He walks up to the bar rattling confusing tale of digits. “I ordered the three Jager Blasters twenty minutes ago, and you gave me back one five and three ones, and I wanted to tip four dollars, but I gave you one ten and a twenty, so I should have five more dollars….” He’s got his next round of seven drinks waiting for him at the bar.
Natalie turns her attention to the guy, who’s still recounting a transaction long past, at least in bar time.
“I’m sorry, what’s the problem? Could you start again?” She’s a terribly sweet girl, not aggressive in the least.
“You gave me a five and three ones, when it should have been a ten and three ones, so you owe me five dollars. I wanted to tip you four dollars.” He stares expectantly.
She turns and checks the tip jar and till, not finding evidence of the slip-up, and he resumes his spray of numbers. About how much he was going to tip, and how much he’s owed.
“Do you have the still have bills?”
“No, that was a while ago. I just noticed now.” He’s getting more aggressive, alpha-male posturing and leaning across the bar, flipping his hand up in the air while he talks, projecting disdain. “So can you just comp me a drink?”
The change is subtle, but visible. You can see her expression change from trying to politely rectify the situation to having to dealing with an asshole customer.
“I’m sorry, I may have messed up, but I can’t just short my till or comp drinks to every person that asks. If you had shown me when I gave you your change, I’ve been more than happy to fix it. But there’s no indication I messed up.”
“Listen, I wanted to tip you four bucks. This isn’t the way to get good tips. I’m telling you that you gave me a five and three ones, when I should have had a ten and three ones. You messed up, so you should be the one to fix it. Why don’t you believe me? It’s your fault.”
“I’m not denying that I might have messed up, but you need to let me know when it happens, not twenty minutes later.” I can see the unspoken sentence in her eyes: maybe if you weren’t being such as ass about it….
“Listen, I’m not making this up. I work for tips also, sweetheart”
Natalie makes me proud, cutting him off with a curt “Don’t call me sweetheart; I’m not your sweetheart.” Good girl. You don’t need to take shit from this guy. If he really did work for tips, he would know she lost more than four dollars in tips wasting her time with him. Better to cut her losses and serve others, four bucks won’t make it up.
Here’s my take: she might have messed up, and he definitely messed up by not checking his change (or he’s trying to hustle her), but he’s the one that’s entitled the money and/or drinks? If you were going to leave tip, wouldn’t you have checked the money you were going to tip out of? And to top it off, you’re buying around $60 worth of drinks, and you’re concerned about $4?
We’re at some sort of uneven tie, deuce-ad-Natalie, and yet he’s demanding that he’s faultless, and that trust should be placed in him when he’s placed none in others? If the guy really was honest, and she really did fuck up, it’d be much more productive to let her know respectfully and suck up the loss, learning a lesson in the process – and he probably would’ve ended up with a comp part of his tab anyway for being reasonable about it.
As carries his round of seven drinks away, his friend walks up to order a glass of wine for herself. I hear him whisper in her ear: “Don’t tip her at all, she’s royal bitch.” So that’s ten drinks now without of tip? (At least ten, as they were here when I arrived 30 minutes ago.) Wouldn’t surprise me if you don’t get any more service tonight.
The tip on the single glass of wine from friend-of-A-hole? 33%.
I guess we know how much his friends believe him.