Uncharacteristic

So, I originally wasn't going to write this story, mostly because it's not really the me that I particularly want  to be. But...then I was thinking, what about when I'm old and senile and I can't even rememberthis story. I'm going to want it written down at that point. So here goes:

Let me first enlighten you on my mood for the day. I had inventory the previous night in one of my stores. I had gone in at 6:00 that morning to finish up inventory, and I was very angry with one of my cashiers regarding the inventory. So angry that I didn't eat anything all day. Then just before going to the restaurant, I had three sandwich pickle slices and a teeny tiny bowl of macaroni. So. yeah. angry.

On New Year's Eve, Martin and I went out to dinner at a restaurant in Rochester with 13 of Martin's friends from high school and their wives/girlfriends to celebrate Martin's friend Jared serving 4 years in the Marines and now moving on to other things. It was a very nice idea and a very nice dinner. We all sit down at a table upstairs and the waiter takes our drink orders. 30 minutes later, he finally shows up with our drinks. Then he takes our dinner orders. When he finally returns with the meals, he has succeeded in not filling multiple orders effectively. You know, giving people the wrong dressing for their salad, bringing a burger with no fries on the side, stupid stuff. Then, it comes time to pay the bill. When Jared's fiance, Melissa, had made the reservations she had asked that it be seperate checks for each couple. No. big. deal. Restaurants do it all the time. So when this guy was taking our orders, he was juggling approximately 36 different pieces of papers trying to keep 6 seperate orders. But... alas, that wasn't enough. The waiter returns with one huge check and explains to us that he was confused as to who ordered what and if we could please write a number down next to our meals and drinks he would compile seperate receipts for us. We dutifully go around the table and do this for our struggling waiter who takes the massive bill and recedes downstairs to split it up. He returns with our bills and we pass them around to the appropriate couple. Martin and I have each ordered a meal - Martin a burger and me a chicken speedie and we got two pictures of beer (neither of us were driving that night!). Our bill came to a total of $53 and there is an additional $10 tip already built into the bill. When I saw the ten dollar tip, I was just furious. Let me clarify. I have absolutely no problem tipping. I understand that waitresses make crap for money and they rely on tips for the majority of their income. But, I was also under the impression that a tip is a reward for good service, not a guarantee after shitty service. I merely decide that I am not going to pay that tip, so I stand up, take my bill, and start to move downstairs to find a hostess to remove the tip on my bill so I can decide the appropriate tip. As I start moving downstairs though, I am stopped by our waiter who asks me if he can help me with anything. I quickly explain that I am just going downstairs to pay. In some sort of last ditch effort to actually do his job the waiter lets me know that he can take it for me. Shoot. What do I do now?

Well I actually wanted to go talk to someone about getting this tip removed because the service really wasn't very good, I hear the words escape my mouth and immediately feel a little badly about saying this to the waiter, but he had to know.

I'll see what I can do, replies the waiter without a moment's hesitation. It was like it didn't even sink in that  he was our waiter and directly responsible for the service that wasn't very good.

Anyway, he removed my built-in tip and we went on our merry way.