The 300 Dollar Stiff

     The Friday we closed on our new house, we decided to celebrate at a local restaurant.  This had nothing to do with the fact that the new place did not have a microwave oven.  Considering that our house was built in 1960, I suppose this should not have come as a surprise.  After all, the first microwaves weren’t widespread until the mid-1980s.  Yes, yes, I know, they were available long before then, but the earlier versions were expensive, and the general public was concerned about stories of leaked radiation. 

"Radiation, schmadiation. 
I got the first one from Sears and I'm right as rain."

    NOTE:  As of this past Tuesday, we now own a microwave oven.

 

Lead-lined apron or exploding testicles?  You can't be too careful.
NOTE:  Family not included.

    Since we thought we’d have a couple beers, we decided to go someplace close so we could walk home if we got carried away.

    NOTE:  We did not get carried away.  After all, I’m 64.  The next one who will carry me away is the undertaker.

    Since there were only four guys at Five Guys that evening, I was worried the breakfast tacos at Plaza Azteca would spit in my burrito (hey, don’t blame me.  Blame Dr. Jill), and I was afraid I’d need a bowl haircut at Moe’s, we chose a sports bar called “AJ Gators.”

In case you didn't get the joke.

   NOTE:  Unlike Five Guys, AJ’s served beer.  Screw those four guys.

    The food was great and the prices were very reasonable, but the highlight of our visit was our server.  She was very personable, attentive, and kept my beer glass filled  was every bit the professional.

    During the course of our meal, we found out she had also bought a new home.  However, unlike us, it was in Pensacola.   Not for nothing, imagine closing on a house via Zoom?

    Sometime this month, she and her husband will relocate to the free state of Florida.

The Escambia County Chamber of Commerce
is hot on her Welcome Wagon packet.
  And looking for a shirt. 

    We’re planning on returning sometime this weekend to say goodbye.  And order some drinks.

    NOTE:  Walking distance.

"Winning!"

    The topic of serving came up during our conversation.  She said that while most people were fantastic (I sincerely hope we fell into that category), some were much less so.

    One of the most memorable consisted of a party of five who ran up a tab of close to $300.  Considering that the price of food there was very reasonable, I was pretty surprised.

    “Good grief,” I said, “what did they order?  Lobster popsicles?”

   Actually no, she said.  While they did have food, it was mostly appetizers.  The bulk of their order was  alcohol.

    Now don’t get me wrong, I like a cocktail (or several) as much as the next guy.  I was a Sailor, ya know.

I did my best to make the Sixth Fleet proud.

    Our server agreed.  She said she liked a drink (or several-see why we liked her?) herself.

    What really set her off is that she wasn’t left a single dime for the tip.  As much as I’m sure she catered to their every need and busted her tail to make their meal a pleasant one, the fact that a gratuity wasn’t left is appalling.

    Most restaurants, including this one, will automatically levy a gratuity for parties eight or larger.  Since there were only five here, the auto tip didn’t kick in.  18% is normal, 20% is easy math, even 15% is relatively acceptable, but nothing?  Awful.

    As a Multi-Venue Consumption Transportation Representative for Uber Eats, I appreciate it whenever a customer tips.  Not only does it help offset skyrocketing fuel costs, it also gives me a sense that what I’m doing is appreciated.  Even more so if they give me cash.

That's disgusting.
Look how dirty those shoes are.

    That’s why I always tip my server or anyone doing a personal service (minds out of the gutter, please).

    Of course, sometimes your dining experience is not a pleasant one.  Obviously, there are servers out there who are rude, inattentive, or downright incompetent.  These people really shouldn’t be rewarded with a gratuity and should look for work elsewhere.
 

   Like in the federal government.

    But, they are in the minority.  Similarly, any problems with your meal may be completely out of your server’s control.  In that case, cut them a little slack.

    Most of the time, though, these folks, may only work for (sometimes below) minimum wage (which is wrong and a topic for another time) and, so, count on tips. 
 

   So, remember that the next time you go out.  The old maxim rings true.  If you can afford to go out to eat, you can afford to tip.

    Good luck to her in Florida, though.  Where the gators won’t necessarily be cartoon gators.

"What?  No tip? 
Why don't you come a little closer and explain why?"

Next time:  I may go with another History of the World installment.  Or not.  You're not the boss of me.