No Server Wants This Type of Note Instead of a Tip

10958398_665722020204495_253805023_nSince this blog is basically the same ten topics written in different ways over and over again, let’s again discuss the annoying trend of people leaving little notes to their servers explaining why they cannot leave a tip. First off, we don’t want your stupid fucking notes. I don’t care how good your penmanship is and I don’t care what you are writing, unless the note is on a personal check made out to me, don’t waste your time.

The photo we have here today was sent to me by a waitress who had the misfortune of serving someone who was on a budget. When it came time to pay the check, Ms. Penny Pincher pulled out just enough dollars from her ham wallet to cover the bill, but when it came time to leave a tip, that’s where the budget ran dry. Despite the excellent service, this customer thinks that a sweet little note will take the place of cash money. We care not that the note was crafted upon the finest paper in all the land that was pressed from organic cottonwood trees that only bloom once every ten years. It does not matter to us that the ink from the pen came from India and was made by a 99-year old, blind ink curator who sells his wares in front of his hut made of clay. We are not impressed if you took a calligraphy class and your note looks as fancy as an invitation to a royal fucking wedding. We want money for tips.

Another thing we do not want is excuses. If you’re on a budget, then maybe you should not be eating at a restaurant because when you go out to eat, you need to factor in the tip as part of the cost, especially if the service is excellent. Don’t throw us any bullshit excuses about having rent due, because newsflash: so does the server! Don’t tell us that you’re pregnant and that need to save your money and don’t tell us that you ran out of cash. Just pony up a tip and let us turn the table over so we can continue on with our job of serving.

Finally, if you are going to leave a note that says you can’t afford to tip, you probably will want to leave off the part about how you will be back. The server does not want you to come back. In fact, if you do come back and the server sees you, that server will tell whoever ends up waiting on you to not waste their time. You will get the bare bones of service and nothing else. You see, when a server knows they aren’t going to get a tip, you are going to receive $2.13 and hour worth of service and, like the hourly wage, it ain’t much: your glass will be filled, your order will be taken, your food will be dropped and then you will get your check. Boom. That is what you get for no tip. Also, when you leave a big “thank you” at the bottom of the no-tip note, it comes across as insincere.

If you know that you are not going to leave a tip when you come into a restaurant, why don’t you just let the server know that when you sit down? Oh, I know why: because you’re a cheap ass coward. You know that telling the server beforehand is going to affect your service which means that you know you should be leaving a tip.

Bottom line: if you can’t afford to leave a tip when the service is good, you can’t afford to be eating out in a restaurant. Keep your notes to yourself and cough up a tip, asshole.

Someone Says Tipping is a Choice, Not an Obligation. I Beg to Differ.

635759964452174303-notip-082415By now, we have all heard about New Jersey waitress Jess Jones who was stiffed on a $112 check because the customer said they waited an hour for the food. Not only did they stiff her, they were one of those smug assholes who decided to write a little note in the tip line too. “LOL,” they wrote, justifying the lack of tip by citing the extraordinary wait time for their dinner. “Even though they did wait an hour to eat, they remained satisfied with filled drinks and proper notice that the kitchen was a bit busier than normal. I’ve worked in the service industry for five years and I take pride in providing great service to my customers,” said Jess.

We are all used to the occasional shitty tip and taking the blame for things that are out of our control. If the kitchen is slammed and food times are through the roof, it’s the servers who pay the price. If a burger is overcooked and a customer is upset by that, the cook who burned that burger isn’t going to see some money come out of his paycheck, but the waiter might get less of a tip for it. It sucks, but that’s the way it is. Conversely, when the food is wonderful and comes out quickly and is exactly as the customer wants it, the cook doesn’t get extra cash in his paycheck while the server might benefit. It’s the way of the restaurant world.

The photo of Jess’s tip has gone viral and lots of people have written about. I wasn’t going to until I saw an article about it called “Tipping is a Choice, Not an Obligation.” It first appeared to me via a Facebook page called PuckerMob which led me to the article on their website. It was written by Jay Miletsky who, although he says he worked as a waiter during college, seems to have forgotten the importance of tips. “Our society has become so entitled that it’s now completely beyond comprehension that tipping is not a requirement and should never be expected,” he writes.

No, it’s not a requirement and we all know that. The issue lies with the fact that this customer chose to not tip because of something that had nothing to do with the server who communicated to the table that things were a bit slow. She did the best that she could under less than ideal circumstances and rather than leave less of a tip, the customer chose to leave nothing at all. Again, it’s not the law to leave a tip, but it is part of our social contract that you do it. It’s part of the same contract that we all try to agree upon in order to be nice people. There is no law that requires you to offer your seat on the train to a pregnant woman, but most people do it because it’s the right thing to do. It is not required that you pitch in a few bucks to buy a gift for one of your coworkers who is leaving, but most of us do it, because it’s nice. The world we live in is full of these social and moral obligations that we uphold and tipping at a restaurant is one of them.

