The motto of the restaurant I work at is literally, “Ass, cash or grass, nobody eats for free.” It prints out on the bottom of every receipt I drop.

So far, all I’ve gotten is paper or plastic. I’m eagerly anticipating the day someone offers me sex or marijuana in return for their meal. I’m not sure how I’ll respond, but I know the moment will be epic.

Until then, I’m approaching every shift with bated breath and crossed fingers.

At my work, there is literally one bathroom for both customers and employees, and the line can get long—we’re a tea house. Hence, we’ve worked out a you rub my back and we’ll rub yours deal with the tanning salon next door. In exchange for tea, scones, cookies, cupcakes, whatever, they let us run over there and use the bathroom when we just can’t hold it anymore.

Such an emergency situation arose yesterday, and so I jettisoned over there to take a quick pee. Apparently, I was in such a rush, I forgot to lock the door. Just as I was finishing up, pants zipped, washing hands, someone walks in.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she yelped.

“No worries, I’m all done here, come on it,” I said, being friendly. I always feel bad taking up bathroom time from legit tanning customers.

I turned around while drying my hands only to make direct eye contact with Miss Kim Kardashian. The one. The only.

She smiled sheepishly and removed her hands from her eyes.

We both kinda giggled and I ran out, mouthing to the front desk girl who saw the whole thing, “Was that fucking Kim Kardashian?”

Laughing she mouthed back, “Yes!”

“So he tells everyone his name is Rocky, but I found out it’s Luigi.”—Overheard customer conversation at work today

5.) Never, never, wave your hand at your server like you’re in school. Yes, I understand it seems a logical way to get his or her attention, but really, it’s irritating, not to mention superfluous. We know when you need something from us and we’ll get there as soon as we can.

6.) When the bill arrives, don’t pick up the check presenter, look at it, then close and set it on the edge of the table unless you’re ready to leave. Cause guess what? That’s code for, “I’d like to pay.” So if you do this, don’t get offended and say something like, “No. I haven’t even put anything in there yet,” when we ask if you’d like us to run a card or get you change. It make you look stupid.

1.) Unless your server belligerently fucks up, and I mean is so daft she/he serves you the wrong food, cold, doesn’t smile at all, gives you the incorrect check, never once refills your water and tells you you were fat, ugly and should go fuck yourself, tip 18%. ONE-EIGHT. If she/he is good, tip 20% or even more. 

This can easily be figured out:

Take the total bill, for example $45.67. Move the decimal point to the left once = 4.56. Double that amount, and perhaps round up for good karma = $9-$10 dollars.

If using this equation means that your tip will actually amount to less than $2 per person, then leave that — $2/person. So if you were a party of four= $8.

It’s really easy people.

2.) If your server isn’t overly attentive, open your eyes and look around.

    a.) Is she/he the only one on the floor?

    b.) Is there a busboy?

    c.) Are there other extremely highly demanding tables in the restaurant?

    d.) Did all the tables sit at the same time?

3.) If you food takes a while to come out realize that the chances of this having to do with your server are slim to none. She/he are not the ones in the back making your food. She/he have no interest in letting your food sit and get cold once it’s prepared—in fact this makes the cook very angry, which is the last thing you want.

4.) In New York, and many other states, servers don’t get a paycheck. The get a shift pay, all of which goes to taxes. This means that their only source of income is what you tip. So don’t be a cheap ass and realize that this person is standing on their feet for 8 hours plus, running around a restaurant and doing the best they can. Plus, what you tip isn’t just for them. They share that money with the busboys, bartenders and baristas. Show some love and it will likely be reciprocated.

My hands are so dry that the screen on my phone doesn’t realize I’m touching it. I keep being unable to end phone calls, and just sit there tapping away, changing from finger to finger until the other person hangs up first. 

What’s more, it hurts like a motherfucker having my skin like the Sahara. The tips of my fingers are cracking, it’s hangnails galore and my nails keep breaking below the meat. I’m embarrassed for anyone to even see them. They can’t wait for this vacation, too, a break from the constant washing of a service industry job.