Forgive me if I’m wrong, but when a couple goes out to eat, is it not the man who takes up the check most of the time? I’d give it a 9:1 ratio of dudes paying to dudettes paying. Obviously, the woman I served last night didn’t have her little (yes, very little) head wrapped around that little fact as she complained ad nauseum that I didn’t give her the check.

Her: “Ummm…why did you just assume that HE was going to pay for it?”
Me: “Because guys usually pick up the check.”
Her: “EXCUSE me?”
Me: “Ummm…”
Her: “That is soooo sexist!”
Me: “Well, here you go.”

And then I handed her the check. I went to go pick it up a little bit later, ran the credit card through and put the bill back on the table in front of her. Not a minute later, I saw the GUY signing his name because it was HIS credit card.

What a douchette. She bitches me out over principle and then doesn’t even follow through with it. At least the guy was cool. He gave me a 50% tip and a “Sorry my girlfriend’s a b****” on the bottom of the receipt. So, if anyone knows of a Benjamin B. Rossain with a high-strung-for-absolutely-no-reason girlfriend, give him a high-five for me because he 1) has her for a girlfriend and 2) frickin’ deserves it.

Before I begin, did I just put “black people” and “whipping boy” in the same sentence?

Anyway, I’m just wondering why when someone says “bad tippers” their thoughts immediately turn to “black person”? Is it because there’s simply more blacks than in any other restaurant-going minority, thereby more examples to reinforce this stereotype? Is it because whites make up the largest ethnic group in America that it’s easier to compare blacks and whites? Is it something deeper? I really don’t know.

I know that in most of my articles (especially the one where I called out every demographic’s frickin’ downfall) I’ve tried to paint a fair picture. I call out old people who can’t tip. I call out rednecks who can’t tip. I call out finicky asians who can’t tip. I call out teenagers who can’t tip.

But I say the same thing about blacks and the debate gets heated.

I’ve read around and whenever I post an article that involves a black family not tipping well, it’s lauded and supported with emails and comments as “truth”. But when I rail a family of rednecks, bros who listen to way too much Dave Matthews, or teenagers who wouldn’t know good music if it came up and sang “Golden Slumbers” right in front of their face, it gets quiet. No comments. No discussions. No debate. No nothing.

What is it with us? Do we so crave the black vs. white thing so much that we will ignore idiot-bashing until it’s about black people?

I’ve written almost five times as many articles poking fun at white yuppie soccer moms who wouldn’t know how to fill their Hummer with gas if their life depended on it and yet I have TEN TIMES as many comments on the articles bashing idiots who are black.

I even called a 14-year-old girl hot. Two comments. Accidental pedophilia, people!

The title of the website is I Serve Idiots. Not “I Serve Black Idiots”. Not “Black People Tip Terribly”. This is a place where we can come together as a community of people who hate idiots and…well…hate idiots. Regardless of class, gender, race, economic level, etc…

Please, guys. Tell me what’s up. Help me gain some perspective. I’m begging y’all.

Dear Mr. Red-Headed Bucktooth Man,

Thank you so much for banging on our front door as loudly as you could twenty minutes before we even started serving. I know it’s my fault that I didn’t explain this before, but those little numbers next to the days of the week outside…well, those are to indicate to potential customers what times we open and what times we close. I’m sure most people aren’t familiar with this concept, so let me explain: The “4:30pm” just to the right of the word “Monday” means we open at 4:30pm. I apologize profusely as I see it upset you enough to almost knock my teeth out when I started to open the door to let you in out of the cold at 4:10pm.

Thank you so much for asking to sit at the farthest possible table from the sushi bar, kitchen and servers hallway. I’m glad you sat next to the bar as it allowed you to sample any beverage of your liking. Unfortunately we didn’t have what you wanted. While I know that most restaurants carry Pabst Blue Ribbon in a can, we, unfortunately, do not. I’m sorry this made you so sad you were forced to act younger than the child sitting directly to your right.

