July 18th 2015

Today I am angry. I am not usually a very emotive person, I rarely get gleefully happy, or tearfully sad. I tend to hide any emotions behind a wall of thinly veiled sarcasm and insult based humour. I never let things get to me, I brush off most things and I don’t show any emotions at all really. I’m a pretty fun guy, as you can tell. But today I am angry. Today I am fucking furious.

When I write these daily posts I normally write them as if today’s post is the first one you’re reading. So I ignore any previously established context and just re-introduce it in a new post if necessary. So what you need to know for this post is that currently I work as a waiter for a restaurant. There. That’s the context.

If it weren’t for the fact that I earn pretty decent money from tips then I would not do the job. I won’t go as far to say that the job is hard, because it isn’t, or that the job is stressful, because I don’t feel stress (we’ve been over this) but I will say that there are far easier jobs I could be doing for £6.50 an hour. So for me earning tips is the reason that I do the job. There’s a bit more context.

Today I am angry because this (and I want to use a string of expletive adjectives here but my Nan reads this blog so I won’t) woman stole tips from me. And that is just not fucking okay. (sorry Nan) I took the payment for the table that I had been serving for the past hour and as I did that he put £4 on the adequately named tip tray, to which I said thank you. But I didn’t pick it up right away. I think if you pick it up right away then it looks rude, and desperate, I dunno why but I just think it’s more polite to wait until they leave to collect it. Except this time it wasn’t me that collected it. It was that (string-of-expletive-adjectives) woman that collected it. She walked over, picked up the adequately named tip tray along with a few glasses and walked to the bar area, completely unbeknownst to the fact that I was watching all of this, and returned to the table with an empty tip tray, then she picked up the rest of the glasses and cleaned the table.

Now unless she thought that the £4 was a tip for the person that cleaned the table, and not for the person that served it, then that is not fucking okay.

And because along with being a non-emotive individual I am also a non-confrontational individual, I didn’t say anything, i just slipped off to the office and told my boss what I’d seen.

Let the record show that I don’t give a shit about 4 quid. It could’ve been 40 pence or 40 quid, the numerical amount is not important, and I feel that I’ve made this pretty clear already, but THAT IS NOT FUCKING OKAY. The worst part is that this is not the first time it has happened, it’s just the first time I’ve seen it happen.

The previous times this has happened I just let it slide because I’ve always thought that if she is in the position in her life where she is a forty year old woman with two kids (yeah, I should’ve mentioned that before: SHE’S A FORTY YEAR OLD WOMAN WITH TWO KIDS) and needs to steal a couple of quid from someone with whom she works then she clearly needs the money more than I do. But this time I’d had enough, and I just told my manager, and then he asked if I wanted to go home early, and I wanted to go home early so I did. And he’s dealing with it. I’ve no idea what’s happening, I’d imagine she’ll just get a slap on the wrist and be told to give me 4 quid next time she sees me, but, like I said, she clearly needs it more than I do so the fucking desperate skank can keep it. (Sorry, some of those expletive adjectives slipped through my profanity filter) 

Until tomorrow, that is not okay.



3 thoughts on “Anger

  1. Sara J. says:

    As a customer, I’ve always thought it rude to leave a tip while the server is in view of the table, but now you have me rethinking the practice. I’d feel badly if a server didn’t get the money he/she earned because someone else came long and stole it.

    1. fillingmyblanks says:

      I’d rather your way too, because it’s pretty awkward when they put it down as I’m stood right there. I try not to mentally count the amount, too. Until they’ve left of course.

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