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This one is going to get salty. It’s a subject I am especially passionate about. Many times, as I write these, I am able to hide my emotions. As you have seen, I have shown substantial restraint in recent posts. Sure, I called Palin a trailer park media whore with no noticeable attributes except a hot ass and a rockin’ set of hooters. But, that was poignant and, well, correct.
I’m going to spill it now. Motherfucker. Son of a bitch. Shit. Sophomoric? Probably. Necessary? Ithink so. I don’t want any complaints from here on out. There will be a whole lot of “fuck bombs” on this one. I’m sorry, I know that offends Liz…long story (read the comments). You all are lucky I made it this far on this subject. This one has been building up. Years of frustration will likely explode into what can only be described as an orgasmic rant.
You sons of bitches. You have dicked me and the American public out of millions (I know that dicked is not a word, Microsoft Office). I’m speaking of you “service workers”. Let’s be honest, for a lot of you “service worker” is a significant stretch. Let me get to it.
Why the fuck do I have to overpay my bill in the form of an undeserved tip, every time you get off your lazy, fat asses to perform even the most miniscule of tasks? Which tasks? The ones I JUST FUCKING PAID FOR in the form of my GODDAMN BILL!!
I came to your establishment. Before I got there, the people at corporate decided how much to charge me. That price was based on a number of factors, one of which was the correct amount to charge me to cover the cost of providing me you to complete that service. They have determined how to attract the lowest level employee that I would find acceptable to perform this service and, well, they hired you. When I came into your establishment, I made a purchase. You completed the steps to fill my order. I paid my bill. At the end of your pay period, your corporate office will pay you. Do you understand the process?
Oh, really? You understand? Really? I don’t believe you. You know why I don’t believe you? BECAUSE THERE IS A FUCKING TIP JAR RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME WITH TWO WELL PLACED DOLLARS TO TRY AND SHAME ME INTO PAYING YOU MORE FOR THE SERVICE THAN THE DECISION MAKERS IN THIS TRANSACTION HAVE ALREADY DETERMINED IS FAIR!! Furthermore, I thought I was going to get out of overpaying you by giving you a card….ohh…nope…lookey there!...a line conveniently placed to add a tip. So, sandwich maker at Jimmy John’s, how much more do you want? Fuck this shit.
I am sick and fucking tired of overpaying you panhandling bastards for doing the job you’re being paid to perform. Fuck you guys. You guys can eat a dick. I don’t give two shits that you have kids…so do I. I don’t care that you poorly performed in life and are now schlepping shitburgers at the local Turk and Jerk. Get a fucking degree. Why do I have to pay you more because you suck at life?
This country has gone apeshit with these “tip opportunities”. Let’s remember something: waiters and waitresses earn tips as a significant part of their salary. They earn SUBSTANTIALLY less per hour than your typical “service worker”. You earn minimum wage. Waiters do not. They earn less, because it is understood that people will pay them in the form of tips based on their level of service. But, you can’t have it both ways.
You can’t earn minimum wage AND earn tips for menial work. One or the other. Pick a lane dickbreath. I love pay for performance. I think all of you should make $3.00 per hour and then make it up in tips. But, the corporate guys will drop my price to reflect that I am now covering your salary. If you work for me, you better learn to dance. I’ll pay you well, but you better put a smile on that face. You better provide the happy ending. You better make Daddy feel like a real man. Let’s see you grab those ankles. Wider. Wider. Yeah, that’s right!
I’m good with that, when do you want to start. Oh…you don’t want to earn the pay do you? You want me to give you some shit. Where’s your sign? Where’s your sob story? This isn’t a highway overpass.
Let’s go over some especially douchey culprits:
Jimmy John’s Gourmet Sandwich employee. Are you fucking joking? You guys are the biggest asshole restaurant workers in the industry! Every time I walk in this place I feel like you feel that you just did me a huge favor by slapping some turkey on a hoagie bun. The only reason I tip you sometimes, is because I feel like half of you are likely criminals and I am scared you will steal my credit card number if I tick you off. I mean, if I have one more Jimmy John’s asshole nonchalantly pound in my order and then ignore me as he jibber jabbers with his pals, I am going to take my hoagie and give ‘em the high hard one! Could you guys be less service oriented? It’s like they train you to be derelicts and assholes. The whole corporate culture seems to have been developed around the belief that your customers are nuisances. Ohh…super!...a tip line on my credit card receipt.
Starbucks employee. Come on. Let’s cut the shit, hippie. You just poured me a “cup of coffee”. Yeah, I know, you a “barista”. That’s awesome. Congratulations. You know what you just did, fancy pants? You just got me a “cup of coffee”. Right, it was $17. It was a “cup of coffee”. Yeah, yeah…I get it….you “served” me a mocha-double-floopitini-with a slice of flooglehorns. You know what else you did? You just got me a cup of fucking coffee. You made $10 an hour serving coffee. Your company also gives you stock options and FULL fucking medical coverage for serving coffee a minimum of 20 hours per week! I don’t even have full medical coverage and you only work part-time! Get the fuck over yourselves. You serve coffee and get compensated like a mid level executive. Count your blessings barista bitches! The next time I pay you eight times the normal cost for a cup of coffee and further finance your insane fringe benefit package, how about you strap on your knee pads and pucker up. Or at least, for the love of God, could you shower?
