This will not rate against actual horror stories that any other server could tell, but it’s all I’ve got so I’ll tell it anyway.
My family briefly owned a restaurant years ago in our small rural hometown, I briefly worked there as a bartender when I was down and out. Before it was our restaurant, the building had housed a seedy blue collar bar; video poker lounge, selling drugs out of the kitchen, most of the clientele arrived on foot because they were on suspended licenses for DUIs, etc. We were not a fine dining establishment by any means but definitely more upscale by comparison. Tablecloths, steaks and chops, largest selection of craft beers in the county.
One night while I’m behind the bar a 50ish year old guy comes in with his two early 20s sons. Dad is dressed like upper middle class, kids are preppies. Loafers and polo shirts. The dad is visibly surprised and confused when he sits down at the bar. He explains that he had intended to show his boys a good time at the crappy dive bar he used to haunt when he went to college in the neighboring big city years and years ago, couldn’t believe this was the same place. I explain how we’re a respectable family establishment now, make small talk about his old college days, reminisce about ol’ man Patterson who used to hold up the end of the bar every night back in the day (died of lung cancer), recommend beer pairings for the food they order…basically charming the shit out of him. Can’t stop talking about how nice it is, how great it is, how they ought to come back with the rest of the family sometime.
He settles up the tab. “Wow, what a great meal! This has really been great!” I prepare to receive the a hefty tip. Check the receipt book…no tip. I even went so far as to check the floor on the other side of the bar, thinking maybe the cash money had accidentally slipped off. Nada. Got stiffed.
The next night, him and the sons are back, this time with mom and two other couples, a table of nine of them all together. They get the big table in the back room, everyone orders the ribeye, multiple bottles of our best wine, in there for several hours getting grade A service. After closing their waitress comes over to me. “Can you believe those fuckers didn’t leave a tip!?”
This will not rate against actual horror stories that any other server could tell, but it’s all I’ve got so I’ll tell it anyway.
My family briefly owned a restaurant years ago in our small rural hometown, I briefly worked there as a bartender when I was down and out. Before it was our restaurant, the building had housed a seedy blue collar bar; video poker lounge, selling drugs out of the kitchen, most of the clientele arrived on foot because they were on suspended licenses for DUIs, etc. We were not a fine dining establishment by any means but definitely more upscale by comparison. Tablecloths, steaks and chops, largest selection of craft beers in the county.
One night while I’m behind the bar a 50ish year old guy comes in with his two early 20s sons. Dad is dressed like upper middle class, kids are preppies. Loafers and polo shirts. The dad is visibly surprised and confused when he sits down at the bar. He explains that he had intended to show his boys a good time at the crappy dive bar he used to haunt when he went to college in the neighboring big city years and years ago, couldn’t believe this was the same place. I explain how we’re a respectable family establishment now, make small talk about his old college days, reminisce about ol’ man Patterson who used to hold up the end of the bar every night back in the day (died of lung cancer), recommend beer pairings for the food they order…basically charming the shit out of him. Can’t stop talking about how nice it is, how great it is, how they ought to come back with the rest of the family sometime.
He settles up the tab. “Wow, what a great meal! This has really been great!” I prepare to receive the a hefty tip. Check the receipt book…no tip. I even went so far as to check the floor on the other side of the bar, thinking maybe the cash money had accidentally slipped off. Nada. Got stiffed.
The next night, him and the sons are back, this time with mom and two other couples, a table of nine of them all together. They get the big table in the back room, everyone orders the ribeye, multiple bottles of our best wine, in there for several hours getting grade A service. After closing their waitress comes over to me. “Can you believe those fuckers didn’t leave a tip!?”
Yes I can, Haley…yes I can.
Autonatic 18% gratuity for parties of 6 or more is standard.
Perhaps Europeans?
The guy said he frequented the place back in college. Even if he was from abroad, he would’ve picked up on this common social cue during that time.
Europeans do tipping too, just not as crazy as Americans.
Perhaps jerks?
Perhaps assumed OPs family cared enough to pay them