Divided Loyalties

Not really my friends. Just some random Brits. - Image Source

Fifteen years ago...

I'm out to lunch with a large group of friends one Sunday afternoon. One of those groups you and I hate to wait on above almost all others, that is. A church group - with 12 or 15 separate checks. Lots of waters with lemon were drunk on that day, and quite a bit of plate-sharing was had by all.

You might rightly imagine that in my mind I'm experiencing this Sunday lunch partly from my server's point of view, and not just as a happy-go-lucky diner.

It's a tad surreal, but it's something we really can't help - or just "turn off" either - not even decades after being out of the business, I'm told. Every current or former restaurant worker is still a restaurant person whenever we're dining out. It's therefore difficult sometimes just to relax and to enjoy our meals and our friends, while not simultaneously both critiquing and empathizing with the restaurant staff, sizing up the experience with "other eyes" as we go. That towel on the floor in the bathroom, or that light bulb that's burned out four tables away, bugs us way more than it does you, for instance. And seriously ...? The server actually greets our table while chewing gum? Minus several points, already...

Yet conversely, while I'm feeling understandably miffed that my drink re-fill hasn't happened yet, I'm possibly the only one at our table not asking outloud "where is our waitress?" That's because I know the answer already. While yes I am listening to you my dear friend whom I'm dining out with today, I also happen to know that our waitress got stuck running and serving the food to another server's table not twenty feet from us, opposite the partition. I can see her nodding her head and promising to get something for those guests way over there, way out of her section. You mean you can't?

So on this fateful day fifteen years ago, my group and I have had our fun, and our server dutifully passes out our checks. I alone perhaps also note that she manages to stealthily sneak away before Petunia (you remember Petunia, don't you?) asks the dreaded question. Well played, lass. Now I'm already assuming that the tip has been included in our group's checks - y'know, because it said so on the menu - which I happened to read. A quick glance at my check confirms this. We were auto-gratted. I and others reach for our wallets and pocket-books, when all of a sudden my so-called friend Patti decides to make a point of informing everybody at the table that "the tip has already been included."

I love Patti, and in many years of friendship I've had nothing but respect for her, but at this particular moment I really want to smack her.

In this moment, my loyalties are clearly divided, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm torn between siding with the well-being of my friends, or my fraternity (so to speak). I know Patti's just watching out for our mutual friends' interests and I can respect her for that. Kind of. But forgive me Patti, for also hating you just a bit at the same time. It's not personal of course.

For instance there's this other fellow, whom I generally respect and like in many, many ways. Yet one time, three and a half years ago, I sat across from him at dinner with another large group, and not only was he a pain-in-the-ass to wait on in general, he was also incredibly hyper-critical of our waiter (who did make an initial mistake by bringing this guy the wrong drink .. whoopie). So this guy spends the rest of the meal making intermittent disparaging comments about the service - although everyone else seemed happy enough - and yes at the end, he also whined about the auto-gratuity. To this day I still hold it against him. He has no idea how much respect I've lost for him as a result of his behavior when dining out together, and how it still affects my ability to be close to him. His loss or mine, I dunno ... You tell me - should I try to talk this out with him perhaps, and finally move past it?

Well anyways ... did my eyes just roll back into my head for a second there when my friend Petunia - I mean Patti - took it upon herself to announce to our table that the tip had been included in our checks? Maybe my body tensed up, or my fingers slowly tightened and crumpled my check a bit. Perhaps a deep guttural snarl emanated from the fiber of my very being...

I don't know what it was really (heck, maybe she was just curious) but that's when my friend Ariel, whom I'm sitting next to, turns and asks me

"You tell people when the tip is included, so they don't leave you too much, don't you?"

"Oh no. I long ago got over the moral dilemma of that one" I reply without even thinking twice about how it might come across to her.

So fifteen years later, do I now care how it might come across to you - you readers of my confessional? Or have I maybe changed my mind on this a little, to side with the customers who might accidentally leave me too much as a tip?

Yeah... that would still be a big fat "NOPE!" to both of the above.

Don't judge me. When the Double-Bump happens, we call it Justice.

(And by the way Silly Rabbit, there's no such thing as "tipping me too much.")

But lest ye think my morals have somehow flown out the window, allow me unpack this one a little bit more please. "Why Didn't You Tell Us The Tip Was Included?" is already half-written, and will be coming up ...
 

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