hadn’t opened it yet?
I was at a privately owned stand in a hospital, so their version of pounding at the door was lining up silently at the register and watching every move I made until I flipped the sign. On the flip side, when I closed (because I couldn’t kick people out of a building and lock the doors), without fail, at least one person would try to convince me to make them a drink, no matter how far I was in the cleaning process, because they were a special snowflake.
I took…too much pleasure in telling them no.
What??? I mean, I am never really surprised when I hear barista/server horror stories, but it always adds a new layer of “People are weird/terrible.”
But you can still make the “We hated it” joke if you’re a Dad, right? Because literally no force on the planet would be capable of stopping my Dad from making that joke.
Most of the horrible middle-aged men who make this joke are Dads. Dad jokes stop being funny when they are inflicted upon waitstaff.
Ya think maybe it’s a bit much to call my Dad a ‘horrible middle-aged man’ because he doesn’t always realize his jokes aren’t that funny?
I’m sure he’s not actually horrible. It’s just that when you’re waiting tables, everybody’s horrible until proven otherwise. See “your waitress hates you as soon as you walk through the door,” from the essay.
I’m sure your dad is actually a lovely person. It’s just that your waitress has no way to know that, when she has to smile at his jokes.
I refer you to the last line of the first paragraph of the essay.
If I may suggest: it’s not that he’s horrible, but that he is your dad, not the waitress’ dad.
Dad Jokes are rightfully enforced only upon the people whose dad he is or (in the case of youthful sleepover/college visits to friend’s house/in-law privileges) the people to whom he acts as dad in loco parentis. When a dad tells a Dad Joke to a server, who may then feel compelled to laugh, he is exceeding his authority.
Ya, it’s just I’m joking around about how my dad is silly and would never ever stop doing this, jumping on me to say NO IT’S BAD seems a little extreme.
Yeah, Dads are gonna Dad. In my personal experience in the food service industry, dumb Dad jokes are not even worth getting remotely het up about (Plus their kids are usually at the table, rolling their eyes so you don’t have to). I used to get evangelical religious pamphlets left behind on the table, now those were fun.
I got the ones that were designed to look like $5 bills in the tip jar from time to time. That never filled me with Christian love and charity, somehow.
Oh my god, I’ve never seen those, which is probably good because I would have spontaneously combusted from rage.
They’re horrible. They’re folded in the middle, so you can’t see the picture of Jesus, and then you open them up, and realize that what you thought was an extra .20/hr in tips was, in fact, somebody trying to save your soul.
You know how you know there’s no great force of justice guiding our lives? Because on delivering these the earth does not crack open beneath the feet of the fake-tip scammers sending them screaming directly to Hell.
This is a beautifully put.
It is *such* a Dad joke, and I am mystified by what social process it becomes part and parcel of being a “dad”. Like, do they get pulled out of the delivery room to be told that this is one of the things they must say?
I just think that the crux of all dad jokes is that you don’t care at all if anyone else finds the joke funny, the joke is only for you, and post-children you don’t care what anybody else thinks because you are too tired/happy/covered in human waste. This escalates to the point where your children/family love you enough that they find your jokes endearing but only because it makes *you* laugh, not because the jokes are funny.
Subject of its own panel at DadCon 2008
Don’t spend your whole meal being all chummy and flirty with your waitress only to leave her a tip of less than 12%, and dear god don’t have the chutzpah to wink at her like you’re doing her a favor, you stingy worthless turd of a man.
(not like I’m speaking from experience or anything…)
And don’t leave your phone number on the table if you’re tipping less than 20%. Or at all, preferably.
And then on the other hand, there’s this. I definitely had some of these customers when I was slinging coffee.
this makes me so uncomfortable and I may have just realized a few things about myself
#7 also applies to SECRET GUM.
Also, don’t shove your used napkins into a cup, mistakenly thinking you are “helping to clean up.” Someone just has to fish those out so the glass can be cleaned.
OH GOD I was on a date with a guy and he took the gum out of his mouth and put it on a plate and it sat there like a small white turd for the entire meal. I was appalled, and am still kicking myself for not asking him to take care of it himself. And it was a nice restaurant so cloth napkins–no way to wad it up in paper. It was EXCRUCIATING why did I not say something?
oh my god just swallow the gum what is wrong with people
if someone is kind enough to provide you with a service, by jove, you better goddamn tip them. your waitress, your barber, the person who pulls your espresso shot or scoops your ice cream cone, the worker at the bakery who rings up your baguette. if there’s a tip jar, you put the money in it. if there’s a space on your receipt, you damn well add one. if there’s nowhere to do it and you’re not sure, you goddamn ask, “do you accept tips?” and if it’s awkward, it’s the kind of awkward that leaves your server thinking, “aw they wanted to give me extra $$$” rather than “oh my god what an asshole.”
