I work the counter at a restaurant that rhymes with Stake 'n' Snake.
When people sit to eat at the counter, I am their server.
For some reason, however, since they're not "sitting at a real table" they have decided that I don't get a tip.
Let me try to understand this. I do all the work a server does. I seat you and take your order. I bring you your drinks, I get you your food, your refills and your remakes, your desserts and etc. I make sure you have the most pleasant dining experience possible.
But because you're not sitting at a table or a booth...you aren't being served?
What the hell?
This old guy gave me that argument the other night.
He had me running for everything little thing. Refill on a half-drank soda. More cheese sauce for his fries. The burger 'got cold' so I had to go rush order another for him. Later, when he's paying the bill, he sees the "Tip:______" on the receipt and looks at it, thena t me, and...
"Well...'m not sittin' atta real tabuhl," he drawls, in his barely understandable redneck accent. "So it's ahlright if'n I don't tip ya." He then scribbles the total onto the receipt and lumbers off to go defile the restroom with his nasty Wide-Load behind full of chili burgers and shakes.
ARGH.
When people sit to eat at the counter, I am their server.
For some reason, however, since they're not "sitting at a real table" they have decided that I don't get a tip.
Let me try to understand this. I do all the work a server does. I seat you and take your order. I bring you your drinks, I get you your food, your refills and your remakes, your desserts and etc. I make sure you have the most pleasant dining experience possible.
But because you're not sitting at a table or a booth...you aren't being served?
What the hell?
This old guy gave me that argument the other night.
He had me running for everything little thing. Refill on a half-drank soda. More cheese sauce for his fries. The burger 'got cold' so I had to go rush order another for him. Later, when he's paying the bill, he sees the "Tip:______" on the receipt and looks at it, thena t me, and...
"Well...'m not sittin' atta real tabuhl," he drawls, in his barely understandable redneck accent. "So it's ahlright if'n I don't tip ya." He then scribbles the total onto the receipt and lumbers off to go defile the restroom with his nasty Wide-Load behind full of chili burgers and shakes.
ARGH.
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