The Joy of Tipping

Posted under Money, Ranting, Serverdom by Sarah

This rant has been a long time coming, so my apologies to those who I’ve mentioned it to who have come here to find me procrastinating. As usual.

Diners of the world, hear ye, hear ye! Servers of the world, unite!

Together we approach the possibly controversial topic of tipping. Having been a full-time server for almost a year now, you’d think I’d have ranted about this long before now, but it’s only recently that I’ve noticed just how stingy some people are.

Fact: Servers don’t even make minimum wage.

Fact: Servers put up with a lot of picky, ignorant, cheap, snotty, and “special” people, and good servers like me keep smiling anyway. Usually.

Fact: A twenty percent tip is considered good; a fifteen percent tip is considered acceptable; a ten percent tip is considered bare minimum albeit ignorant because that was considered good about 10 years ago and hello, have you SEEN gas prices lately?!; and less than that is just plain mean and backwards.

Fact: In a place that has candles on the tables, jazz playing during dinner, $9 glasses of wine, and delicious, if simple, food, a ten percent tip is a slap in the face.

Wikipedia has this to say:

Though by definition a tip is never legally required, and its amount is at the discretion of the person being served, in some circumstances failing to give an adequate tip when one is expected would be considered very miserly, a violation of etiquette, or unethical.

And:

In countries where tipping is the rule (for example United States), complicated social rules and etiquette have developed over the exact percentage to tip, and what should and should not be included in this calculation. In other cultures where tipping exists it is more flexible and no specific assumptions of the tip amount exist. In the United States, it is acceptable to tip anywhere from 15% to 20% if the service is good to superior, and less or even zero for mediocre service. In Canada, a 15% tip is customary for good service.^[8]

Some establishments pool tips and divide them to include employees who lack customer contact. At some restaurants, agreements among the staff require the servers to tip out members of the support staff (kitchen, bartender, and busser) at the end of their shift;^[9]; this means that servers pay a certain fixed percentage of their sales (most often a portion less than 15 percent of total sales) to the other staff. Thus when a patron leaves a small tip, it results in the server having to receive less from the tipping pool than other staff.^[10]

Lately, I’ve had so many people tip me less than ten percent, it’s sickening. If you’re one of those people, give yourself and your wallet a shake! Do I have to launch into my Principles of Generosity lecture? Also, if I’m truly that shoddy of a server, do you think they would’ve appointed me Dining Room Manager? So. Since your bad tipping habits don’t reflect on my skill, it must be an indication of either ignorance or stinginess on your part. (If you’re a good tipper, please disregard these comments )

I’d like to continue this rant, but I think I’ve actually covered all the ground I want to. I’ll leave you with this thought:

Wouldn’t you rather err on the side of generosity?

Frustrated Incorporated

Posted under Ranting, Serverdom by Sarah

It’s 3:42 am, and, while I did just go to bed a little while ago, rather than relax and go to sleep, I found myself planning a conversation with a particularly annoying regular customer of mine, and my heart beat faster rather than slower, and I was inspired, and I had to get up and write!

D is an only child. Me being an over-capable oldest of six, finding out that fact was the equivalent of “‘Nuff said”. D’s wife died of cancer at the end of last summer (for mercy’s sake, you can insert an “aww” here, but only a tiny, pathetic little one), around the time that we found out Mom had cancer in her brain.

For a while, then, it seemed like there was a bit of stuff we had in common. That little while was before him and one of my coworkers started, well, hanging out A LOT, and before he got seasonally laid off from his job. Doom approaches.

It began when D started making awkwardly smug overtures along the lines of helping me through the season of my mom being sick with cancer. He offered me books, which I at first politely and noncommittally said I’d read. Thankfully, they never materialized. Some time later, from his preposterously central (and unavoidable) perch at the bar, accompanied by an attempt to send me a secret message through a certain waggling of his eyebrows and a pointing of his eyeballs, he again offered books. I played dumb. Books for what? Did I ask for books?

“Well, for you know!!”

“No, I’m sorry. For what?” (I’m being barely polite now)

“Well, because your mother’s sick, and…” More waggling and exaggerated looks. “… and then we can talk about it.”

Neither the gestures, the words, or the intent were having any affect on me, however, and, between customers, I knuckled down and told him that I was grateful for the thought, but I really had no interest in reading any books or talking to him about it. Ever. Not even under duress. Okay, I didn’t actually say that, but I probably thought it.

“Oh, so you’re in denial.”

“Maybe. But I have my own people to talk about my denial with.”

Now, after a few months of his being off work and weeks of my seeing D every day, twice or three times a day, topped off with lewd comments about women, asking me to smile, and sitting for hours sipping wine and rubbernecking as I work the room, as if I had grown a third breast (sorry for being crass), I’m more than ready for that work season to begin again. I hope it brings with it interminably long days.

Only a dimwitted person would be oblivious to how little I esteem this particular patron. While he gets a terse, “Glass of wine?” (how dare he make me ask him every time?), the person next to him gets, “Hi! How are ya? What could I get for you today? Lovely day, isn’t it? What brings you to town?” (Exaggeration helps sell a story).

Then the other day came the icing on the cake. Between D’s second and third terrorist attacks, he called to ask in a very roundabout way whether I had the ability to translate from Spanish to English or not. Too soon afterwards, he resumed his perch and his vice, envelope in hand, greeting me with, “I’m going to owe you big-time”. (Just how much, I wonder, could this be worth to him?) Within the envelope was a letter written in Spanish. I wasn’t given any context or back-story, just handed an entree of gobble-dee-gook which I happen to understand, and some expectation on the side.
Hypothetically, if you were a pathetic middle-aged man in an albeit small town with several bars and you were a firm believer in the Spread the Wealth concept, and it was painfully obvious that only one person could stand you at one of those several bars, that one person not being any of the ones that have to serve you at the bar, would you in your right mind not only go three times in one day, but then, without reasonable introduction or explanation, ask a favour worth $50?!

Honestly!!! (Sorry for the multiple exclamation points. My face was seriously expressing that much shock and surprise.)

It being 4:17 am currently, I hope that I have sufficiently put this matter to rest for tonight, and will try to retire. Thank you.

A Short Post

Posted under Coffee, Friends by Sarah

Simply because I haven’t posted for a while, and now that I have high-speed, I really don’t have an excuse not to!

I’m currently sitting at Coffee Culture, my town’s newest addition… a place that’s downtown, is open later than 5:00 pm, and has free wireless! Now if only it actually had decent coffee, I’d be pleased as punch. Still, I’m kinda glad to have a very valid reason to keep frequenting my regular cafe, The Bean, which is conveniently just a few doors down from here, for what is, in my opinion, the best coffee in town: a double Americano.

I think it’s time for an update on my NBS (Numb Bum Syndrome) condition… been a while since I wrote about that. It continues. I gave up on taking Advil all the time and sitting on my donut cushion. I probably should go back to the Advil to fight the inflammation. I’ll start now. There. Two regular strength pills. We’ll see what that does. Let me just say, I’m glad that my job keeps me mostly on my feet, and that my vehicle has great lumbar-supportive seats.

I’ve become even more addicted to Facebook, if that’s possible, what with Facebook mobile and recently having posted lots of pictures. 118 comments later, which all came to my phone… I’m regretting the mobile notifications, haha.

Okay, now I’m just rambling. It’s time for me to go, anyway, and help K and A have a very happy birthday!

Ciao for now.