Mr. Milestky writes that “It’s (tipping) not mandatory. Whatever is left should be appreciated, not expected. And if nothing is left, it’s not the ‘scorned’ food service employee’s place to berate, attack, or publicly humiliate the customer.” I’m sure Jess would have appreciated anything that was left but since she had nothing to appreciate, I guess she did the one thing that will make her feel better about working for absolutely nothing: she expressed her dissatisfaction on social media. And before someone jumps in to remind us that servers make a salary, let me remind you that the hourly wage for servers in New Jersey is $2.13 so you bet your ass that Jess depends on tips and it’s no wonder she was upset enough to take a picture and blast it out on Facebook.

Until this country agrees to do away with tipping and have restaurants pay servers a real hourly wage, this is what you do when you go out to eat: you tip. I’m not saying that every server deserves a 20% tip; you tip based on the service that you received. If your waiter or waitress did everything that was necessary for you to have a nice dining experience, tip them well. If the server was rude to you, ignored you, fucked everything up and then didn’t try to fix it, sure leave a crappy tip, they earned it. But when you’re disappointed with something that happened in the restaurant and it had nothing to do with the person who took your order, leave a fucking tip. No, it might not be a requirement and you didn’t sign a contract saying you would do it, but if you want to fit in with the majority of the people who live in this world you have to accept it. And if you’re not willing to leave a tip then you have to be willing to accept that an upset waitress from New Jersey might take a picture of your credit card slip and show the world what a cheap asshole you are.

Here is PuckerMob’s Facebook page. Tell ’em I said hello and that you don’t agree with Jay Milestky.

A Comment on Comments; the “Jew fro” edition

A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

Every now and again, I will take six seconds out of my time at work to create a video that I look at as a Public Service Awareness event. Such was the case last week when I did a video simply asking people to say “please” and “thank you” when dining out in a restaurant. I suggested that by using such simple manners, it could get them better service because servers are more apt to go out of their way for customers who are genuinely nice to them. I posted the video to the Bitchy Waiter Facebook page thinking it would be a harmless piece of advice and never expected anyone to have a problem with it. Boy, was I wrong.

Video of the day. #serverlife

A video posted by thebitchywaiter (@thebitchywaiter) on

Some man named John really took offense to it. He posted dozens of comments about the video and me specifically, insulting not only my profession, but my physical appearance. Perhaps posting comment after comment on a Facebook page is John’s way of compensating for a vey small penis and it’s how he fulfills himself. Many people say that I can dish it out, but can’t take it when someone is mean to me. The truth is, I can take it, but I have a bigger platform to respond to the insults. (I also have a bigger penis.)

This is John’s first comment:

Alright John, I do not have a ”Jew fro.” I’m not even Jewish, you stupid schmuck. Speaking like a bitch is just the way I speak. Actually, I write like a bitch more than I speak like one, but neither causes patrons to make fun of me. You may think I’m fucking stupid, buy you’re the dumbass if you thought you could say these things about me and not expect some type of retaliation. I wonder what, in the six-second video, shows that I am a vindictive gay man. Reminding people to say “please” and “thank you” is by no means vindictive. Vindictive would be me spending an hour on a blog post to say what an asshole you are.

Then, John showed he has no reading skills:


Ummm, this page is called The Bitchy WAITER, not “bartender.” And it’s cute how you stress that you’re not gay and have nothing against gay people. Are you sure you’ve never had anything against a gay man? Like maybe your micro-penis against the buttocks of some young stud after the two of you had a few too many beers in your mom’s basement? Me thinks John doth protest too much because, based on his profile, he works at a gentleman’s club surrounded by tits because, you know, he’s super straight.

Later on, when someone wanted to know why I don’t just go get another job, John popped up again to squirt out some more thoughts:


Now John is assuming I’m uneducated and have no other choices in life because that must be the only reason anyone would ever choose to wait tables. His argument is ironic since he himself also waits tables. And then goes back to calling me vindictive but this time he also calls me small. John, I am 5’ 9” and, while not tall, I’m not small either. The only thing small here is that teeny tiny Vienna sausage of a penis you have in your underwear. Okay, it may be wrong of me to assume your penis is small and that you are dealing with some kind of Napoleon Syndrome that leads to aggressive multiple postings and that this is your way of showing the world you have some type of power, but I’m gonna go ahead and go with that assumption.

In an attempt to justify his rants, he then posts something to let us all know that he is in the industry:


Dickless John, if you are getting paid in figs, you work for a shitty company. At least you should ask for Fig Newtons.


