Last night I got a $100 tip.
This couple came in; Id seen them at least a couple times before, the guy at least. He was there on my second or third day of work, chatting with the manager. He turns to me, says, So, youre new here.
Yup, guess so.
So, do you know how to make a whiskey sour?
Yeah.
Then he just looks at me. He keeps looking at me.
You want me to tell you how to make a whiskey sour?
Yeah.
Umm, well, you fill a glass with ice, pour in an ounce of whiskey, fill it with sour mix. Then you shake it up a little bit and top it with a cherry and an orange slice.
Sounds good, he says. The last bartender didnt know how to make a whiskey sour.
So then a couple weeks later he comes in and says Hey.
I say hey back, but I dont remember him. He reminds me that Im the girl who knows how to make a whiskey sour.
So then last night he comes in with his wife. I realize maybe Ive sent the wife before. She sits down at the bar and orders a Kenwood Cabernet. Hes still chatting with the manager, but then eventually he sits down, but leaves a seat between him and his wife. Shes put her purse there and doesnt move it. He wants a diet Coke. Then they ask for menus. Which was weird because there were plenty of places to sit inside the restaurant proper.
They tell usmost of the servers are hanging around the bar since its freezing in the kitchenthat theyre taking yoga. She does it twice a week. He does it once. They close their menus and I saunter over and say, So, what can I getcha? Theyve been joking with everyone so I figure I can joke, too.
So then I proceed to totally fuck up their meal. The kitchen makes everything in the wrong order, which was totally my fault because of the way that I split up the ticket. But they dont seem to mind. Shes yelling at him because he keeps fucking with his cell phone. She says Joe, its our one night a week together. Act like youre on a date.
They tell us a story about how he asked her if she might like a gift certificate for plastic surgery for Christmas. He swears he was kidding.
So then Im wrapping up their leftovers and the manager comes into the kitchen and ay Dont give them a check. I want to buy their dinner.
I say sure, but what about the cheese grater. We sell cheese graters. People love them. The wife wanted one.
He says, sure, charge them for the cheese grater.
So I give them a bill for not quite eleven dollars. Theres some arguing, that annoying arguing when someone does something nice for you. He pays with a hundred dollar bill, which I cant change so I have to go in back to get it. I come back and drop it for him.
And eventually they leave, everyone is wishing everyone else merry Christmas. And once theyre gone I pick up the book and open it and realize the only thing hes done is taken one of the tens and replaced it with a twenty.
So it was actually a $99 dollar tip. But Im not complaining. I guess that when you (as M said) shit money, this is the kind of thing you do.
This couple came in; Id seen them at least a couple times before, the guy at least. He was there on my second or third day of work, chatting with the manager. He turns to me, says, So, youre new here.
Yup, guess so.
So, do you know how to make a whiskey sour?
Yeah.
Then he just looks at me. He keeps looking at me.
You want me to tell you how to make a whiskey sour?
Yeah.
Umm, well, you fill a glass with ice, pour in an ounce of whiskey, fill it with sour mix. Then you shake it up a little bit and top it with a cherry and an orange slice.
Sounds good, he says. The last bartender didnt know how to make a whiskey sour.
So then a couple weeks later he comes in and says Hey.
I say hey back, but I dont remember him. He reminds me that Im the girl who knows how to make a whiskey sour.
So then last night he comes in with his wife. I realize maybe Ive sent the wife before. She sits down at the bar and orders a Kenwood Cabernet. Hes still chatting with the manager, but then eventually he sits down, but leaves a seat between him and his wife. Shes put her purse there and doesnt move it. He wants a diet Coke. Then they ask for menus. Which was weird because there were plenty of places to sit inside the restaurant proper.
They tell usmost of the servers are hanging around the bar since its freezing in the kitchenthat theyre taking yoga. She does it twice a week. He does it once. They close their menus and I saunter over and say, So, what can I getcha? Theyve been joking with everyone so I figure I can joke, too.
So then I proceed to totally fuck up their meal. The kitchen makes everything in the wrong order, which was totally my fault because of the way that I split up the ticket. But they dont seem to mind. Shes yelling at him because he keeps fucking with his cell phone. She says Joe, its our one night a week together. Act like youre on a date.
They tell us a story about how he asked her if she might like a gift certificate for plastic surgery for Christmas. He swears he was kidding.
So then Im wrapping up their leftovers and the manager comes into the kitchen and ay Dont give them a check. I want to buy their dinner.
I say sure, but what about the cheese grater. We sell cheese graters. People love them. The wife wanted one.
He says, sure, charge them for the cheese grater.
So I give them a bill for not quite eleven dollars. Theres some arguing, that annoying arguing when someone does something nice for you. He pays with a hundred dollar bill, which I cant change so I have to go in back to get it. I come back and drop it for him.
And eventually they leave, everyone is wishing everyone else merry Christmas. And once theyre gone I pick up the book and open it and realize the only thing hes done is taken one of the tens and replaced it with a twenty.
So it was actually a $99 dollar tip. But Im not complaining. I guess that when you (as M said) shit money, this is the kind of thing you do.
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thank you dear