ExposedNYC

Just for the record, in a bar it’s not acceptable to replace an actual tip with your business card with a note written on the back. Especially not when that card reveals you as a manager at a capital fund (so YOUR JOB is to give money away, right?). No, it doesn’t make up for it that your note said “I would to take you for a drink sometime…” followed by something scrawled incoherently that my fellow waitresses and I laughed, mocking your continued incompetence at the very basics of life.

If you hadn’t left the card I would’ve almost given you a pass. You made me laugh when instead of ordering a Red Headed Slut you chose to call them Naughty Red Heads, while still insisting that the English were a more vulgar culture. You were from Britain, and as irritating as it is to be stiffed, it’s mildly less insulting when I can convince myself that it was simply a matter of falling back on your own customs and not outright rudeness. It doesn’t pay my bills, but at least you’ll leave me homeless with my dignity.

But you admitted to having lived here a year. This leaves me to believe one of three things:

1. You honestly counted wrong, or dropped money while preparing the check. Sadly, even I am not that optimistic.

2. You are arrogant enough to believe that a date with you is more valuable than actual currency. While that kind of confidence may seem admirable to some, it just makes me want to invent a Naughty Red Head- a new move where I pour an entire bottle of red wine over your head.

3. After a year of living here you have not bothered to learn the customs of tipping when going out on the town, leading me to believe that there is an angry mob of servers currently campaigning to deport your ass, so any relationship we began would surely be short lived.

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