I don’t know about anyone else, but what John is doing seems exactly like airing his bitchiness out on Facebook. I would suggest that he stop airing out his bitchiness and try airing out his asshole instead which is quite possibly stuffed full of figs. No one wants a figgy asshole, John.

Eventually, John stopped posting. We can only assume that he either got tired of saying the same thing over and over again or that his own ass swallowed him whole. I vote for the former because his asshole was probably too busy trying to get away from the ass to which it was attached. With any luck, his asshole made its escape and is now safely ensconced in a foster home free of figs and able to do what it wants. Meanwhile, John is back at work at the titty bar hoping that if he stare sat enough naked breasts, his penis will grow to the size of a roll of Lifesavers.

Fuck you, John. And thanks for being one if the 242,152 people who follow my Facebook page.

The Truth About Waiting On Old People

Old people got no reason...

Old people got no reason…

Now you know I loves me some old people, because I am practically one myself, but some old people are able to crawl right up my asshole and stay there until they have chewed the last nerve off of my prostate and that is exactly what happened last week at work. (You can click here if you want to hear me sing my feelings about these old people…) I have some regulars who come in every couple of weeks. They seem to have been married for decades and decades and they are really old. Like, it would not surprise me to learn that he proposed by hitting her over the head with a club and then dragging her by the hair back to a hole in the ground. Their wedding photo is probably on the wall of a cave somewhere and they registered at Bed, Bath and Brontosaurus. They are old.

Every time they come in, they ask for bread as soon as they drop their creaky asses onto the chair. They always tell me they don’t need bread plates and refuse to let me put them on the table. The thing is though, they do need bread plates. They are the messiest eaters I have ever seen and if my boss would let me tie bibs around their neck, I would. I’d tie them tight too, like asphyxiation tight. But no bread plates for them and I watch them eat the bread like a couple of cartoon beavers chopping down tress for a dam, crumbs flying in all directions and landing everywhere except their mouths. When they leave, it usually looks like a sawmill just took a dump on the floor. This time, I was ready for them. I had the bread basket and two plates ready when they made their way, very slowly, to the table. I placed the bread in front of them and the woman said, “Take that away so we don’t eat it.” It’s almost like she said she didn’t want it just so she would have something to complain about.

They always need everything with no salt and no oil or butter but every time I place the food, the first thing they ask for is a salt shaker. One time she complained that the sautéed spinach was dry and had no flavor. Ummm, there’s no salt, oil or butter, lady. If there is no such thing as Shaken Old People Syndrome, I am about to create it. The two fossils order food to share which is fine with me, but when the man orders a decaf and I see both of them drinking it and asking for refills, I want to put an ear worm in his hearing aid. And, yes, for the third time, it is decaf.

The woman drinks so much water that I have to fill her glass every time I walk by the table. It’s like she’s a camel stocking up for a three-day trip through the Sahara desert on her way to an oasis full of non-salted spinach and oil-free food. In her attempt to be helpful, she hands me the glass each time rather than let me pour the water as it sits on the table. It’s sweet of her, but the glass is covered in grease and crumbs. It’s slippery and I don’t know where the oil is coming from since I didn’t serve her any. I can only assume that she secretes some type of old-people juice that comes from her fingers and ends up on her glass, consequently getting on me. I don’t need your old-people juice, ma’am.

When they are finished, the floor is a blanket of food with at least one fork, spoon or knife. The table is covered in sauces, balled up napkins, crumbs and the occasional toothpick. They always tell me they are in a hurry for the check, but based on how slowly they move, they do not know the meaning of the word “hurry.” Besides that, I can’t imagine what they could possibly be in a hurry for. Trying to outrun the grim reaper? My money’s on the reaper. The tip is always about 12%.

“We’ll see you next time,” they say.

“Only if you get cataract surgery, “ I think.

I smile. I am never anything but kind to them and I save my true thoughts for this blog. Off they go, into the night, back to their home that is probably a sea of leftover bread crusts and used hearing aid batteries.

“Have a good night,” I say. “See you next time.”

How Can Applebee’s Do This To Melly?

Screen Shot 2015-08-18 at 12.13.04 PMWe all need to take a moment out of our very busy day to acknowledge the trying times that Melly is going through. As I was scanning the Applebee’s Facebook page trying to find something that would inspire me to write yet another stupid blog post, I came across Melly’s comment and it stopped me in my tracks. All of us have experienced difficulty in our lives, but Melly’s ordeal is unlike any I have ever heard of. We must organize a prayer circle for her immediately and send out the most positive of vibes as she tries to make sense of this world she now lives in: Applebee’s no longer has potatoe skins or chicken sizzleing fajitas!

