On Friday I had breakfast at the Carolina Coffee Shop with Brad. I grabbed the check since he paid it last time, but in the excitement of all the stuff we were discussing I forgot to sign it, which I realized when I was over by the Paul Green Theater because I realized I didn't have a mental image of what I had tipped. Fortunately, it being summer, I was able to pull a uey, go back and park in the middle of campus, and sidle in the back way to the Coffee Shop to fix my goof.
The server found the ticket and discovered that I had indeed not signed nor calculated a tip. I asked if it would have gone through without a signature and she said it would have, she just wouldn't have gotten a tip.*
I have pontificated on the importance of tipping before, but the ever closer march of Our Robot Overlords (henceforth ORO) and the societal wealth dispersion they exacerbate only heightens the need for tipping.
This morning at my hotel in DC the sole server (all orders had to be placed at the bar) was momentarily terse with me and my hackles got raised for an instant. Then I recalibrated and realized there was just one of her, likely beset with many of me in the course of just about any morning. She was, moreover, a relative newcomer to our fair shores, working in a service role early in the morning. On the other side of the wealth divide. I tipped her 20% and moved on with my day.
*As with physical checks, the signature protects the delivering financial institution against challenges.
No comments:
Post a Comment