Just the Tip

You Gotta Be Fucking Kidding Me!


A group of yuppie friends are out at dinner. They're all sitting around a big table and the air is filled with conversations about work and play and life in general. One guy, Frank, turns to his friend Jim and mentions that his mother is interested in having some cosmetic surgery at his private practice.

"Say, Jim, how much does a thing like vaginal reconstruction cost?" asks Frank.

"You know what Frank, don't you worry about it. We'll work something out. Your mother deserves only the best!" Jim assures him.

"I know my dad's really gonna appreciate that!" chuckles Frank as they clank their glasses of twelve-year-old scotch.

Their wives are having a different conversation altogether:

"You know Jenny, I've noticed that since so many people are poor right now, that Rosa is putting a little extra elbow grease into scrubbing those toilets. And you're not going to believe this, but I think she's been studying English!"

"Tell me about it Kimberly! Luis has been putting in extra hours, unpaid! My only complaint is that he's always kneeling and praying before using any equipment. It kind of causes a scene. He is so petrified he'll end up like his brother Raul, footless, jobless and deported after a nasty incident with a faulty lawnmower. It's actually pretty adorable!" giggles Jenny.

"I hate to say it but this recession, or whatever it is, is about the best thing that's ever happened to my picture window!" laughs Kimberly.


Their dinner and conversations go on like this for awhile. Everyone is enjoying expensive food and libations. Someone orders some vodka and caviar. Someone else orders a side of lobster tails to take home to their Peikapoo. One of the ladies orders a glass of Dom in which to dab her napkin so that she can try to remove the spot of Opus One she has spilled on her white mink. Everyone is indulging and having a good time.

Then, the waitress brings the check. She hands it to Frank. Frank opens the thing up, has a look at the bill, looks up at the table and asks, "So, who had the....?"


REALLY Frank?!

Frank, Frank, Frank, Frank, Frank....Frank Frank Bo Bank, Banana Fanna Fo Frank, Mee My Mo Mank..... Frank.

FRANK!

You got to ask yourself, Frank, WTFWJD? Do you think Jesus would make his fellow fat-cat and his wife split the bill? NO! Frank. He wouldn't. And I can tell by looking at you and your Hummer that you love Jesus so don't disappoint him by being a total ass-hat.


I'm pretty poor. I mean, I'm not poor-poor. I have all of my teeth and I smell fine. I'm just on the bottom of the middle. We always pay our bills and mortgage on or around the times that they're due. We get by but some months, just barely. We eat in a lot. We save spaghetti sauce jars and use them as drinking glasses. I work tirelessly all spring, pulling weeds and hoeing myself out so that we don't have to buy a single tomato all summer.

And you know what? I have never uttered the words at dinner, "who had the...?". No, in fact, if you're standing in line next to me at Subway, I'll pay for your footlong and make it a combo. No sweat. I don't know what it is, but I cannot stand to nitpick over an itemized receipt. And I find it so quintessentially rich, white, American to divide a dinner bill, tallying up each person's or couple's every individual morsel before adding a twelve-percent tip.

First of all, it's totally classless. Second, it is the most annoying thing to put a waitress through. I mean, you might as well walk in at 9:59 when the kitchen closes at 10 because she's going to be there all night running your six different credit cards and making change anyway. Ok, at the beginning of dinner you are allowed to tell her, "Say, sweetcheeks, we're gonna be on one check and they're gonna be on another,". I don't love this, but this is totally acceptable. She's got it all nice and organized right from the beginning and you each just had her your black American Expresses and don't worry, you didn't accidentally buy your friends anything.

This could quite possibly be one of my many, many, many neuroses. I understand that we're not all ballers and can't be picking up everyone's tab all of the time. But if you're out with friends and you don't despise them so much that you think you may go out with them again sometime, then do the classy thing and take turns.

OR, you can play a little game I like to call "Just the Tip". My sister and I love this one. We'll have lunch twice a month or so and alternate. One time, I'll get the bill and she'll get the tip and the next time, vice-versa. Get it? Yeah, and we get to have a giggle over it. Even though it's always the same routine, when the waitress brings that little black book, we can't help but say,

"Hey, you wanna play just the tip?"
"Just the tip? Are you sure?"
"Yeah, it's so much better than having to deal with the whole thing,"
"Yeah, totally. You should do just the tip, just to see how it feels,"
"Ok, I'm just putting the tip in here,"
"Ok, how was it? Was it ok? You only put just the tip in there, right?"
"Yes, yes, don't worry. It was just the tip,".