If You Can’t Convince ‘Em, Confound ‘Em

I work in a restaurant. We have a table with eight people, and they ask to split the bill four ways — amongst couples. I give them the whole “inform me of any discrepancies” speech and bill them out. The tips are 20% all around except for one couple. The guy leaves me less than 10%, but no sweat. I’m not bothered.

Twenty minutes later, I see the cheap tipper’s wife on her way back into the restaurant, all geared up for a fight. It is getting quiet — just a couple tables. It’s a great audience for what was about to occur.

She storms in, pulls out the bill, and indignantly points out one of the appetizers.

Woman: “This appetizer was shared and, as such, my husband should not have been charged for it! It is ridiculous that we should pay for this!”

I immediately feel a huge wave of pity for the husband who was clearly drilled in the parking lot for fifteen minutes.

I compose myself carefully, go ALL SMILES, and ask:

Me: “So, you want me to reopen the table, refund the card, then charge the card again for a different amount, process the table again, and have us eat the cost of the app?”

Woman: “Yes.”

Me: “Well, honestly… that’s ridiculous. It’s a lot of work. But I think I can make this right.”

I pull out my wallet and try to hand it to her.

Me: “Seems to me like we owe you some money, so how much do you want?”

Woman: “What are you doing? Can’t the restaurant cover it?”

Me: “Sure, but I’m not going to ask my boss to cover this one. The food was good, right?”

She nods.

Me: “And until I messed up with the bill, service was good?”

She nods again.

Me: “Okay, so it’s my mistake. This is between me and you, so let me make it right. How much do you want? Twenty dollars? Forty dollars?”

She starts looking really uncomfortable about mugging me all of a sudden. I fan out my float; it’s not a lot. I am twenty-three, and I look it, too.

Me: “Go ahead! What was the app, thirteen dollars, plus tax and tip? Here, take twenty for now and you’ve actually made a few dollars tonight, right? Is that enough? Do you want more? You can have my whole wallet.”

I politely tried to give her more.

Shellshocked, she slowly took the twenty out of my hand and walked out of the restaurant, head hanging way down.

Sometimes it’s very clear what people want, and sometimes giving it to them makes them see what is really happening; a grown woman is leveraging her bad attitude and emotions to “win one over” on some kid, some business, anything at all.

I would’ve paid $500 easily to never see her again; I got a good deal. I still am awestruck that she had the gall to take it.