I’ll have the salad bar and a shoe shine, hold the tip
Where have all the good waitresses gone?
Especially the babes in the short skirts and roller skates. Where have they gone?
Lately it seems like the short skirts and roller skates have been replaced with lousy service and bad attitudes. And yet everyone wants that hefty tip.
And they get pis … extremely mad if you don’t give it to them.
Well, I say let them get mad. Let them throw their tantrums. I’m done. I’m not tipping anymore.
It’s absurd.
My wife and I went out to eat a few weeks ago – I’m not going to say where (Pueblo Inn) – and we had to get our own water. Our food was cold, the bacon tasted like campfire wood and we were there for 30 minutes before anyone waited on us.
And these people acted surprised when we didn’t tip. They couldn’t believe someone was going to walk out of the restaurant without tipping.
You know what tip do? They ensure prompt service. Hence, if they’re not going to give prompt service, it’ll be a warm day in Logan before I leave a tip.
Sizzler is the worst. That’s a restaurant with a muffed-up tipping policy, if you ask me. You stand in line to order your food, you haul your own tray and drinks to a table you have to find by yourself. Then some 17-year-old brings out an extra plate and a Coke refill and expects a 15- to 20- percent tip. It’s a joke.
Well, enough is enough. This tipping thing has gone on far too long. So long, in fact, that even pizza delivery people get tipped now.
If anything, I think these people should be tipping me. That’s right, they should tip you and me and anyone else who goes in and orders a meal. Without you and me, they wouldn’t have any business.
They should get the doors for us, they should give us a shoe shine while we wait for our food, and they should sing our praises for eating in their restaurant.
And I’m tired of sitting in those uncomfortable wooden booths. I want my own separate room with a bed and a hot tub. I want someone else to go to the salad bar for me and a masseuse to work me over while I’m waiting.
I’m tired of conforming to their desires. It’s time they conformed to our desires – yours and mine.
I want my Coke in a glass so big I can sit in it. I want my French fries to be hot for once. I want my ice cream so high I have to rent a manlift to eat the cherry off the top.
And I want a brass band inside my room. I want to listen to live music as I enjoy my food – and I’m not talking about some fat guy walking around singing Italian songs about his Mamma-mia and her pizza-ria. I want real music.
In fact, I don’t even want a brass band. I want a rock and roll legend to play for me. I want Jimmi Page or Eddie Van Halen to play guitar solos while I chow down on Filet Mignon.
And if all these demands are met – if the food’s not cold and the waiter people keep my glass full and the massage is good and the water in the hot tub is warm and relaxing – if all these demands are met, then maybe I might leave a tip.
But just a buck or two, and only if the service is prompt.
Casey Hobson is a junior majoring in journalism. Comments can be sent to hobsonhut@hotmail.com