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A Tale Of A Table Of Twenty-Two And How They Tipped

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: Big-Prior-5878 | September 3, 2021

I work at a restaurant in a resort hotel that has a roughly 400-person occupancy post-health crisis, and to say I’ve been getting burnt out is an understatement to the Nth degree. After a rough Friday and Saturday — fifty-plus-minute ticket times, an hour-long waitlist, and just a complete dumpster fire start to finish — I had absolutely no desire to go in yesterday. My faith in humanity was decimated. But I went, and holy s*** was it the best decision I’ve made this year.

The last table of the night was a twenty-two-top youth basketball team with eight adults. I was already pissed, thinking they’d make a mess and have a million split tickets. Then, an angel from the walk-in in the sky blessed me with their presence. All one ticket. More or less well-behaved kids. Everyone was nice and patient. Food came out right. I thought I was having a stroke or another work dream. This angel of a man who was taking care of the tab tipped me $1,200 on top of the included $240 gratuity.

I have never in my life cried from happiness at work in my life. Sad cry? Yes. Angry cry? Abso-f******-lutely. Work July Fourth lakeside and the kitchen catches on fire cry? Just the one time. But never happy crying. This man gave me over $1,400 and could not have been nicer. And I almost called out. My faith in humanity is restored and my eyes are puffy from crying. To think I was dreading coming to work and almost called out.

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