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.

I consider myself a reasonable man. That’s why when I bring out TWO plates of sushi for TWO customers and one of the customers asks for two plates, I get them two EXTRA plates. No questions asked, no funny looks.

But the other day I brought these two douches their two extra plates when the dad says, “Do you have any smaller plates?”

Me: “No, sorry. These are the only plates we have.”
Dude: “Are you serious?”
Me: “Yes. Why?”
Dude: “Well, my wife and I are REALLY in the mood for smaller plates…”

Here are some acceptable things people can (and should) get “in the mood” for:

1. A movie featuring jets and/or lasers
2. Star Wars
3. Chocolate anything
4. Teri Hatcher and/or pre-coked out Lindsay Lohan.
5. Music made between 1960 and 1979.

Here are some UN-FRICKIN’-ACCEPTABLE things people can and should get “in the mood” for:

1. Smaller plates.

Unless by “conspiracy” you mean “I, the customer, am dumb as shit.”

So this lady and her husband/boyfriend/random drunk hookup are at one of my tables and the lady is bitching about how the steak is “too chewy” when

1) she has eaten over half the steak,
2) she’s eating some as she says this and
3) she ordered it “medium rare”. It’s gonna be chewy, ma’am. Next time order your meat a little more cooked and it’ll be cool.

But then the bill comes and the dude takes one look at it and starts fuming:

Him: “Yea, waiter, the price on the bill for my dinner and the price on the menu are two dollars off.”
Me: “Oh, well…let me get a menu and we can clear this right up and I can get you your two dollars back.”

Let me just stop right there. For everyone that reads this website, this should be a punch in the mouth to anyone that says “Well, the only reason he deals with idiots is because he’s a crappy waiter.” Did you just read what I said to the guy? It’s 8:00pm on a Friday evening and I’m going to all this trouble for two dollars. Hell yea. Go me. Anyways:

Him: “No no no…don’t do…well…okay. Bring the menu.”
Me: (I bring the menu) “See, sir…you must have thought this said $16.95, but your Filet Mignon dinner is $18.95 just as it is on your bill.”
Him: “Go get another menu. I think mine was different.”
Me: “Ummm…sir…they’re all the same.”
Him: “Oh, I see what’s going on here. Whatever. Someone else will catch it and be more of an asshole than I was.”

No, sir. No one is else is going to “catch it” because there’s nothing to catch. Unless, of course, you’re talking about the obvious herpes on your lady-friend’s lip. Then yea, someone else is going to “catch it”.

Drunk Woman: “Can I have a to-go box for my fried rice?”
Me: “Sure.”

(After paying the bill)

Drunk Woman: “You know…I’m…I’m not really going to eat that rice. Can you throw it away for me at the bar?”
Me: “Yea, not a problem. Have a nice night.”

(After a few more minutes)

Drunk Woman: “On second though…can I…can I have that…uh…rice back?”
Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I already threw it away.”
Drunk Woman: “Well…is it on the top of the trash or did you…throw it…smush it down in there?”
Me: “Let me check.”

(I check)

Me: “It’s down in there.”
Drunk Woman: “Oh.” (turns to drunk boyfriend) “Think it’s still good?”
Drunk Boyfriend: “It is definitely time to go.”

I’d think a woman who went dumpster-diving would tip a lot worse than her. Goes to show you can’t always judge a book by its cover.