The bagel place I go to doesn’t accept tips, and it makes me sad. Because they’re incredibly efficient, and I always get wonderful food, and I really want to tip them.
I find it really frustrating, though, that this only applies to food-related service. I have worked plenty of poorly-paid retail jobs, and it always irritated me when I’d go grab a drip coffee on my break and feel like I had to tip the barista who was making at least as much an hour as I was. I don’t mind tipping for espresso drinks, but why should I have to tip someone for pouring coffee into a cup and handing it to me when I don’t get tipped for finding someone ten different things from ten different parts of the store? This rant isn’t directed at baristas, just at our weird and contradictory tipping culture.
Because people in traditionally tipped professions (like servers and baristas) are paid a lower minimum wage in most states?
In my experience across a few coffee shops (both chain and indie) and two different states, baristas are paid the regular minimum wage, not the tip-based wage that servers typically get. Maybe this is different in some states or something and I’ve been messing up this whole time, but as a former barista, I definitely do not tip baristas the same way as waitstaff in restaurants.
Once when I was a waittress, someone sent back their pizza because it had too much cheese on it. They were lactose intolerant, apparently, and did not expect a cheese pizza to have more than a dusting of cheese.
waiter, my steak appears to have some meat in it!
people are idiots.
Ugh, the ONLY time I have ever done something like this was when I was very pregnant and ordered a beef salad at a restaurant and it came out basically raw without having been described that way on the menu. I also apologized many, many times for being That Customer. I hate That Customer.
This is not a social visit; this is a business transaction. No names. A-fucking-men.
Note: this is the most difficult part of getting a haircut. Like, I’m exchanging money for goods or services, and I understand that this is a different atmosphere than a restaurant, and it could be awkward to just not talk while I’m getting my hair cut. But oh god oh god why are we talking about things that are not my hair I just want my hair cut aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
Seriously, I can navigate most everyday social interactions without being a seething ball of anxiety, but the hair salon just freaks me right the fuck out.
Right there with you. Haircutting etiquette confuses the hell out of me. I am happy to tip the stylist, unless she (I have rarely had my hair cut by a man) is the owner, but HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT? They never introduce themselves with “Hi, I’m NAME and I run this place!”
For a brief while, I had a very well-paying job and regularly got the most expensive haircut in Tinyville, Maine ($45!) with the same woman every time, and I did math in order to give her a proper tip. I could just barely handle making conversation about her two little girls and her husband the lobsterman, and my long-distance partner and where I was applying for permanent jobs, and such like, even though I’d really rather just relax and let it happen quietly. But when the holidays came, I realized (a) oh crap, I need a haircut before January interviews, and (b) aren’t you supposed to tip people who regularly do this stuff for you extra EXTRA at the holidays? And how much? And how do you do it?
…I ultimately handed her an envelope with some cash money inside and fled precipitously, and waited a while for the embarrassment to die down before getting another haircut.
Oh, I never have a problem with the tipping part, just the conversation during the actual haircut part. I probably just need to get my hair cut more often, in order to get used to the complicated social dynamics of the more personalized parts of the service industry.
One of the biggest joys of my life was when a friend decided to become a hair stylist. Now I a) get to feel like I’m supporting her life goals; b) don’t have to spend ages trying to explain how I want my hair to fit into my lifestyle, because she already knows that I’m a belly dancer and she is too; c) get to hang out with her once a month while she cuts my hair. Happy happy happy.
Hee, I was just complaining about this on the introvert spoof, but not like you’re thinkin’! I’m sorry you find conversation during haircuts uncomfortable, but hair stylists depend on making connections and building trust in order to both build repeat business and better satisfy their clients. They’re supposed to do quite a bit of mind reading on the job in general, and conversation, even and sometimes especially non hair related, tends to help them get a feel for the clients.
The difference between the waitress secretly hating it when you ask her name and try to be chummy and you (not just you, random Internet person: I see this sentiment a lot) dying a thousand deaths if your stylist asks you if you have any big plans for the weekend is that both your waitress and your stylist are at work, attempting to do a job. Being respectful to your waitress means not going wild with her boundaries, and being respectful to your stylist means not being shitty in the face of small talk.