(click here for an audible reaction)

What the fuck is wrong with you, Applebee’s? You can have beef sizzleing fajitas, but not chicken sizzleing fajitas? That makes absolutely no sense! How are people like Melly supposed to wrap their head around that decision? It was bad enough when you yanked potatoe skins off the menu, prying them from Melly’s hands like they were one of Meryl Streep’s babies in Sophie’s Choice. Melly was able to still manage to get to Applebee’s at least three times a month, but with this whole chicken sizzleing fajitas debacle, you have gone too far! You have pushed Melly down the plank and she has been forced to jump off it and land at TGIFriday’s. The shame, Applebee’s, the shame!

Here is what you must do to win Melly back: bring back these menu items and do it now. In fact, you should create a new menu item called Melly’s Sizzleing Chicken Potoatoe Skins Fajitas and just to sweeten the pot, you should add some of your Applebee’s Riblets in there too. And instead of tortillas, you should serve them in a waffle cone drizzled with chocolate syrup and topped with whipped cream, but not fresh whipped cream, just the kind from a can. And you should let Melly eat these for free, not just three times a month, but three times a week! What other option do you have, Applebee’s? Do you honestly want her to go to TGIFriday’s and gorge herself on Endless Apps? No! No. You. Don’t.

Melly, I am here for you. I hope that my plea to the God’s of Applebee’s hear my prayers and resolve this issue for you. You deserve more than this crass treatment from a restaurant that you love so much. In the meantime, you are in my thoughts. I only wish I was with you to give you hug and to wrap you up in a piece of leaf lettuce and call you My Lil’ Potsticker. Be strong, Melly. Be strong.

First you take potatoe skins off the menu….. Now you take off the chicken sizzleing fajitas… You have beef sizzleing…

Posted by Melly Sacco on Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Customer Rips Apart Restaurant on Yelp So I Do the Same To Her

11874046_10153057673824290_43809460_nMost anyone who works in a restaurant has a love/hate relationship with Yelp and when I say “love/hate,” I mean “hate/fucking hate.” Yelp is like the ingrown hair in every restaurant’s ass crack that you try to pluck out but it just keeps coming back like the weed of humanity. Customers look at Yelp as their own personal complaint box and when anything goes against their wishes, they log in and shart out a few dozen words of drivel hoping it will make a difference. Such is the case with Heather M. who was oh so upset when she went to a restaurant called The District Café and Eatery that wouldn’t let her bring in two children with ice cream they had brought from a nearby establishment. Sorry, Heather M., but rules is rules and I have something to say to you:

You have worked in the food and beverage industry for twenty years, so I would think you would understand how it works, but instead, you see your years of service as a free pass to do something no one else is allowed to do. While it’s great that your daughter performed with the Savannah Children’s Choir in celebration of some old ice cream shop, it doesn’t mean you can bring that drippy droppy mess of a free ice cream cone into the restaurant and then not order the ice cream they have probably have on their menu. No it’s not a Happy Meal or a pizza, but ice cream is still food. What part of “No outside food or drinks allowed” do you not get?

Yes, you claim that all five of you (3 adults, 2 kids) were planning on ordering food and drinks, but really? C’mon, Heather M., we all know after a kid finishes an ice cream cone, it isn’t going to order lunch. Unless your daughter worked up a massive appetite because she belted out sixteen bars of high C’s and then twerked her butt off for thirty minutes, she’s gonna say, “I’m not hungry.” When you asked for the manager, did you think that someone who is paid to enforce rules would bend them for you? The server, lovely as she was, already told you what the policy was, but you wanted to go above her.

It’s a shame that you will never go back since you go there so often, you love the food so much and the service is always great. You’re going to give up on a great restaurant because you don’t like their policy of not allowing people to bring in their own food? You claim that the management needs to get a clue. I would say the same thing about you, but you probably couldn’t find a clue even if you were Super Glued to Sherlock Holmes’ toilet and he shit one out right in front of you. You may be disappointed with the restaurant, but I’m disappointed in a 20-year restaurant veteran who thinks it’s okay to slam a business on Yelp. You think it’s sad that you can’t eat lunch at a place that will let your daughter eat her free ice cream, but I bet it’s not any sadder than sitting through an hour performance of the Savannah Children’s Choir warbling out tunes about frozen dessert treats.

I commend the restaurant’s reply to Heather M. because they stand behind their server who was just doing the right thing. The restaurant also gives a very reasonable explanation of the policy. Heather M., I’m sorry to come down on you so hard, but I am firmly on the side of the restaurant. Good luck to your daughter and her Children’s Choir career and I hope you enjoy your time at Treylor Park where she can eat all the free ice cream her little heart desires.

This Yelp complaint was sent to me by Heather M. herself who thought I would be on her side. Sorry, girl.

Here is the restaurant’s most excellent response:

Screen Shot 2015-08-17 at 12.41.06 PM