Archive for the ‘Gratitude’ Category

Pink Will Always Get Bad Service


I just read an article about how the British are bad tippers. The best part was the ensuing commentary, much of it from those I can only assume have never waited tables. Suggestions ran from changing the way American restaurants do business to getting a better paying job.  And this all for a waiter in the New York restaurant business. I wonder what those same commentators would say if they were dealing with someone who worked in restaurants that were not top scale?  Where taking home $30 a night was a good night? I’m guessing they would say the same thing.

Ah yes, like most who have attended college I have done my share of restaurant work. Everything from bussing tables/ washing dishes to bartending and floor management. In upscale and ‘family dining’ restaurants. I have to say, no matter where one works, it’s a shitty job.

And it’s shitty because of the customers and the management. The customers want to believe that they are superior to the person trying to accommodate their often ludicrous requests. The management wants one to work like a dog and be grateful they allow you to make money in their restaurant. The word raise is not in their vocabulary. When waitstaff asks management for a raise they inevitably get the same response “Be a better server.” Balls. In some places one can be the top earner and still not make a living wage. It’s arrogant for a customer to make assumptions about the staff. Not every server works in a five star restaurant. Nor is every server a college student who deserves to make less money because they are in school.

A server is a person who works hard for little money. After tipping out 10% to both the bartenders and bussers, and accounting for a standard 15% Federal tax, what does the thirty dollar a night server take home? About 15-17 dollars. Times five days a week, comes to about 75-85 dollars a week. Oooh yeah, they’re living high on the hog!! Oh wait, plus the 2.85 they make an hour here in Michigan, which is automatically taxed, so that’s– Oh hell I don’t know, but not a enough to live on I can tell you. Let alone raise children with.

Nothing gets my fur in a bunch faster than those who take exception to tipping waitstaff.  It’s the superiority of the customer who seems to feel that your service is worth shit. That as a person you are so far beneath them on the social scale that they can ignore your work. And it is work. It’s much more than carrying plates. Servers work very hard to make things look easy to the customer. That’s part of the job. They don’t have a PDF to keep track of the seven to ten tables they have. They rely on memory. They can’t control mistakes made in the kitchen but they are certainly responsible for it. They are not to blame for arbitrary changes management makes from one day to the next but they have to commiserate and ego stroke the ranting of customers who are upset by those changes. And none of this includes the work they do before and after they begin waiting on tables.

I’m not saying every server is stellar. I once refused to tip when the service was very poor. But I then I let the server know why they got nothing. And when they got upset, I told them that waiting tables is a skill, not a gimmee.

Here in the U.S. one should tip 15-20% of the bill. Period. And that is for standard service, not for exceptional service. Exceptional service should be rewarded with a higher tip. Try to remember this. If you tip well, waitstaff will be all over you next time you come in. They will actually squabble in the backroom over who gets the honor of waiting on you.

All servers have great memories. They know who the bad tippers are and they always pass them off to the worst waitstaff. So, if you are constantly getting a different lousy server at a local restaurant, it’s probably because you are a crap tipper and the service will always be rotten, for you. And you alone.

Servers might be poor, but they’re not stupid.



Three in One


Dear Vice President Dick Cheney,

Thank you for your kind words about the soldiers serving in Iraq on the news that we have now lost 4,000 men and women. You are absolutely right, they did volunteer. So did you. And the only action you’ve seen so far is shooting your friend in the face while hunting maimed birds. Perhaps a three year tour of that sandy hell hole would give your tired old ass a wake up call. Just a thought.



Dear President Bush,

Please stop talking. Every time you open your mouth something incomprehensible and slightly scary comes out. We the People of the United States would like you to convert to Buddhism and take a vow of silence for the next 10 months.



Dear Pat Buchanan ,

Black people across America would like to thank you for really getting to the root of the civil rights movement. With comments like your recent ones stating how grateful they should be that White landowners rounded them up like cattle and shipped them across the ocean like abused sardines, I’m sure there won’t be any backlash.

Are you stuck in a time warp, you cretin?

Honestly, why do these things just creep out of your mouth ? African- Americans are not the only group of people on welfare, using Pell grants or benefiting from state run programs to help the poor. Like Ice Pops, poor people come in all flavors and none of them are grateful to be poor. In fact, they are a bit pissed off. And waiting outside your fancy office. With torches and pitch forks.

Gee, I wonder what they want?



Wordy Goodness


I am not always about the rants. Sometimes I find something good on the internet. Like today, I found a site everyone should visit.

