tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6988729.post1488103820308118802..comments2024-03-27T11:42:47.601-04:00Comments on Another Monkey: ServiceD.B. Echohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01797128570217627410noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6988729.post-23833928261095650452007-07-28T10:26:00.000-04:002007-07-28T10:26:00.000-04:00I dunno, Harold. Would we hear these occasional st...I dunno, Harold. Would we hear these occasional stories about "Waitress receives $35,000 tip" if she had to share it with her co-workers? Needless to say, I'm one of those who thinks the whole "tipping system" should be banished and waitresses, etc, just paid a decent wage. It's too confusing to keep track of (do I tip the newspaper delivery person? my hairdresser? the UPS delivery guy? where does it end???), plus the tax implications are patently unfair since no one knows how much someone got paid in tips. If the purpose of Tips really is "To Insure Promptness" (which I believe is a myth), then it should reflect the quality of the service - not the quality of the coffee or food or even cleanliness of the surroundings.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6988729.post-90275544660096268822007-07-28T10:09:00.000-04:002007-07-28T10:09:00.000-04:00Joy, I've never worked in food service, but my und...Joy, I've never worked in food service, but my understanding is that tips are pooled among the waitstaff and then divided up. So punishing one server for lousy service punishes all of them. Besides, it might not have been her fault - the fact that NOBODY was running around with a coffee pot suggested that maybe there was a problem with the coffee supply. If that was the case, though, she should have mentioned it. And as my mom pointed out, the caffee <I>was</I> very good, as was the food.<BR/><BR/>In the case of the Hard Rock Café incident, the contemptuous neglect was so egregious that I didn't give a rat's ass if everybody in the place went home without a paycheck that week.<BR/><BR/>My worst invisibility incident was at a McDonald's 15 years ago. I had stopped in after working night shift. It was my last day on shift, and I was treating myself. I made my way to the front of the line, and the clerk went away. When she returned she began waiting on people BEHIND me. It was the damnedest thing. After she did this twice, I stepped into her line of sight, looked her in the eyes, and said "Excuse me, I would like to ORDER!"D.B. Echohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01797128570217627410noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6988729.post-19410090173641548862007-07-28T08:02:00.000-04:002007-07-28T08:02:00.000-04:00You left a 15% tip for that lousy service? I only...You left a 15% tip for that lousy service? I only leave a 15% or 20% tip for GOOD service! I'm ridiculously generous for outstanding service - partly cuz I'm so lousy at math {is a $5 tip too much for a $7 tab with excellent service?). That no-refill waitress would've gotten NO tip from me.<BR/><BR/>Wouldn't that "cloak-of-invisibility" be a useful power to have if you could control when it worked? Happened to me once when I attempted to have lunch alone at a Black-Eyed Pea in Little Rock. I was craving one of their side-dishes, so decided to eat there on one of my afternoons off work. Someone seated me at a highly visible booth. I sat there for at least a 1/2 hour with no one ever coming to take my order or even offer me water. This was like 2PM and the restaurant wsa practically empty, so it's not like the place was so busy, they just didn't get to me. The dread "cloak-of-invisibility" had fallen around my shoulders. Needless to say, I sent a nasty letter to the manager of the restaurant when I got home. He sent me a letter filled with apologies and a free coupon, but before I was able to use it, the place had gone out of business. It was once extremely popular, and the food was great. But word of lousy service gets around. Beware, Cracker Barrel---I find myself avoiding that restaurant due to several poor-service episodes at various locations.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com