Dissapointment
Sometimes I wish the world was perfect...
And I used to act like it was. That is called naivete'.
Here is an example. Last night I was waiting on this jolly old man who had taken his whole family out to dinner. Old men, especially jolly ones, seem to relish being able to display their generosity and use their long worked-for savings. This includes taking particular pleasure in privately tipping the waitress.
There are two problems with this. One is that older gents often still subscribe to a %10 tipping policy, which, though to them generous, just isn't the going rate. Another is that I spent 2 1/2 hours completely devoted to this table; they were taking their time and the restaurant was slow, so I was completely devoted to them and basically only still at work because of them.
I couldn't take the risk, after all that work, of feeling, or being, shortchanged. So I added what's called "automatic gratuity," an 18% tip which is perfectly legal for parties of eight and is spelled out (in fine print) right there on the menu.
The problem with adding gratuity is that I am taking away this old man's pleasure in tipping me. When I handed him the credit card slip that detailed the pre-added tip, he studied it confusedly. I wish the world was perfect. For some reason, lately, I am beginning to accept that it is not. Because of that, I have a plan of how to deal with the inevitable fact that not everyone is, or knows how to be, a good tipper--an insurance policy.
It sounds so cynical. But I think it's better to not be surprised, and to have an action plan for when people disappoint you, then to always be dismayed, flustered and flabbergasted when it happens, with no way to handle it, because oh my, it was such a shock.
In the end, I didn't take away this old man's pleasure, as he did tip me on top of the added gratuity. Sometimes I am pleasantly surprised, which is an antidote to my cynicism. But I'll venture to maintain and develop my action plans for what is inevitable--that people will dissapoint you.
And I used to act like it was. That is called naivete'.
Here is an example. Last night I was waiting on this jolly old man who had taken his whole family out to dinner. Old men, especially jolly ones, seem to relish being able to display their generosity and use their long worked-for savings. This includes taking particular pleasure in privately tipping the waitress.
There are two problems with this. One is that older gents often still subscribe to a %10 tipping policy, which, though to them generous, just isn't the going rate. Another is that I spent 2 1/2 hours completely devoted to this table; they were taking their time and the restaurant was slow, so I was completely devoted to them and basically only still at work because of them.
I couldn't take the risk, after all that work, of feeling, or being, shortchanged. So I added what's called "automatic gratuity," an 18% tip which is perfectly legal for parties of eight and is spelled out (in fine print) right there on the menu.
The problem with adding gratuity is that I am taking away this old man's pleasure in tipping me. When I handed him the credit card slip that detailed the pre-added tip, he studied it confusedly. I wish the world was perfect. For some reason, lately, I am beginning to accept that it is not. Because of that, I have a plan of how to deal with the inevitable fact that not everyone is, or knows how to be, a good tipper--an insurance policy.
It sounds so cynical. But I think it's better to not be surprised, and to have an action plan for when people disappoint you, then to always be dismayed, flustered and flabbergasted when it happens, with no way to handle it, because oh my, it was such a shock.
In the end, I didn't take away this old man's pleasure, as he did tip me on top of the added gratuity. Sometimes I am pleasantly surprised, which is an antidote to my cynicism. But I'll venture to maintain and develop my action plans for what is inevitable--that people will dissapoint you.
posted by Denise @ 11:08 AM
4 comments