For sure, and I do my best to keep up the small talk, but I’m not going to lie, I am disliking every minute of it. For a while I had a hairdresser I kept going to largely because she had no problem cutting my hair in silence. It was enough that I overlooked that she was also kind of rude sometimes (at one point looking at me and asking “is your hair really greasy or is it raining outside?”. It was not raining outside.)
Well, you can always bring a book or your phone or something, and after the actual consult where you say what you want done with your hair, you can say, “Do you mind if I get caught up on this?”
I’m a pretty quiet person myself, and sympathize with not really wanting to talk to someone you don’t know, and definitely had a few clients who clearly didn’t have much to say that I could also not talk to, but largely,mid you don’t talk to your clients, they won’t make a point of coming back to you even if they liked your work.
RELATED: I have always been super uncomfortable with hair dressers. Growing up, my mom cut my hair with kitchen scissors, I’m not used to navigating this relationship. I went to too many places where they gave me sitcom hair (I have long hair, I’m attached to it, doesn’t mean I want to look like Jennifer Aniston. Yes, Friends was a thing the last time I tried a random place.) and talking to me about straight person small talk things. Finally, someone I knew from a message board started a shop and I love going to her because our conversations are awesome because she already knows that I’m queerpolykinky and is cool with it, so no awkward. SO RELIEVING.
My haircut and color takes four hours.
FOUR. HOURS.
Oh god this is my nightmare.
I see people (internet people) complain about this specific thing all the time (well, not all the time — but it’s definitely something I have seen discussed on numerous occasions), and I just wonder…do most people get their hair tended to by a total stranger every time? How do you trust a total stranger to do your hair, though??? I went to my last hair person for 12 years — I loved seeing her, we had hugely inappropriate conversations every time I went in (I go about 3 times per year for cut/color), I’ve been to a couple of parties at her house, and I was very unhappy when she moved away last winter. I started going to someone she recommended to me this past spring, and now I fully expect to continue going to this person until either she moves away or I move away or she, like, doubles her prices or something. Is a friendly regular relationship with your hair-person super unusual?
In a very long (months!) and gruelling series of emails with my gas and electricity provider, trying to get them to set up my account properly, I ended up asking them to address me as Ms [Surname], rather than using my first name, because it felt too over-friendly. WE ARE NOT FRIENDS, I JUST WANT YOU TO BE PROFESSIONAL AND STOP MAKING ERRORS.
Aw man, I used to love breakups at my tables when I waitressed but that’s because I’m a GHOUL who loves observing drama I’m not involved in.
Otherwise, agree with all points.
Also my dad totally makes the “We hated it!” joke, I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I can do to stop him. He will also occasionally entreat a waitstaff person to stick a fork in him, cause he is DONE.
My recompense for working all the holidays when I was waiting tables was my Valentine’s break-up wagers. All the drama of a telenovela over five courses, embarrassment tips, and the ill-gotten gains for my prescient ability to call which “happy couple” would end in a break-up.
I’m not a total monster; all of that $$ would be spent with my fellow workers afterwork on drinks/extra-curriculars.
Oh this is related and I’ve been looking for an opportunity to abuse it, did anyone else see this pile of hot garbage where a guy decides to stop tipping everyone because he thinks the tipping system is flawed? http://www.grubstreet.com/2014/11/adam-platt-tipp…
Highlights include not tipping a cab driver because he left him alone instead of chatting nonstop like “the loquacious cabbies of Singapore”.
I don’t understand why it’s so hard for these anti-tipping people to comprehend that most, if not all, people in the service industry earn below minimum wage, SO TIP THEM YOU CHEAP ASSHOLE
Also, oh my god, petitioning for this to become a thing in North America immediately:
It is illegal to not flush a public toilet in Singapore (the punishment is a steep fine)
Right?? Many people agree that our tipping system is inefficient and not really the best for the workers, but those who are not sociopaths do not believe that the solution is to just not give those workers any money at all.
I also enjoyed him bitching about how his local coffeeshop (the one I used to work at, incidentally) used to only have one tip jar by the register, but now they have another one where you pick up your coffee by the espresso machine, and that is evidence that more and more tips are expected. Not that, yknow, maybe it feels more convenient for some people to tip while they wait by the machine instead of clogging up the line at the register.
I just noticed this line and it’s cemented the fact that he is the absolute fucking worst:
Most scandalous of all, I would not automatically leave the ritual 20 percent gratuity in restaurants, even though I’m usually on an expense account and often leave more than that.
