For three nights in a row last week I was the lucky random winner of the "waitress roulette" game we play at the restaurant. In which we take tables in the order that we arrived.
And by lucky random winner I mean that I got the same group of bad tippers three nights in a row. Their meals were comped due to a contract their boss has with the restaurant and they were only tipping me on the beers that they had to pay for. As a result, after serving six men their salads, potato choices, bread, dinners and a few beers, I was tipped a few dollar bills, some dimes and nickels. Not only that, but they were incredibly drunk/high/chemically altered. Now, I'm not complaining and I'm not mad, I just couldn't believe that I got them three nights IN A ROW. I'm a bit of a Pollyanna though, and so in an effort to see the bright side of the situation, I will admit that I did receive my favorite "tip" ever from a member of this group:
One night, one of them gave me a one-dollar bill, said, "great service", and winked at me.
Thanks, Stinky. Turns out they're known for smoking the reefer. Or the pot. Or whatever the kids are calling it these days. Well, one night, all but one of them ordered hash browns as their potato choice. The other had the baked potato. Not until the words came out of my mouth did I realize how hilarious it was when I arrived at the table and queried:
"Now, who's my 'baked potato'"?