It’s called Free Rice. It’s a vocabulary word builder that donates 20 grains of rice to the U.N. for distribution in starving nations for every word you correctly identify. So that’s cool. You have fun and the world gets a little brighter. Find the link below and get playing.




Le Marchand De La Mort


It’s that time of year again. The leaves are peacefully jumping to their deaths and the thermometer is gently falling to just under eighties degrees here in the North. With the smell of apples rotting in the air it’s hard to believe but the time has come for the most ironic set of prizes ever invented.

The Nobel Prizes are up for announcement this week. Don’t get me wrong I love the Nobel Prizes. They are a testament to the incredible irony of the human spirit.

Arthur Nobel through hard work and a few mishaps, one which resulted in the death of his brother, invented dynamite. On the Nobel website they talk about how it greatly reduced the cost of mining and industrial manufacturing. Not to mention the population problem. Over the years governments and mad scientists have greatly improved upon Nobels’ original formula eventually culminating in Atomic bombs. No messy gel with that one.

Without Nobels’ invention, how would we ever be able to band together when 3500 South African gold miners get trapped? There would be no gold, people. And without gold, we’d have no gold standard. And without the gold standard, we’d have no money. And without money we’d have nothing to fight over. Or give to the prize winners.

But I over simplify. The point is Monsieur Nobel made a crap load of money inventing a product that has been seriously misused. Like the manufacturers of Oxycontin. And on his death bed he said to himself, “How can I rectify this situation? Ah, Oui, I shall set up a Foundation that gives money to random people a select group of individuals think are the best of the best in their field causing jealousy and backbiting among otherwise rational and intelligent human beings. And perhaps someday the money will go to an overfed, loudmouthed Irish dwarf. That will be good.” Then he died.

The Nobel Peace Prize is the pinnacle of Irony and Satire. A man who invented new and better ways to commit war left a foundation that gives money, one of the driving forces of war, to those who pursue the elusive ideal of Peace.

Brings a whole new meaning to Orwell’s statement “War is Peace”. According to the Nobel foundation that not just a slogan, it’s a reality.

I think they should just get a Sponge Bob inspired congratulatory handshake. But that’s just me.

The point of this rant is that there exists in the world too many Foundations, Governments and NGO’s handing out medals, awards and honors. So much so that the whole idea of honoring the best of our brethren has lost a little meaning. No, a lot of  meaning. No one even pays attention to prizes like the Nobels anymore. I blame the Oscars. And kidding aside, back in the day achieving the Nobel was huge. It came at the end of a lifetime of work and sacrifice. It was the biggest, stickiest, sweetest rose on the birthday cake of life.

Now, well let’s just say this:

How many people know, without leaving my post to look it up, who won last year’s Peace Prize? And no, it’ wasn’t Bono.



Or So I Thought


So I thought Substitute Teaching was the way to go as I am in school. I could utilize my aforementioned talents as a teacher while attending class. Seemed like a good plan.

Until they asked me to teach Kindergarten.

Students: 1. Teacher:0

I went home with glue in my hair and a new appreciation for Kindergarten teachers.

Kindergartners are savages with art supplies and questions. And they will maim you with these weapons given the chance. I’d rather teach lions to dance than ever go back to a Kindergarten class.

If you teach little ones I applaud you.



Say It Ain’t So


Sad news today. Or rather yesterday.

Madeline l”Engle has died at the age of 88.

A Wrinkle In Time  is one of the best books ever written. It is a timeless tale that has garnered readers from all walks of life and all ages.

She will be missed.



Your Song


For the past nine thousand years I have been learning to play the guitar. I suck something awful. I think it’s because my right hand is retarded but I’ve never actually had it tested so it’s all speculation. At any rate, having finally mastered the stringed mysteries of Row, Row, Row Your Boat I have decided to try my hand at actual songwriting. That’s right, I’ve written new lyrics and I hope it’s song you’ll really enjoy. This one goes out to that someone special: My Right Wing brother with whom I have shared so many great holiday fist fights. Love you man, and Bill O’Reilly is the Anti-Christ. See you at Thanksgiving.

Rove, Rove, Rove you’re out

We’re so glad you’re gone

We will sing and we will dance and

give a mighty shout

Rove, Rove, Rove you lout

You’re a big fat liar

We all know that you told the Prez

Which Attorneys to fire

Rove, Rove, Rove don’t pout

We sure you’ll find a job

All the skills that you posses

are valued by the Mob

Rove, Rove, Rove no doubt

you’re an evil man

Now if we could just remove

the rest of your twisted clan


Don’t forget the Hey at the end when your singing it under your breath.

If you’d like to try your hand at a stanza for this fantastic work of mine feel free to leave it in the comments.