Funny you should ask, because I just gave you a $10 bill, and my latte and raspberry scone came to $5.75. As much as I think you’re pleasing to look at, and you do magical
things with frothy milk, I just don’t see your services commanding a 70-plus percent premium over the market rate for my breakfast.
And you, my dear bartender, who cracked open a $4 beer bottle, and handed me back my change entirely in a stack of one-dollar notes. Very subtle. As though the sheer bulk of
that paper would deter me from putting it back in my wallet, and,
ed hardy on sale defeated, I’d simply leave it there for you like
a burnt offering on your sticky altar.
At least you two left me a choice, unlike the menu last night, whose fine print stated how “parties of six or more will be charged a 20 percent gratuity.” Because there’s
simply no way that six adults can gauge the service of a meal (one of hundreds in their lives) with any degree of accuracy. Better to just slap us with a perfunctory tax and
screw up our orders anyway. Once that tip is locked in, who cares if the fish is cold?
Yes, I know you’re all underpaid. But guess what? So am I. When I get $500 for an article that I think is worth $1,000, you won’t see me e-mail the editor, saying, “Just so
you know, service isn’t included.” Do I ask you to come into my workplace and supplement my meager income? No, I don’t.
Sure, you’re in the service industry. But doesn’t that mean that
ed hardy t-shirts my gratuity should be a reward
for better service, or at least an incentive? It sure wasn’t to the taxi driver the other night, who sped through two red lights, hopped a cement divider (nearly toppling his
S.U.V.) and then strongly “suggested” that I elect the 25 percent tip option on the credit card payment system. Maybe if I had paid up, his next passenger would have had a
smoother ride.
Oh, sure, I’m cheap. But not as cheap as your boss, apparently, who figures he can pay you the minimum wage of $4.65 for servers, and the customer will just pick up the rest of
your living expenses.
Imagine if everyone did that. As you file out of the airplane, there’s the pilot, standing with his palm outstretched like a doorman who just let you into the hotel: “Hope you
enjoyed your flight. Ahem, bit of a rough landing there, ahem.
ed hardy woman shoes Not too easy to pull off, you
know. Oh, why thank you, sir. You shouldn’t have.”
I could elect not to tip, but that is as much an option as refusing to pay your income tax because you’re a member of the Tea Party. So here’s the deal: I’ll keep forking
over my change, you keep smiling, and we’ll both lobby for an increase in the minimum wage.