Contrary to how most people describe me I like to think of myself as a nice person. I’m good with children and smile at homeless people before spitting on them. I’ve worked enough shit jobs in my life(three) to know that working in the service industry generally sucks sweaty tiger balls and the only thing keeping most workers from waving their dicks at every customer is the custom in North America known as “tipping”. For all the Australians and Germans out there this is where a customer provides some money to the server in addition to the money being spent for the service. This practice dates back to ancient times where it was customary to pay your employees a sub-standard wage for work which you would never do yourself.
I ALWAYS tip. Note the emphasis on always, I’m using italics and CAPS just to show how motherfuckin’ serious I am about tipping. Tipping is a reflection of the person doing the tipping and not on the service. Tipping low for bad service just justifies the server’s belief that you’re a fucking cheapskate. If you can’t afford to tip then you can’t afford the service. Just shut up and do it because trying to rationalize your political stance regarding tipping only makes you look poor.
Now that I’ve preambled enough to scare off all but four of my readers I’ll get to the real story here. Last night I was feeling rather hungry and had the apartment to myself. Since I’ve been eating rather well lately I decided to just say fuck it and order myself a pizza. This is not something I do very often since I’m hella paranoid about what I eat and usually only eat what I make myself(fear of being poisoned, etc). To make it even more special I decided to order from my favourite pizza place that I never get to order from because my wife hates them.
So I place my order and patiently wait. They didn’t give me a total so I made a rough estimate and included what should have been at least a 15% tip and set the cash aside. After about 40 minutes or so I get the call from the lobby and buzz the delivery guy up. I immediately lock my dog up in her crate(because she will fuck up anyone who dares to knock at her door), grab the cash I set aside and get ready to open the door while trying to make it seem like I’m not salivating like a date-rapist at the thought of the food that is about to enter my belly. Dog barks, delivery guy knocks, hands me pizza and announces the total.
My whole body stiffens. Seconds seem like hours as I look over the bill and realise that I forgot to include the tax! I feel the clock ticking as I realize that I don’t have the proper change to give this guy a decent tip. Awkwardly I fumble around in my pocket and fished out some of the larger coins. When it was all over I replayed the incident in my head and realised that I gave this poor guy a tip of less than two dollars!
The guy obviously seemed pissed at me when I paid him. During the whole painful exchange I recall myself apologizing over and over. Worried about what this poor schmuck must think of me! It wasn’t until the pizza guy was long gone that I realised I could have just asked the guy for change and he would have gotten at least 20% from me. The fact that the bill was larger than I thought had simply paralysed me beyond all reason. My instincts had failed.
After all that it was hard for me to even enjoy the food as I felt the pain of the driver as bitter bile coming up from the lowest reaches of my digestive system. I wronged this man and will forever be known as some cheapskate who doesn’t know how to do math.
Now I’m faced with three options and all of them suck:
- Order something from them tonight and pay the driver double the tip money just to make things right.
- Wait it out and hope that by the next time I order they’ll have forgotten what a deadbeat I am.
- Never order from these guys again unless I move somewhere else.
The first option could work but I really don’t have the inclination for pizza nor the desire to burn all those extra calories that would result. My big fear with the second option is that they keep some kind of list at every pizza place so they know which pizzas to fuck with before delivering them because that’s something I would do. I don’t think I could ever eat their pizza again without fearing that it has touched some type of ass before arriving on my doorstep.
So it looks like I’m stuck eating inferior pizza until I move. I’ve made my bed and now I have to lie in it. Never again will I hesitate in asking delivery guys for change. This all could have been avoided had I just asked for my fucking total before hanging up the phone.
I really would like to just apologise again to the delivery guy for all I put him through. I have learned from my mistakes and I’m sure one day we’ll meet again and I’ll have the correct change for you.
May all of your future customers be better than I.