Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Point/Weaker Point: Generous Tipping
You Watch, I'm Getting Laid with this Tip
By Evan Ressmer
I'm usually a decent tipper. I wouldn't call myself either generous or cheap. I tend to give pretty standardly, at least by college town evaluations. In general, my tip on a round is usually a dollar. So if I'm ordering one or five drinks I usually leave a buck. But tonight, I found reason to break norm.
This bartender has been eyeing me up all night. She's constantly looking over my way to see if I need anything. And when my glass is empty, she's on top of it like I'm hoping to be on top of her in a few hours.
And look at what she's wearing. It's 40-degrees outside and she's wearing a little tank top. She knows I come in to Hemingway's every Tuesday night. She knew I was going to be sitting at the third stool from the door. Why else would she wear something so revealing?
So when I order my next drink, I'm going to slip her a little something extra when I pay for it. Instead of one dollar, I'm going to let her keep the additional fifty cents on my dollar-fifty beer. What woman could resist a hundred percent tip from a charming patron? Certainly not her. This tip will clinch it. I'm going home with the bartender tonight.
I'm Tired of Putting Myself on Display, but…
By Meghan Stevenson
Bartender, Hemingway's, CAS, '09
I'll admit it, flirting is a bartender's best weapon. It's part of the job. It's not my favorite part of the job, but it's what I have to do to make ends meet. I don't enjoy putting myself out there and on display for drunk men who drink up the courage to think they are going to get me in bed, but it pays the bills and it's a hell of a lot better than working at Target, which was my previous job.
Probably my least favorite part is needing to have my tits hang out all night. Or having customers order drinks to my chest instead of my face. But it's part of the job. I've tried to wear more traditional clothing. Last Tuesday, I got so tired of the ogling that I wore a turtle neck. And while I was actually temperate for once, my tips suffered. On a standard night I usually clear about a hundred twenty five or so. When I wore my turtle neck, I make seventy five. Unbelievable. Men are so stupid. I'm freezing my nipples off here, so they can get a glimpse of my cleavage. Why don't they just spare themselves the trouble and go to the strip club?
And if I have to laugh at any more of their stupid jokes or put up with another misguided compliment about how I'm the best looking girl at Pitt, I think I'm going to implode. But, like I said, it pays the bills and it beats a lot of the other shitty-ass jobs out there. I could go on, but that creepy guy at the end of the bar who has been staring at my ass all night long looks like he needs a drink. Wow, I hope he gives me an extra fifty cent tip if I bend over when I ask if he wants another - what an asshole.