Dear Post-it Note Guy:
Could you please, please explain to me why you took a pad of Post-its out of your pocket and stuck them all over your menu, except for on the dessert section, which understandably you were still reviewing? Oh, it's cattle prices? Quadruple digits? Wow.
PS: If you don't want your waitress knowing how wealthy you are don't stick it to the menu and then leave a sad, pitiful tip. Thank you.
Dear People Who Own Half the Town:
$1.96? Really? You're too rich to take your sunglasses off inside and you leave $1.96?
Dear Any Family With Kids:
Babysitter.
Dear Guy Who Wanted An Ice Cream Cone:
I'm sorry I got you strawberry instead of chocolate. Really, that was my bad. Did having pink ice cream poke a hole in your masculinity? Either way, thank you for being such a good sport about it, even though your joke about not tipping me wasn't funny.
Dear Guy Who Thought He was Funny:
When a waitress asks you "How many?" she wants the real answer. Don't say "8" when there's really only "6" and then laugh when she ends up with too many menus and after she's already re-worked the tables on the smoking side to accommodate a table of 8. I'm being honest with you when I say it's not as funny as you think. Not at all.
1 comment:
Maybe funny guy is just really bad at math and his laughter was to hide his embarrassment that he didn't know the difference between 6 and 8?
Really, strawberry instead of chocolate? Of course it offended his masculinity. Real men don't hang out with guys who eat pink ice cream.
Rich people are the worst tippers ever! I know when I used to deliver pizza that going to the richest neighborhoods was going to mean the worst tips. It's as if they think we should be grateful they let us serve them and that should be enough. grrrrrr....
wv: oplessee "Oplessee, is that all the more you are going to leave for a tip, why bother."
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