I would love it if servers got paid a decent wage and I could just use the “round up” tipping method of rounding the bill to the nearest whole dollar (or round number if the service was good), but I live in the US and unless/until we have a major change in the way we compensate service employees, I will continue to tip, and to tip generously when I am dealing with places that I am a regular at.
I’d pay extra for a cab driver to leave me alone.
Oh my god my dad doesn’t do any of these terrible things but he asks waitresses’ names – and waiter’s names, and bartenders’ names, and the names of every single person who works at the resort when he goes on vacation, and where they are from, and he is from Italy, and Let’s Rap About Stuff! It’s kind of hilariously endearing since he does it because he genuinely likes meeting new people and not because he wants to passive aggressively call over this serviceperson from the other side of the dining room.
My dad is the exact same. He wants to be friends with everybody. He LOVES calling people by their names; if he has an opportunity to do so, he will and often (“Hi, John. John, I am looking for a giant television. Do you have any giant televisions? You do! Thanks, John. Yes, I’d love to see it, John” etc). He sees this as basic respect and manners and no amount of explaining the awkward power dynamics that can sometimes accompany that practice will convince him otherwise. At this point, I just encourage him to introduce himself as well, to try and level the playing field a little.
My dad is like a Blue Collar Dude (at heart if not in actual fact, as he works for a car company and undoubtedly makes far more money than this serviceperson) so I think he sees them as his equals? He ALWAYS introduces himself so I guess that’s good? The last time I went on vacation with my parents I discovered my dad having a drink at the bar with the off-duty waiter at the a la carte restaurant, so I was like, “okay good, he hasn’t scared this poor guy away”
I never really minded if people asked my name because they wanted to chat. Some people wanted to know my name so they could bark it loudly when I was across the room.
One of the worst experiences I ever had as a server – someone left a used hypodermic needle on my table. When I alerted management and asked them what the procedure was for this weird and potentially dangerous incident, my manager simply replied, “Don’t touch the pointy end.” THANKS FOR THE ADVICE.
Also, I will never, ever stop cringing at my father making ALL of the dad jokes to our server. Also will never ever stop asking him kindly to refrain, please please please just this once, to little or no effect.
D:
My dad does ask servers their names. BUT. He does it for the sole reason of complimenting management on really great servers. For real. After my wedding, my parents and in-laws went to dinner together, and they had an outstanding Italian meal with terrific service, and my dad deliberately sought out the manager to effusively praise the server, by name, for quite a while. (He also tips generously, but this also.) And he does this, with like, all good servers. I was mortified because we’d go to breakfast on a Saturday and my dad would hold up the procession by hunting down the manager to tell them how awesome the service was and how great Ellen did and what have you.
I don’t know how to feel about this now.
Since he’s making them briefly uncomfortable in exchange for making sure they get recognition for their work, I feel like it’s probably ok.
Man, I love telling managers when the servers have been great. At first they are braced for a diatribe about something stupid and then they realize that you are in fact telling them how great your experience has been and their faces are very fun to watch. Sometimes though they are still annoyed because they had more important managerial things to do.
Do not pay for your $1.50 coffee with a $100 bill when your server has just this minute opened up the concession stand with a $100 float. Just don’t.
Or, really, at any time. Because 1) there’s a good chance a $100 bill will ruin change-giving for the entire day, and 2) servers are trained to regard $100 bills as probable forgeries. Just don’t do it, folks.
Setting: Saturday afternoon. No one available to go into the safe to make change for Sunday if there even is enough small bills in there since we cleaned it out Friday evening to have enough for Saturday
Course of the day: everyone pays with a $20 for their $5-15 admissions
State of cash drawer at 4pm: $160 in 20s, $25 in singles, a sad lone $5 bill
Dude walks in, sees $8 general admission. “Hey, can you take this $100 bill?”
Is visibly annoyed that I can’t make change because then I wouldn’t have enough small bills for the next day
The number of times this has happened to me. >.< We need a bigger float for the weekends, but I have a swiss-cheese brain and keep getting distracted when I’m about to bring up the argument for it. It was really fun once when I closed with only $5 in singles, the rest in twenties, and had to spend time going to different grocery stores to collect enough small money for the next morning, because no one would swap enough cash in a single go and the staff members with access to the safe were both on vacation that weekend.
