Thanks For The Tip

Here is a story I turned in for a competition. The rules were it had to be 300 words, with one character telling a joke and another character laughing. Enjoy...

Finally I get a new table. This is good news because the restaurant has been slow and my station sparse. This middle-aged couple might be my one chance to make any money tonight.

Time to lay on the charm. I crack a smile. I open my mouth. Words ready to escape my lips and stimulate their ear drums…

"That's stupid, we're not doing that!"

Fantastic! This couple could have made the considerate decision and had their little argument at home like civilized human beings but chose instead to air out their dirty laundry in public. Now I get to stand here pretending like this is all normal.

It's not easy; tears are welling up in her eyes as I begin my standard introduction. Before I can list the specials, one droplet breaks free and streams down her face, marring the rouge on her cheek. She quickly wipes the tear away and escapes to the bathroom.

The husband is shaking his head as I look at him for some guidance on what should happen next. Do they even want to eat now? He's showing no sign of wanting either to leave or caring that his wife has ruined her mascara. "I got a question..." He starts in with a half smirk.

"Let's hear it."

"How do you turn a fox into an elephant?"

I have no clue and I couldn't care less if there were two of me... but I have to keep the customer happy. So I bite. "You got me... How?"

"Marry it." Before I even process what he said he's laughing so hard he's hacking up his left lung. My fists clench and my teeth grind as my mind rushes to an alternate universe where it is acceptable for me to let my fist lose or explain that the Madmen shtick is antiquated... especially for guys with beer guts and oil under their finger nails. To act on this fantasy would mean him complaining to the manager. She'll explain that "this kind of behavior" really isn't like me and apologize profusely, maybe even comp their whole meal. More importantly, however, I'll lose my job. I can't afford to let that happen.

So I play ball.

I step out of my own body and watch myself smile from across the room. Smile! And wait there until he gives me their dinner order.

The rest of the meal is equally uncomfortable. They hardly speak as they pick at their food. I don't want him obligating me to smile at more misogynistic garbage so I completely avoid eye contact until they are done eating.

As I swing by to drop off the check he announces: "You're a great waiter." I nod in lieu of saying thank you. "I find men are usually great waiters because they don't have anything to distract them from executing their job well. No monthly visitor..."

"Well I'm not sure that..." I stop midsentence when I catch the wife out of the corner of my eye deflated in her seat. If she heard what he said she either is too worn down to care or she believes it. She won't back me up, no one will. This guy is right on a technicality, the customer is always right. There is nothing I can do about it, nothing I can afford to do about it. So I change gears. "Thank you, sir. Good night." With that I walk away, eyes to the floor.

When they leave I swing by the table to pick up my tip. Six dollars.

Now I know how much my integrity costs.