"Sorry say that again?"
"A hundred and eighty two pounds!"
"A hundred and eighty two pounds? Holy sweet mother of mercy and baby jesus in the manger on the first christmas morning with a new Nintendo Wii that's a lot of money."
I was shocked, shocked and delighted. Waiter chum number two had lifted the aforementioned sum of money as a tip from a wonderful table of 20 for a little over two hours work. I wasn't shocked that waiter chum number two had done well with the table as she is a good un, but rather the fact that they had tipped another hundred on top of their service charge did take my breath away. As the wonderful couple who settled the bill left with all their wonderful colleagues in tow we formed an honour guard fitting of a departing head of state. There was genuine tears trickling down my hardened face. We all took turns in kissing their behinds and inviting them to return soon, soon like tomorrow.
parsimonious, and ultimately idiotic table of ten from earlier in the evening.
"Excuse me young man...", she didn't say it like a compliment as it had come right down her nose, "...can I settle the bill before we sit down?" Their food was pre-ordered so it was no big deal. Waiter chum number one presented her with the bill, complete with service charge.
"This seems a little higher than we expected", exclaimed the thin lipped woman dripping in gold and cocooned in fur. Waiter chum number one went through the bill line by line with her like she was a five year old learning long division for the first time. I was standing nearby twitching to join in, but I didn't. Waiter chum number one knew full well what Priscilla Penny Pincher was quibbling about but played along. No point in making it easy. If they don't want to pay the service charge then make them say it, out loud at that.
"Ah it's the service charge...." No shit Sherlock! "...No, no I don't think we ever pay such tariffs we we dine out. We shall see how we feel at the end of the meal." Her lips thinned so much as she spoke it was as if she had shed them to save blood.
"Okie dokie then madam, that's not a problem", replied waiter chum number one as she made the changes on the bill. With the bill settled Priscilla Penny Pincher turned to take her seat but not before half turning and looking over her shoulder back at waiter chum number one and I and adding, "You'll just have to work harder for that tip....oh and be a sweetie and fetch me a G&T would you."
I'll fetch my boot up yer ass.
Hey if you don't want to pay the service charge then don't, we will get over it. But for the love of Gordon Ramsay's alleged mistress don't tell the waiter before you have even slurped your first lukewarm (for all your food will be lukewarm) spoonful of soup that you "don't ever pay such tariffs". It's not smart and if you think that by doing so the waiter is going to work harder for you you are very much mistaken. My days of dancing are well and truly over. There was no line up to say goodbye to her or her chums.
The weekend was superb though. As a warm up for the really big shifts coming over the next few week it was perfect. And despite the shenanigans of Priscilla and her Penny Pinching ways we made some great money too. But it's not her that sticks in my mind nor is it the wonderful couple who tipped us so generously. No it was something much more, well, how shall I put it? Penile! Yes penile is the best way to describe the horror that was the ten o'clock toilet check.
It would be fair to say that I have never thrived well in a locker room type environment. I was shite at all sports at school, that said I wasn't the last to be picked for team events. Thank god there were two kids more useless than me. I never enjoyed the dubious camaraderie and towel flicking of the showers and even to this day I will select only those swimming pools that offer individual and private changing areas over the ones that offer only communal areas in which to get dressed. I'm not insecure I just don't like those environments. Honest.
So in I wandered to check the toilets were flowing as they should be when who should I find taking a pish and talking on his phone at the same time but the nice chap from my cute table of two. The cute thing didn't last long though. He chatted, pished, shook it, and turned around and nodded in my direction. I acknowledged him and spun right round to wash my hands as his chap was still hanging out, little did I know he was air drying it.
"I have to say Manuel that was a fantastic meal, really lovely." Why he had to tell me this with his dick swinging in the wind I'm not quite sure.
I decided that I would forgo drying my hands and would just use some white roll when I got back into the safe and penis covered environment of the restaurant. "Oh yeah great, cheers" replied I with both eyes firmly on the wall.
"Great service too from your good self, I really mean that." Oh sweet jebus why is he still talking to me with his Mickey still flopping and what's this...he's not.....he bloody is....."put it there young man!" and he reached out to shake my hand. I wasn't for putting anything anywhere.
Get to fucking fuck outta here! I told him my hands were still wet and scampered quick sharpish.
"I'll see you inside then", he shouts as I beat a hasty retreat. Oh no you fucking wont I thought as I ran. But five minutes later I was at the table with him and his wife taking his credit card payment in silence thinking about how all three of us had now seen his penis. Nice.
What ever happened to good old fashioned shame? Eh? I don't check the toilets anymore, obviously.