Reading this list, I thought I was going to ace it until I got to the “we hated it” bit (*cringe* ). In my defense, though, it’s usually the waitstaff who start it. Until recently, I was always the awkward type who would smile. probably blush a little, and say simply, “it was lovely, thank-you.” Then at some point in the last couple of years — I guess about the time I became middle-aged — servers started saying things like “oh, clearly your meal was awful,” or “well, well, you managed to choke it down!” often with a wink or a knowing nod. At first it made me feel vaguely shamed, like I was being chided for overeating/eating too quickly/not leaving a polite morsel on the plate, but eventually I concluded that this was just the new normal. The only appropriate response seems to be to play along with a chuckle and, “yeah, it was terrible,” or some such (now I wonder: is that wrong? Am I supposed to contradict them and assure them that it was delicious, as though their sarcasm is lost on me?). If asked, “How was everything?” I tend to still respond with an old-fashioned “lovely, thank-you,” but I’ve started doing the sarcastic/jokey thing preemptively if the server has been particularly jovial throughout the meal. It’s not that I think it’s cute or clever; it just seems to have become the standard script for post-dinner banter. I assume most people are playing the same game.
Aside #1: Is this happening all over, or is it a Canadian/Toronto thing?
Aside #2: This started around the time I hit middle-age. Are servers just assuming that I’m going to make this joke and thus preempting me? It’s not like I’m a dad — I’m not even a man.
Aside #3: Oddly enough, as I think about it now, I realize that my parents have always exchanged the same banter any time one of them cooks the other’s favourite meal. Perhaps this sort of interaction between servers and patrons is supposed to reference familial intimacy?
Aside #4: However it started, I’d be quite happy if we all agreed to stop it.
I am in Toronto and have not noticed any such thing.
Maybe you’re younger than me; as I say, it didn’t start happening to me until I reached middle age. Or maybe you eat at fancier places than I do. Also, I’m usually dining with my partner, who is a middle-aged man. Perhaps the servers are doing it to preempt him.
what’s middle age, 40? I’m almost there, but I’m also usually eating with my partner and she’s a black woman and I’m a fat white woman, so we probably look like humourless killjoy feminists from the outset, and no one would dare joke with us.
LOL. I’m 43, and it started sometime after I turned 40. I’m also a fat white woman, and I smile too much/laugh too easily in order to compensate for all my various insecurities, so they probably think I’m jolly. Plus, my partner has long hair and a beard, making him look like a slightly overage hipster, so maybe they think he’s into being into irony.
I think rule #5 does not apply if your server starts it. You’re just following suit.
This happens to me all the time, and I’m young (24) and in North Carolina.
I take after my dad in that I clean my plate completely. No polite morsels for me. My parents would joke that they don’t need a dishwasher with me around, that’s how clean my plate is when I’m done with it. And yeah, I get those comments pretty often. “Wow, you hated that meal, didn’t you?” “I’m sorry you didn’t like your food!” Obviously sarcastic. And yeah, I feel the same way, like I’m being mocked for being overzealous. I try not to take it personally.
Yeah, if your server starts it, fair game. But please, for the love of Pete, refrain from making the stupid joke if your server does not start it. I’ve gotten pretty good at the jovial small talk thing, but I still can’t handle stuff like that. I’ve gotten okay at fake-laughing, but it still feels gross. Because even though the person obviously cleaned their plate, and probably liked it, if there is a problem it is my job to fix it. I’m already not always the best at picking up on sarcasm/kidding around in normal social situations, or at least find it hard to respond in kind. Your “funny” “jokes” are so not appreciated when I’m at work and am trying to make nice so you give me an okay tip. (not you, ElisaSays, the general you.)
This is an exact description of my experience, my thought process, and my reactions.
Yup. In my experience, it’s usually the server who says to me, “You must have hated it!” or “How was it? Terrible, right?” It happens often enough that I’d begun wondering if it’s part of the World Polices Women’s Eating thing or something – I look younger than I am, and I’m small(ish), and surely I’m Not Supposed To Eat The Whole Thing? (I also sometimes get servers telling me “Wow, you ate all of it! Good for you/I’m proud of you/I didn’t think you would!” which is really weird.)
I have a stock response along the lines of “Yeah, so terrible I had to eat it all quick so I could stop looking at it” or something like that. But I swear I’m not the initiator of the exchange!
I was nodding along hard with the name thing above. I have to bite down on my social training–when they say “Hi, I’m X and I’ll be your server today,” I automatically start to reply, “Hi, X, I’m Niki!” When friends actually address the server by name, especially to call them over to the table, I cringe hard. This is not an equitable power dynamic situation!