And while we’re on the subject of your children, thank you so much for not teaching him how not to throw his food, silverware, cup and…oh, yes…our candle holders on the ground. I was, in reality, incredibly bored without much else to do.

Thank you so much for your snaggletooth of a wife complaining to the manager that we did not serve bread. I know it’s complimentary in most Asian restaurants to offer bread, but we just didn’t get our shipment in from Osaka this week.

Thank you so much for asking me to split the check between you and your wife and then complaining when one check was a penny more. I know it’s my fault that odd numbers don’t divide evenly. I’ll get right on lobbying Congress to have the Federal Reserve start issuing half-cent coins. That way, you can save that penny for a very rainy day.

And most of all, thank you for your 4% tip. You know, the restaurant standard is 2%, but you…you just went so far beyond what is merely average and did something above average. I get a tear in my eye just thinking about it. I wish I could see you on the street and buy you a Coke or something.

Kisses,
Ryan

A few weeks ago, a couple came in that wouldn’t stop arguing. But it was past that normal “we’re arguing now, but we’ll be better in the morning”. These guys were clearly on the rocks.

Thankfully, they wanted to sit far from any of my other table, thereby distracting them from their table. Maybe they thought this is what they needed: a quiet night out to get back to the roots of their relationship. Perhaps this dimly-lit corner would rekindle something.

They argued their way through drink orders as the food was being cooked. As I dropped off the dinners they both ordered, there was something in the girl’s eyes that wasn’t in the man’s. It looked as though she wanted to be here in this restaurant and he very much did not. She held onto her faith and hope in what they had and he looked as if he had let go of that history long ago.

Pity, really. She seemed like a nice girl. Cute too.

When I went back to clear their plates, I noticed that the guy wasn’t there anymore. The girl was just staring out the window. I waited a few more minutes to drop off the check, but he still wasn’t there.

I looked at the reservation log and noticed that a couple of big tables were set to arrive in a few minutes. I knew this would be the only time for the next couple of hours I’d have a break, so I went to use the bathroom.

As I opened the door, I was greeted by a sound I’d never heard in our restaurant’s bathroom. (And trust me, that’s saying something). Here was the man I was serving just minutes before, sitting in a stall, weeping ever-so-softly like a small child.

Me: “Hey man. Is everything okay?”
Him: (Startled) “Uh! Yea, yea yea.”
Me: “Are you sure? Do you need anything?”
Him: “No. I’m good. Thanks.”

He walked out of the restroom minutes later and if I hadn’t heard him crying just a short while ago, I wouldn’t have ever guessed it. He came confidently over to me, asked for the check, left a 25% tip and walked out with his girlfriend (most likely ex-girlfriend by now…this was weeks ago).

Here I was thinking of this table so trivially minutes ago. Now they are two people. One is a girl that made an impression so heavily on the other, a guy, that he was forced to cry in a public restroom.

I guess that’s the biggest difference between men and women. Women will let their emotions just shine through with someone as random as a waiter. A man will wait until he is alone. It’s there, away from peering eyes and judgmental stares, that he can strip himself to his most vulnerable.

I suppose they do it that way on Mars too.

It really is a shame too. Far too many men and women cannot connect emotionally, thereby eroding what could be a really decent relationship.

Men are far too distant and out-of-touch with how they feel. Men don’t communicate to women just how often they care for them. It’s only in places like restaurant bathrooms that their emotions can come to the surface and by then they’ve been suppressed so far that the woman thinks they don’t even care anymore. A lot of times this isn’t even the case.

On the flip side, a woman may be far too over-zealous in her expectation of how a man should be affirming their love. A man’s not going to be nearly as lovey-dovey and emotional as a woman is and the bar many women set is, many times, unrealistic.

It’s both of our faults. Men need to step up to the plate more frequently and with more confidence and women need to stop throwing the heat. Give us a change-up every once in a while and let us hit it out of the park.

To Greer. Happy Valentine’s Day. Thanks for throwing me change-ups every once in a while. I’ve never been happier.