Sometimes a blog posting is hard to come up with. I scratch my head and ponder the possibilities and every so often I draw a blank. On the other hand, every once in a while a topic drops into my lap like manna from Heaven and I don’t even have to think about it. Today’s posting is brought to you by the Parisian bitch who sat in my station last night. I don’t know what her name is so I will refer to her as Fifi le Douche.
When people come into the club, they are given a seating pass which tells hem where they are to be seated for the show. We escort them to their seat and then expect them to stay there, but Fifi needed some super glue on her ass last night because she was hop skippin’ and jumpin’ all over the damn place. What the customers don’t get is that it’s imperative for them to stay in the seat we assign to them because our totals have to match the totals of the host so that the performer knows exactly how many people were in the audience because that is how their pay is based. The more people they have in the audience, the more they can make. When people move all the fuck around it makes it difficult to ensure that all of the totals match. Get it? Simple, right? Fifi didn’t get that. I went up to table 2 to take an order and Fifi coos at me that she is not sitting here really. She is “seating over zere” but she is just visiting this table. Fine. I go to her correct table to get her seating pass to write down her order and she asks for a suavignon blanc. Because she’s French, you know. Two minutes later she is walking round the room and she comes up to me to ask where her wine is. Listen, le bitch, the bartender has to fucking pour it first, chill le fuck out. She wasn’t even in her seat so how am I supposed to know where to put it anyway? I took her wine to her and the show started.
Fifteen minutes later, the other server tells me that table 1 wanted a Diet Coke (Coke Light, whatever) and he took it to her. Once again Fifi shows she has not the patience to wait for her server. She accosts anyone with an apron. At the end of the show, she of course wasn’t at her table. She had floated off somewhere, so I placed her check on the table and went on with my business. About thirty minutes later, she was the only one who hadn’t paid her bill yet so I went to find her. She was at the front of the club parlez vous Francaisin’ to someone. I handed her the bill and told her I would be back in a few minutes to pick it up. Two minutes later she comes up to me with the check and says, “Excuse me, but I need to take care of this right away because I must leave.” Pardon moi, but after the check sat on your table for half a fucking hour, now you’re ready to leave and you act like I’m the one who is holding you up? At this point, all I wanted to do was slap this bitch with a piece of french toast, cram a french fry up her ass and then cover her with french dressing and say au revoir. Her tip was about ten percent which is spot on for the average French tourist. Fifi le Douche did a fine job of living up to every stereotype in the book. Au revoir, Fifi le Douche. Bon Voyage. Fuck off.
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Kaos
I have stated before (in the future really since it’s on more recent posts…but tomato/tomaato) that I’ve never been a server. I did however work (30 years) in a job with the general public that was nevertheless a tipping expected type job.
Whenever I worked for others the minimum guarantee was state minimum not special tipped employee minimum, and when I worked for myself it was however much I could get away with charging with a straight face…still those tips were nice, and believe me I earned every single penny. I can’t count the number of times I wanted to just stab someone in the head with a pair of scissors. They obviously had my training and experience and knew better than me because they read it somewhere or someone told them… *something.*
I have always lived/worked in places that would be considered tourist areas so in addition to my bread and butter local clients, I got an awful lot of tourists through the years.
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Best tippers: South Americans, particularly Venezuelans for some reason…considering the state of their economy for pretty much the entirety of my existence this surprised me. Greeks have always been pretty generous,likewise the Spanish. Americans (US) and Canadians from the coastal regions (e.g. LA, San Francisco, Seattle, NYC, Boston, Vancouver, Portland…), and larger cities (e.g. Chicago, Toronto, Minneapolis, Phoenix…) with the exception of most of the US “South.”
*Some* of the southern cities (e.g. Houston, Miami, Atlanta…) were pretty ok, but mostly if they were from the south or any of the flyover states, tips were minimal at best.
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Worst tippers: Germans…I expect they may be better if they are in a place where they are likely to have beer. Alas, my salon was not one of those places.
Who else? Let’s see… The French, the British, almost anyone from any country in Eastern Europe and what is now but was for a lot of “then” the USSR, pretty much anywhere in East Asia (i.e. China, Japan, Korea, etc.).
Except for *north* Africa, almost all representatives of almost all African countries I encountered over the years were rather reserved and sometimes down right parsimonious. Almost all of the US south and flyover states, excluding the aforementioned bigger cities like Chicago et al.tend to be a bit on the frugal side.
The “Southwest” is a mixed bag…Vegas people are pretty free with the tips (natch) while those from Amarillo are a bit more…conservative.
*North* Africa aka “the Maghreb” (not including Egypt) was surprising. People were very generous. After living there for a few years though I get it. Most people aren’t wealthy in any way that we in the US define “wealthy” and the ones who are “well off” like to make sure it’s known…clothing, cars, food, tips for their hair cuts. Don’t misunderstand. I love the people of the Maghreb…I married one of them, he is wonderful. My opinion is based on observation and interaction with the population ***as a whole*** over a multi year period of time.
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Best tipper ever: This guy who was originally from some place way up in northern Canada in the Northwest Territories. He would come in every three weeks like clockwork and give me 100% tip, every single time. IIRC he owned a gold mine (not as a company, but his own mine) so that probably had something to do with his free flowing ways. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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Best day at the salon: The day I locked the door for the final time. I was tired of dealing with all of them and had spent the last six months basically hiding out in the back napping under the hair dryers while people knocked on the locked door. I’d sold my share of the business and bought several plane tickets. I took off to visit the world and finish my PhD. It was time. I’ve never looked back.
Kittylitter
My poodle is offended that her breed was chosen to represent such as inconsiderate asshat. As an aside, poodles are not french, they are German. France just chose them as their favorite dog.
Anonymous
Spot on Bitchy! I have been working with general public for 12 years and always had terrible experiences with the French. Stereotypes that they are rude and snobbish are definitely true.
dirtydisher
My poodle resents her.
Anonymous
I just want to let you know that you blog/speak/rant about everything i think about everyday, and I love it. I keeps me sane, as a server. It's a good feeling to know I'm not the only bitchy waiter! I stumbled on this blog while I was, ironically, googling others opinion on working at my restaurant. haha. You kick some ass. Keep 'em coming!