I'm Giving You Eight Cents- Don't Spend It All In One Place, Now.

Actual conversation between a Dirtball Customer* and I today:

Me: How was everything?

Dirtball Customer: Oh, it was good.

(She then hands me a credit card and her bill, which was $20.92.)

Me: Would you like a copy of the receipt?

DC: Yes. And unfortunately, I can only afford eight cents.

Me: Eight cents?

DC: Yes. Eight Cents. For the gratuity.

Me: (actually, I didn't say anything right away. I just blinked at her in disbelief.) Um. We don't need to put eight cents on here.

DC: Oh, yeah, go ahead- it makes it easier for my husband to balance the account.

So I put an EIGHT CENT TIP on her stupid credit card. I'd like to go to her job and pay her less than what she's worth or nothing at all, but I'm convinced she doesn't have a job and probably lives off government funding so she can buy cigarettes for herself and pop for her offspring.

Stereotypical and harsh of me? Yes. Do I give a fuck? Not really. If you can't afford to leave a tip, you shouldn't be eating out at all, White Trash Skank! I'm not waitressing simply to spend time with you and your rude, Mountain Dew swilling family- I'm trying to pay my bills!

I'm just sayin'.




*Dirtball Customer- a patron who is rude/ ridiculous/trashy and has a tendency to not tip and act aloof about it. These customers, thankfully, are few and far between at my work. But they still wander in from the bowels of our town now and then simply to ruin my day and make me want to smash their faces in.