If you have a calculator on your phone, take the total amount of the bill and multiply by 1.20 for a 20% tip; then you won’t have to add the initial amount back in. So instead of multiplying 24.50 by .2 and then adding 24.50 again, multiply 24.50 by 1.2 … well, that’s what computer science people do cuz we hate extraneous number punching and we like being the smug there’s-an-easier-way, know-it-alls. And stuff like that. And if you’re a tech person, you’re naturally annoying, so consider leaving a 30% tip,because you have all the money ( I say this with love, as a tech person).
Maybe we can start tipping (well) when we place our orders. Sometimes I go to diners or cafes (table service places) to write, and it’s slow so I know I’m not taking up a table others could use, but the shift change happens while I’m there. I should come up with a script along the lines of “I am one person at this 4-top and I’m going to be here for the next 90 minutes typing on my computer; here’s some cash and thanks for all the coffee refills”
I have been on both the receiving and the giving ends of exactly that. When I was a server, those people got consistent coffee refills, even after a long time. As a giver, now *I* get consistent coffee refills. 😉
The rule I’d always heard is, if one is planning on camping at a table that is now not available to the server, to add the amount of your tip to the total every 45min to an hour that you and your party are there. That’s the income the server makes on that table during that interval.
And an Irish bartender I worked with would tell the customers whining that they didn’t have enough money for a tip, “Then you don’t have enough money to sit on this stool and drink. Go get a bottle and go home.”
God, I loved her.
Aw my boyfriend does the “we hated it” thing sometimes but at least doesn’t seem to treat it like he’s the first one to come up with that. I experienced a similar annoyance when I was a hostess and we had to hand out those buzzer things, and they would buzz right at first when you took them off the base, so I’d hand one to someone at the height of the dinner rush and they would inevitably say “OH IS MY TABLE READY ALREADY? HEH HEH.” Literally every time.
The thing where we pay wait staff less than minimum wage because they get tips and then expect everyone to tip decently because they know wait staff make less than minimum wage is going to make the aliens who eventually encounter us shake their heads (if they have heads) at our lack of logic and civilization-building skills.
Yes. I firmly believe that wait staff should be paid AT LEAST minimum wage (more, actually, because I’ve done that work, and it is HARD), before tips. Then tipping could be about gratitude for good service, rather than something you’re obligated to do so your server can pay the rent.
I don’t understand how paying less than minimum wage is legal. That’s what the minimum wage is! The clue is in the name!
Yeah, it’s weird. In Ontario, there are several minimum wages. The students’ minimum wage is lower than the general one, and the liquor-servers’ minimum wage is lower still. http://www.labour.gov.on.ca/english/es/pubs/guide…
So, sure: Your server is technically getting minimum wage. Just not the same minimum wage as everyone else.
I’m also in Ontario. We have weird shit. Like, not “you don’t have money, oh just die then” or “you had a miscarriage, let’s put you in prison” shit, so that’s good, but minimum wage and liquor laws are weird. And can we get on with that sex ed reform, already?
In the U.S. at least, your employer is legally supposed to make up the difference between tipped and non-tipped minimum wage if your tips don’t bring you there in a given pay period. Is this actually enforced? No.
I could never decide what I hated more – people asking for and using my name, or shouting “Miss — MISS!” as I walked by.
Just as long as they don’t snap their fingers.
I had a guy whistle at me. He apologised when he saw the look on my face.
Is it Unnecessary Man Opinion day on the Toast Facebook page or what? First Spencer on the allyship post, now Brad on this one. Brad thought waiting tables was really fun, and doesn’t understand why the ~negative~ servers “like this” don’t just quit if they hate their jobs so much!
It is always Unnecessary Man Opinion Day, based on the enthusiasm with which some men instruct me on my own experiences.
Ah, this reminds me of my four years in the trenches at a restaurant That-Shall-Not-Be-Named. *Shudders*
Honestly, never have I thought less of humanity as a whole than when I was working in the service industry. Your waitress does indeed think you are horrible unless proven otherwise.
When I finally quit, I seriously contemplated writing a satirical picture book for servers called “Go the F*ck Away,” as inspired by a particularly horrendous Christmas Eve shift and the fabulous “Go the F*ck to Sleep” book. It was going to be illustrated, written in rhyme, and gleefully eviscerating of all the different kinds of assholes who come to restaurants.
