And We’ll Bet The Server Didn’t Even Get A Cupcake

My husband and I went to a chain restaurant for dinner tonight. As the hostess took us to a table, we passed a server.

Hostess: *To the server* “This will be your last table for the night.”

Server: *Looking frustrated* “I thought I was done. I don’t want another table.”

Hostess: “Just this one.”

Server: “Okay, fine.”

The hostess took us to our table as the server went off in another direction. My husband and I looked at each other, feeling awkward, but as we arrived at the table and took in the scene across the aisle from it, we immediately understood the server’s reluctance.

Across from us, several tables had been pushed together, and spread across them was the aftermath of a baby shower. None of the customers from this party were still there, but based on the number of chairs crowded around the tables and the (high) number of empty margarita and martini glasses left behind, we guessed they’d had fifteen to twenty people there. They’d definitely had children with them, too, as evidenced by the abandoned plastic-lidded cups and the smashed, picked-apart cupcakes.

And these people freakin’ WRECKED this poor server’s section. The floor under and around their tables was covered in junk — food, napkins, a couple of stand-up happy hour menus, decorations, cupcake wrappers, etc. This restaurant doesn’t serve cupcakes, so they must’ve brought their own. Frosting was everywhere.

They also brought their own decorations, some of which got left behind. Their “IT’S A BOY” banner was still strung up between two pillars. They had also decorated with these little styrofoam balls (from pea-sized to slightly smaller than ping-pong balls) painted blue with silver glitter. These things were EVERYWHERE. They were sprinkled across all of their tables, all over the floor for several feet in every direction — my husband even spotted one in my booth seat as we were leaving.

The place was clearly understaffed — particularly for a mess of this magnitude. Two or three servers besides our own kept popping into the section to spend a few minutes making a dent in the mess and then disappearing again to attend to their own guests.

To our own server’s credit, despite her reluctance to take on another table, she was incredibly kind and professional with us, and our meal was great. She was an older woman, and we got the feeling she’d been doing this kind of work for a long time.

At one point, another server came in to start her shift, and she was talking with our server as they approached our section.

Arriving Server: “After all of this, they tipped you five dollars?!“

Our Server: “Yep!”

My friends, I cannot remember the last time I was so livid on behalf of another person. I live in a country where tipping is customary, and for those unfamiliar, in full-service restaurants, you are generally expected to tip a percentage of your bill. That percentage is debated, but the baseline tip is somewhere between 15% and 20%, usually. My husband and I had one appetizer, two entrees, and two non-alcoholic drinks. Our total was $63. Even if all the baby shower group had actually bought was drinks (at happy-hour prices, mind you) to go with their cupcakes, there’s no way five bucks was anywhere near an acceptable tip — even if they’d cleaned up after themselves, and even if they hadn’t been a large party taking up tables in our server’s section for longer than your average table turnover.

I just don’t understand how someone can have that audacity. We’ve been home for a couple of hours and I’m still SO MAD at those people. I hope the next time each one of them puts on a fresh pair of socks, they step in something wet and either ice cold or suspiciously warm.

I checked with some friends later who’d worked for the same chain, and they don’t have automatic gratuity added for large parties. We did leave a $50 tip to hopefully offset some of the frustration of our server’s rough shift.