Chinese food service guy. Don’t you own the restaurant? I mean, you came up with the prices, right? You realize I just repeated my order eight times before you screamed it back to your pals in Cantonese, right? You know I don’t even know if I got Kung Pao Chicken or Ho Chi Minh Pitbull (although I suspect the latter)? You know I don’t appreciate that the stir fry guy keeps giggling as he prepares my Pitbull, right? You know this is the dirtiest kitchen in the suburbs…you know that…the board of health told you last week…and, well, the week before. No offense, but if you are going to overcharge me….errrrrr….request a tip, could you at least kill that roach over there?
Casino dealers. You work for the biggest bloodsuckers in the country. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some Blackjack and Poker. But, unless I am trying to impress someone or am completely, insanely, stupid drunk (either of which is entirely possible), why would I give you money? Your employers almost rob people to build opulent monstrosities that entice even more schmucks to drop money they don’t have to purchase a lottery ticket for which there isn’t even a drawing. You are the deputies that administer the torture. You bring in thousands an hour to your employer. How about you go ask for a raise “Skippy” from Albuquerque?
Doormen. Unless you are knowledgeable about the area’s best hookers I see no reason to tip you. Leave the door closed. I’m not a princess, I can open it.
Taxi guy that doesn’t have change. Bullshit – do you really think this move is fresh?
Fat, ugly bartender girl with the bitchy attitude and high prices. HA! You have way too much going on here. Back it up (turn on your truck back up beeper if a person your size is required to do so by local law). You want $15 for my wife’s Long Island Iced Tea…okay (it is probably a good investment considering what I have in mind later). You have a bad attitude…expected. A little junk in the trunk? It is Indiana, I guess. But, what the fuck is that growing on your eyelid? Strike four. The bourbon is good, but that thing is atrocious. Hey, on second thought, if I give you this shiny nickel, will you go pay a rat in the alley to gnaw that thing off your head on your next break? In the meantime, send your co-worker “Miss Perky Tits” down here to roll her eyes at me while she gets me a drink…I’ll pay extra for that.
Ugly girl at the strip club wandering around the showroom ASKING for tips. I had the opportunity to tip you while you were on stage. We all did. We chose not to. We were fine with leaving it at this. We were trying to be courteous. Honestly, they were trying to be courteous. I am trying to forget what I just saw. That was brutal. If I were to give you a dollar for getting naked, it would send the wrong message. You would believe that the epileptic seizure that you called a striptease was pleasant. I know you don’t understand this, but in a way, I am trying to help. Consider me a Samaritan…a good one. You need to find something else. The dream is over. The effort was noble. However, you don’t have what it takes kid. It’s okay. First, I can see your rib cage. This place has a great $1.99 Prime Rib on Thursdays…I suggest you check it out. Second, Jesus! What’s that smell? Next, I’m pretty sure you are on meth, as is evidenced by that uneasy twitch you have. Finally, nothing says sexy like torn faded panties…I’m not that drunk! Besides, I only came in this skank convention to feel better about myself. And, more than anything, when you asked me for a tip, it was sort of sad…but empowering. Most of the other strippers are so bitchy and uppity. It’s kind of nice to turn the tables and tell you to take a hike after your demeaning and desperate cry for my attention. That’s right! That’s how Daddy rolls.
Here’s the deal a-holes: you haven’t earned a tip. You don’t deserve a tip. You were already paid for your service. I already fucking paid you…do you understand? My price included your eye rolling, your self righteous behavior, your shit service, your embarrassment, your funny little fucking hat, your huffing, your puffing, all of it. All that shit was included in my price. There is no need for the jar. I am not tipping you.
Memo to managers trying to decide whether to put a tip line on your receipts: “Don’t do it”. Unless you are a restaurant with waiters and waitresses that do more than make sandwiches or pour coffee. It’s not worth it. I will stop coming here. I am not alone. Others will avoid you, too. I promise. People will hate you. It’s fast food. It’s coffee. It’s not the Ritz.
A very astute young man mentioned this to me while I was preparing this piece: “when you get bad service, you should put a negative number on the tip line and then subtract it from the total”. Think about it. The line at the bottom of the receipt is a total line. We learned that in second grade (you will likely need to provide this instruction to your service provider). By MATHEMATICAL LAW, they have to honor this. They have to! Math is WAY bigger than Jimmy John’s. They can’t not accept mathematical law! $10 + -3 = $7 every day of the week, Cowboy!
I am sorry to those of you that dislike my “fuck bombs”. Liz…my condolences. I hate being negative. But, this is a subject that requires us all to make sacrifices and breach our comfort zones. You need to be on my side. We need to stand together. We need to fight the tyranny that these bastards are trying to invoke. Power to the fucking people. Be strong. Be reasonable.
-B. Iconic
