Blurg.

Tonight... for lack of a better word... blew.

To start the night off right, I switched sections from the money section (we call it the Grinder) to one we call the Mile. The Mile includes all the bar tables; turnover is fast, tabs are not high, and you go home fairly quickly. Because even though I just dropped $700 on a camera, my laziness far outweighs my bank account woes.

Needless to say.

No I'll say it anyway, I just got home and it's almost 1am. So resourcefulness and drive won out again. Damn my efficient work-aloholic German heritage.

You'd think in nine hours, I would've made some money. That's where you'd be wrong.

I'll take this opportunity to thank the tables tonight that loved me. Or at least liked me a lot. Most of the time, almost ALL the time, customers do like me. I make them feel welcome. Like a friend. And yes, that means I'm sarcastic, kind of a bitch, but all in a LOVABLE kind of way. And this usually means they want to give me most of their money when they're done eating.

"No, we don't want our money, here, YOU have it."

"Oh, thank you, you're too kind and generous."

That's the little scenario that plays through my head after a table leaves a satisfying tip.

So to the elderly couple with the straight up dry martini with a twist, thank you. Verbal tips are always welcome, especially when accompanied by moolah.

The huge group of families that sat outside, even though I hated you at first because, well, you sat outside, and it was fucking cold today, thank you for appreciating that I had a full section inside the restaurant and were therefore very low maintenance and even left me over 20% to show me how much you enjoyed your service.

And me.

Because I'm AWESOME.

The rest of my tables could benefit from lessons with you.

$1.72 is NOT a good tip. Especially when all five of you do it on your separate checks.

$2 on $20, $5 on $55, $7 on $62, $3 on $30? NO. BAD CUSTOMERS!

...I could go on and on with the numbers game. But I'll focus on my three favorites of the evening.

3. Table 26. I can't go into detail on how obnoxious you were, no one would get it unless they're in the business. Long story short, you sucked. I'm not a monkey. I'm not retarded. We were busy and you're an asshole. Taking my copy of the Visa slip and leaving me the other two was low. If you didn't want to tip me, put a big ZERO on the tip line, you wouldn't be the first one!

2. Table 21. I don't like you. I tried to be nice, but when I can SEE the disdain in your eyes it really does affect the way I treat you. When you shorted me $5 in cash I brought the money back to you and let you know it didn't quite cover the whole tab. You nodded. This means you heard and acknowledged what I said. After you left, you were STILL $5 short. I really don't like you.

1. Table 36. Gargamel to my Smurf. Skeletor to my He-Man (or She-ra, I guess). I knew you were going to be trouble when I saw you. The long flowing locks paired with the receding hair line. The bleached blonde hair and scrunchy. The jewelry. The clothes. The teeth. It all pointed to white trash. But the smile comes on, the cheer factor goes through the roof, I've been here for 9 hours and I'm fucking HAPPY as SHIT. 3 margaritas, 2 beers, a steak, and a dessert later you realize you've spent $58 on dinner and 'oh, shit! that's all we were budgeted for. But that waitress of ours. She was so attentive and nice, and, dare I say it, pleasing to the eye (35 pounds, bitches!!). She obviously works hard, and when she's not swearing like a sailor or throwing cups across the kitchen, I'm sure she's a pleasure to be around. Eh, we spent all our money on booze and cheesecake. Sorry darling, no tip for you!'

When I get a ZERO tip, I'm essentially paying to be a server. A certain percentage of what I sell (not what I make) is portioned off to manager, bar, and kitchen tips. About 4%. I don't LIKE paying to work. I'm pretty sure no one does. I also don't like to be shit on at work. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

I understand the economy's going down the crapper. I know gas prices are rising exponentially. I have to deal with the same bullshit everyone does! I even have to shop at fancy grocery stores (though I do love New Seasons!) because I can't eat what everyone else does. That's why I work my ass off (literally! 35 pounds, bitches!) at jobs I like (but don't love).

If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to eat out.

Table 36, drive your trailer over to WinCo, pick yourself up some Top Ramen, Kraft Mac 'n' Cheese, and some fucking Budget Gourmet.

Because I hope I NEVER see your asses again at my restaurant.