My Side

Working as a waitress can have its downsides. When three middle-aged men walk in, I have to hope for a decent tip. I judge my table on their tipping-ability within the first thirty seconds of communicating with them. If I feel it necessary, I will go the extra mile while serving them in order to bolster the amount they leave. I figure out quickly that these men are going to have me running for a possible ten percent gratuity. They order dinners, which is good for me because if they base the tip off the total of their bill I will come out on top. One man complains that his baked potato is not cooked all the way through. He tells me I had better "rectify that". I go to the kitchen and request another potato. I am informed that the man received the last baked potato in the house. I return to the table and divulge this atrosity. The man demands that I remove the charge from the bill. I promise to do so, then promptly forget. It doesn't matter anyay, when I drop off the bill the man's friend is paying for the uncooked potato that has mysteriously disappeared.

His Side

I go to the Blue Ox to eat with my friends. We all order dinners. I get a medium rare prime rib with a baked potato and asparagus. When the idiot waitress drops off my plate, I quickly realize that she didn't cook my potato all the way. Of course she can't get that right. I inform her that she had better rectify this problem. She probably doesn't even know what the word 'rectify' means. I don't care that Joe is paying the tab, I just want this young lady to feel as stupid as I can make her. She has tattoos on her arms, she must be mentally-challenged. She tells me that they are out of baked potatoes and that she will take the charge off the bill. She quickly walks away. I've obviously ruined her night. Mission accomplished! I continue with eating my free baked potato.

Their Side

I sit at the bar and watch a young waitress approach a booth where three men sit. She gets their beverages to them and enters their food order into the computer. I watch as she tends to her other three tables, running circles around this large building that was once a train depot. She looks tired as sweat drips from her brow. She comes out of the kitchen with three large dinner plates. She sets them down, exchanges a few words with them, leaves the table and returns with drink refills. The man on the left side of the booth has grabbed her attention. He looks as though he is barking out some sort of complaint in between bites. She walks away from the table and heads for the kitchen. When she returns, her expression is weary. She exchanges words with the man and walks away from the table. Fifteen minutes later she returns to the booth with the bill. She says something to the man on the left. A man on the right inserts his credit card into the payment book. The man on the left looks smug, as though he is a child who just got a bag of candy for no reason at all.
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