Look, if you ask me to sign something that says the government shouldn't do that, I'll sign it, put it to a vote, I'll vote for it, but what I won't do is play ball.(PID:200412292) Source
posted by April alias *April* on Friday 28th of July 2006 05:36:21 PM
I'm very sorry the government taxes their tips, that's fucked up. That ain't my fault. It would seem to me that waitresses are one of the many groups the government fucks in the ass on a regular basis. Look, if you ask me to sign something that says the government shouldn't do that, I'll sign it, put it to a vote, I'll vote for it, but what I won't do is play ball. And as for this non-college bullshit I got two words for that: learn to fuckin' type, 'cause if you're expecting me to help out with the rent you're in for a big fuckin' surprise. Odd, really, that I love this scene so much considering that I'm an overly indulgent tipper. I was a waitress for maybe three weeks when I was 17. I lied and said I was 22 so I could serve liquor and make better tips. I was nearly a junior in college, so it was completely plausible. I have never been so tired as I was in those three weeks. Not even when I worked at the bank the next year running statements, working all night most nights and then going to class at 8 a.m. the next morning and taking 21 credit hours that semester. I was a horrible waitress, but I was nice. I chatted with kids. I complimented everyone. I spilled ice water in a guy's lap right before he was going to take formal pictures for his engagement- and they tipped me $20 because apparently the woman was the one that inevitably got spilled on nearly every time they went out. I had a guy scream at me becuase his steak was undercooked - so it was sent back twice. The kitchen got pissed and charred it the third time. He was furious and causing a scene. I apologized. He yelled at me for apologizing. I broke down in tears at the table. His wife tipped me $50 for putting up with his crap. I had little old ladies that would tip $1 or $2 on a $70 meal. But it all worked out in the end. I had people who inevitably would come into the restaurant (a German place in Fredericksburg, Texas) five minutes before closing time and then request stuff that wasn't on the menu. I worked double and triple shifts because everyone else I worked with would come and go as they pleased. Worst day of all was July 4th when we were one of only a handful of restaurants near Luckenbach, Texas - home of Willie Nelson's famed Independence Day picnic. Thousands upon thousands of drunk bikers crammed into the restaurant. I went home after being on my feet for twenty hours and cried because my feet hurt so much and my hair reeked of sauerkraut. I was so horrible at it, and I hated it. But, I made enough money in those three weeks to easily coast through the rest of the summer. But I would never, ever do it again. No way. No how. Tip your waitstaff.
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