Some friends and I went out to lunch today. We went somewhere we wouldn't normally go, but we had specifically planned for some time to go spend a little more money than we generally would because after lunch this establishment had some desserts we wanted to try.
It was exciting at first. We all got together and carpooled downtown. We were lucky to find a parking spot just outside. When we got in there was only a few minute wait. Once we sat down, however, the tide of darkness began to spread. Being that this was a workday, some of us being hourly and clocking in and out, every minute mattered. We knew we'd have to be quick, deciding our choices with haste and then bringing dessert back to the office. At every turn though we were thwarted.
Our initial impression of our waitress was deceiving. She seemed nice, attentive, and quick witted. Once again the lesson of not judging a book by its cover is made apparent. After getting our first glasses of water, teas, and sodas we were not visited for some time. Then we were given the opportunity to order. We did so quickly and emphasized the need for speed. The waitress gave the impression of understanding and with prompting even refilled our drinks too! Our rekindled hopes were soon doused as we sat waiting, idly, for our food to arrive. Drinks once again empty stayed just so. No wait staff were to be seen. As our frustrations began to come to bear with slightly awkward jokes about finding a manager or how perhaps the restaurant was much busier than it actually was or the kitchen staff that we could see from our seats might not exist, our food arrived. This time it was a kitchen runner who brought the food. Our waitress stopped by moments later asking if the food we hadn't even had the chance to start tasted good. She didn't really wait for a response and went off to some more important duty one would assume. Our empty drinks staying so.
With the arrival of our food some of our cheer returned and we ate quickly. When we were done we sat and waited. Then we waited some more. As we were about to get up and find a manager our waitress arrived again and asked if we were done. We ordered our pieces of dessert and the check saying we were now in a big hurry. She giggled and made a joke about sweets and went off bringing back our treats quickly and the check. A glimmer of hope. A light at the end of the tunnel. Or at least so we thought.
Since we were a group at a restaurant more expensive than we would normally frequent, we all needed to split the check. No one could afford to simply foot the bill this day. So we gathered our cash and with our large group there were only three credit cards to run. We wrote down names and amounts on the check. I apparently made some glorious faux pas when I put "the rest" next to my name.
It wasn't long until she came back to collect the check. We told her that there was cash and then three cards with the amounts written on the check. She smiled and laughing said it would be no problem. We thanked her for dealing with the multiple cards. The part of the group paying cash took the leftovers and desserts and went to warm up the car thinking we would only be a moment.
A minute or two after the left the waitress returned with the receipts to sign for the cardholders. We split them up to the rightful owners and it was right about then I thought something might be wrong. Mine was for about $40 more than I had thought I owed. I looked at the other two at the table with some confusion and asked if everything looked right to them. Theirs were for the proper amounts. It took a second, but two of us realized as we added up the amounts, the three receipts added up to the entire bill. What had happened to the cash? We were very confused.
Our friends had been waiting in the car for a couple minutes now, the clock was ticking. Where was the waitress? We needed to clarify what was going on and figure out this discrepancy. Looking around we couldn't see her. Oh, there she is, wave her down! What? She's not looking this way. Here she comes again, and once again she never looks this way or makes eye contact. One of the others at the table gets up to look for her. It takes a couple minutes but he finds her. They talk for a minute and when he comes back to the table he says, "She thought the cash was hers." We just looked at each other completely dumbfounded. "She thought that was her tip?" I asked. My friend just looked at me and nodded. He then asked if we should wait to rerun cards or could I work with just taking the cash, writing in a tip, and going. We were already 15 minutes late. I took the cash, quickly put a 15% tip out of habit and left.
We thought about finding a manager and talking to them, but we were so relieved to be leaving and we were already so late we didn't. As we talked in the car I thought out loud that she had thought the cash was her tip. She had actually believed for some reason beyond anything we could imagine that for some reason we just left a 50% tip on a bill of a little more than $90. She just assumed that she was that good. There are sadly not just a few times I have had this poor of service.
As we talked in the car about how none of us could fathom how even the person giving that service could come to think that it deserved a 50% tip. Not only that, but we couldn't figure out how someone might not think to ask for clarification then to see if it really was a tip. Our waitress had just surmised that she was worth it, that she was entitled to a huge tip. Even now I can't understand how someone can believe that when there is no merit.
As I understand it a tip is a gratuity. In general, at least where I live, tips tend to range from 15% to 20% for decent to great service. The can be more or less, but those tend to be extreme circumstances of note. One might think then that if you received a tip of 50% you would think to yourself, "Wow, did I do really great service above and beyond the norm?" Apparently, you just assume your just that good. And assumption of entitlement.
As these thoughts began percolating and we discussed this matter on the drive back to work I began to feel it. I couldn't avoid it. I felt mortified. Once again I helped reinforce exactly what I had a problem with, what we had a problem with. I was not part of the solution, and thus, I was part of the problem. I spoke to no manager, I didn't even speak to the waitress about the problem, I just used the excuse of being in a rush and let it slide.
And with that we arrived 45 minutes late back to work. At least the cheesecake was unspoiled by the experience.
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