Friday, 27 September 2013

Eating out?

I don’t normally eat out much, however when I do go out I usually go out with company. There is nothing nicer than being with others, enjoying food, and having making conversation. However, I feel the night revolves around the service of the restaurant. Whether it’s good service or bad, it always ends in that awkward moment of tipping the service. I personally feel that tipping is strictly dependant on the level of service. This means, giving no tip is an option as well. The most annoying thing is being scolded be friends and family for not tipping. The reason I sometimes don’t tip isn't because I'm a cheap person. The reason I occasionally don’t tip, is because I am displeased with the service. I have a history of working at many restaurants, therefore I can comprehend the reason for tipping, but I feel that most people do not know where it stems from.

In the United States the federal minimum wage for servers is $2.13 as of 2013.Being Canadians we are heavily influenced by the States. In Alberta, the minimum wage is $9.75. Everyone gets at least this amount. Even, the guy working at the local Wal-Mart is receiving this amount hourly. He may, and often does go above and beyond his job requirements, but I don’t tip this man, and I'm willing to bet you don’t either. So, why would you tip someone who is just doing their job?

Now, I bet you wonder what hell a server goes through we feel the need to tip them. Generally, the process is as follows; they greet you, ask you what you’d like to drink, return with the drinks, take the order, comeback with the food and, carry the small white piece of paper to your table. A good server will go beyond the requirements and visit more often, even if it’s busy. As I said I have worked in restaurants in the past. I've heard the “kitchen talk”. Instead of servers being productive, they often talk poorly of their customers, chatting about what they screwed last night, or complaining about lack of tips. Meanwhile the cooks are working their asses off, the bussers are making everything clean, the hostesses are seating customers, and managers are “baby sitting” the servers.

And who normally never sees this tip money that we all give? Generally, no one see that the tip money except for the servers. Now, this is a generalization as some establishments have different tipping policies. For example, bussers may get a percentage of the tips or sales. However, if the bussers are supposed to receive a portion of this money they often get stiffed because they don’t know the full amount the servers received. This percentage is never accurate because the server’s tips are not monitored, as it is considered incredibly rude in the industry to ask how much they made in tips. As well giving away their hourly bonus isn't something they are happy about. This is something else they would often complain about.

When I was young, my mom always forced me to tip. She still does to this day, because she used to be a server. So, I've been tipping for the sake of it. Until, I got into the industry. I was socially conditioned to do it, as I'm willing to bet you were to. Naturally seeing dad slip an extra toonie on the table taught me that the norm was to give a little extra to the server, but I've been educated and I hope you have to, that this is not the case.

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

Last Friday

Last Friday afternoon the bus dropped me off at my usual stop, three blocks away from my house. It was ridiculously hot, and when it's hot no one in a very good mood, especially old people. As I approached my place, the new neighbour was mowing the lawn. That quickly stopped as I arrived on the scene. I thought this would be a great chance to meet the new residents next door, but as I stood in front of him, I knew he was not happy, because old people never are.
            “Why don’t you get your lawn mown?” the old man said.
“Maybe someday” I shot back. It’s my property! Why should anyone be telling me how to take care of it? It is so incredibly rude to tell someone they don’t take care of their things properly.
“Maybe right now” he said a little angrier this time. I was stunned at first. I stood there cemented to the ground, waited a second or two; and then began to laugh. He couldn't possibly be serious, even the most stubborn of people wouldn't be this rude, he must be joking I thought to myself. “NOW!!” he screamed. I soon realised he was serious and as such I began to laugh even harder. He then hit me in the mouth out of nowhere. Now I am not going to hit an elderly man, but I am going to restrain him from harming me. I pushed him to the ground, rolled him over on his stomach, and quickly put a knee onto his back. He twisted, he turned, he yelled, he screamed, and he cursed. It took a lot to hold him down. I am now a true believer in old man strength. I quickly assessed the situation; I knew I couldn't just let him go, especially after he had been held down by a person a foot and a half shorter than him. He wasn't going to just let it go. He had too much pride for that, too much old man pride. So I knew I had to quickly act. I dragged him to the nearby garden hose and wrapped his hands. I then walked inside my house.

Inside the house I told my room-mates about the situation. We all had a good laughed about.  The two of them then went out and untied the neighbour.  Later that evening I went and mowed the lawn… slowly, with a grin on my face.