I probably should still write it, just for shits, giggles, and personal therapy . . .
Restaurant break up fights are the worst. Because everyone (both spectators and participants) are kind of trapped there for the duration of the meal.
I once went out to eat with a friend and her boyfriend while they on the rocks (not that I realized how rocky their relationship was when we went out). I went to the bathroom after ordering and by the time I was done, they were in the middle of a pretty intense looking fight. The waitress found me kind of hovering by the bathroom, trying to decide if I should just let them go until our food came or rejoin them mid-fight. IIRC, the waitress gave my friend a free Diet Coke, because DC is a known cure for heartbreak and crying in public.
America’s tipping system (like so much else) is totally BONKERS and incredibly exploitative. $2 p/h is just appalling.
I’m confused about #7. Like, I’m a notoriously runny-nosed person, so if I am eating at a restaurant where the food is even a little bit spicy or it’s even a bit cold outside, I’m going to have to blow my nose a lot, and if the restaurant has paper napkins I’m probably going to blow my nose in the napkin. Am I really expected to take the napkin with me? Is a napkin with my spicy-food (i.e. not diseased) snot in it really that much grosser than a napkin covered in wing sauce or similar?? Not trying to be snarky or entitled, just a bit daunted by the idea of walking out of a restaurant with several balled-up napkins in my hand/purse to find a trash can because it’s not okay to leave them at the table.
Daunted? Bring a larger purse and deal.
first of all: is snot grosser than wing sauce? let’s work this out. do you ask for an extra side of snot? do you lick your fingers when they are covered with snot? DO YOU GO TO THE STORE AND PAY FIFTY CENTS MORE FOR NEWMAN’S OWN SNOT BECAUSE YOU KNOW THE PROFITS GO TO CHARITY?
secondly: bathrooms. you can throw that sucker in the trashcan, stick it in the little tampon mailbox, or drop it in the toilet and pretend it’s a doomed paratrooper. you have options. your waitress, on the the other hand, has no options. she has to clean that table off because it’s her fucking job, and then she has to drop food off on the next table with her same two hands.
if that sounds gross, it’s because it is.
I guess it honestly just doesn’t sound that gross to me. I haven’t waited tables but I’ve worked retail and cleaned bathrooms, and when something gross happens I bitch about it, use some hand sanitizer, and move on. Anyway I’ll be more conscientious about my table hygiene in the future, it just legitimately never occurred to me that this was that big a deal. Sorry to have offended you.
Your tolerance to snot (like mine!!) is way higher than people who are only snotty when they’re sick. I’m snotty ALL the time, but I do know that other people get grossed out by it so I have (recently) started to toss my own snots on the way out, and keep them on my lap in the meantime.
“You are no more unique than a Triscuit.” This is a valuable life lesson more “random” people should absorb.
this happens to me (not canadian, in new england, also not a dad) and i like it because i feel like the server and i have transcended “merely polite” into the realm of “sarcastic ribbing” which is my preferred method of communication. like if a server walks up to me and says “ugh, hated it, right?” i *say* “it was awful. just terrible. send it back, please.” and *think* “oh good, you’re my people.” saying this with the caveat that it happens to me rarely, and if it was more frequent i’d probably have the exact same thought process you do!
6. Can I get a server ruling on my cilantro issue? I have the lack of a tastebud thing where it tastes like horrible horrible soap. I never call this an allergy, but sometimes trying to explain that I can’t have fresh cilantro takes a billionty years and the cilantro plague seems to be spreading to all cusines now. I got a french spring mix with herbs at the grocery store and cilantro was one of the herbs!
But its like, oh can you let me know if it has cilantro…no its ok if it does, I won’t die but fresh cilantro is horrible to me, its a tastebud thing, its genetic…just…does it have cilantro….and then it’s always in it. ITS ALWAYS IN SOMETHING NORMAL, where it said nothing about it on the menu. to make it more confusing a cooked ground up cilantro is usually ok. Its the fresh parts that are bad. I want a tastbud alert bracelet for my condition.
omg – soap! yes! I’ve been telling my partner this for years and he has no idea what I’m talking about! cilantro aka coriander leaves taste like hand soap, blech. my whole childhood in western PA in the 80s this was not a problem, then in the mid 90s those soapy leaves started popping up in everything. What non-soap element are we missing that makes other people like that?
fun substitution fact: fresh parsley salsa is the bomb.
Would like to go on record and say that I DO NOT UNDERSTAND TIPPING.
I spent four months in the States once, and pretty much my entire time in any food/service establishment was spent fretting about whether or not I should tip/how much should I tip/what will happen to me if I don’t tip.
I suppose tipping here in Australia is a thing, but the one and only time I worked in food service, I was getting a higher wage than any other menial job at the time would have given me. Someone tried to tip me once, but as I was working in a team of three (behind a counter, order/dish out/wrap up yes it was a fish and chip shop) and he tried to give us $5, we just looked bemusedly at each other and took a drink each from the fridge WHICH WE OFTEN DID ANYWAY.
The reason tipping is a thing in the US and not Australia is that servers are paid a living wage in Australia (starts at $17.35/hr). In the US, they can make as little as $2.13/hr in states that count tips towards the minimum wage.
As your cocktail server, I am delighted to remind you, do not ever take your drink off the tray of drinks balanced on my spread fingers. Unless you don’t mind wearing the rest of the drinks on the tray. It is in the realm of possibility that a server or me could just let the tray fall on you, after twice reminding you not to touch the drinks. I mean, anything is possible.
So basically…don’t be my dad. He does all of these and more. He also makes terrible “jokes” at the waitresses as long as they’re under thirty, and when they smile dutifully he concludes that he’s irresistible and really funny. (Because of course they’ll find a leering, unhygienic 70-year-old irresistible.) It’s painful. I’ve tried to explain to him why it’s problematic, but he gets butthurt and then does it again with renewed zeal next time.
Same with mine. He also lectures them on their insincere chitchat no matter how many times we explain to him that they don’t want to do it, their manager is making them, and very likely the manager’s manager is the root cause, so if he wants people to stop asking how his day was he should write to head office not snap at some poor teenager. I have hung back after he leaves to apologise some times.
I feel like Canada probably has more civilized laws re: minimum wage and health care, so 15% might be okay there? I’m open to correction, just going by my vague feeling that everywhere else in the world sucks less than the US.
That said, if I encounter one more high-volume subway breakup, I’m going to take it as license to go up and start giving advice.
“Now, you see, Brad, I think what Janet is saying is that you’re way too clingy. And also consider plucking that unibrow.”
Yeah, if your server starts it, fair game. But please, for the love of Pete, refrain from making the stupid joke if your server does not start it. I've gotten pretty good at the jovial small talk thing, but I still can't handle stuff like that. I've gotten okay at fake-laughing, but it still feels gross. Because even though the person obviously cleaned their plate, and probably liked it, if there is a problem it is my job to fix it. I'm already not always the best at picking up on sarcasm/kidding around in normal social situations, or at least find it hard to respond in kind. Your "funny" "jokes" are so not appreciated when I'm at work and am trying to make nice so you give me an okay tip. (not you, ElisaSays, the general you.)
I never waited tables but I did run the register, which was located at the waitress station (it was all waitresses in that restaurant) and boy howdy did I hear some stories and see some stuff from that vantage point. People are terrible.
My truly lovely boyfriend always has a standard set of jokes he likes to deploy and I…always feel like such a crank for finding that awful and deplorable and for assuming that the wait staff DOES NOT HAVE TIME FOR THAT SHIT, but maybe I have just been vindicated?
SO MUCH YES.
Also, don’t leave small children lying around. They are a trip hazard.
SO MUCH YES.
Also, don't leave small children lying around. They are a trip hazard.
Police officers can be terrible at doing their jobs. That does not make it not their job. It really does not make it a job for the general public.
I have friends who work in the restaurant industry, either as servers or cooks, and they have ALL told me: if you have food preferences or sensitivities that aren’t technically allergies, say they’re allergies anyway. It makes it easier on EVERYONE, because the kitchen staff will *actually pay attention to your request* and you won’t have to send your food back 70 times like a picky asshole.
I mean, when I worked as a cook I paid attention to preferences whether or not they were characterized as allergies, but during a rush time it was much easier to make mistakes with preferences than if it said ALLERGY in big letters on the slip. So.
I have friends who work in the restaurant industry, either as servers or cooks, and they have ALL told me: if you have food preferences or sensitivities that aren't technically allergies, say they're allergies anyway. It makes it easier on EVERYONE, because the kitchen staff will *actually pay attention to your request* and you won't have to send your food back 70 times like a picky asshole.
I mean, when I worked as a cook I paid attention to preferences whether or not they were characterized as allergies, but during a rush time it was much easier to make mistakes with preferences than if it said ALLERGY in big letters on the slip. So.