John Q. Public, a V1 tipster

Catastrophes are plentiful as crumbs at restaurants, and local restaurants are no exception. We sat down in highly guarded areas (taking every precaution to conceal their identities) and questioned every server between Lake Wissota’s northernmost pier and Rock Falls’s southernmost anthill. It seems our methodology paid off: we gained access to the strangest, juiciest, and most comical on-the-job happenings: the stories that, until now, they’ve tucked away with their aprons at night. We cover it all: the “whoopses” that wrecked hopes of a brimming tip jar, the customers who were not always right, the disasters-turned-performances that earned them applause, and more. If you’ve never recited the daily specials, you’ll be enlightened. If you have, well, then you can relate … maybe.

A CRUSHING REALIZATION
I worked at a “drive-in” restaurant during my high school days and had the biggest crush on one of the customers. He always ordered the same burrito meal with very specific substitutions for take-out. I saw this meal waiting for pick-up one day, and decided to put a note in there with my phone number on it, along with some stupid message about thinking he was cute. A little while later, I saw someone paying for that order and it was an elderly woman. Whoops.

STOPPING THEM ON A DIME
My grandparents used to come and visit me while I waitressed. One day they were sitting right next to a few of my other customers. The people finished, and got up to pay their bill, leaving only a dime as a tip. My grandpa saw that and said, “Hey! Don’t be so cheap! That’s my granddaughter who was waiting on you!” I wanted to die.

NAME GAME
I once had a customer who refused to call me by my name. Instead, he insisted on calling me “Little Korean Girl.” I corrected him more than a few times, but to no avail. I finally told him if he refused to address me by my name, I refused to serve him. (It was my boss’s idea.) He finally obliged and I got a 30 percent tip.

PESKY GYMNASTS
One of the worst things, as a server, is to have late diners. The ones who slip in two minutes before the kitchen closes. One unlucky night, I had two buses full of girls coming home from a gymnastics conference pull up and we had to serve them. It was 26 girls under 10 and three coaches. They wanted separate checks and I only got tips from the coaches.

SEE A PENNY, PICK IT UP
Sometimes when you’re a server you’ll have to take fiscal punishment through no fault of your own. For instance when the kitchen screws up an order. It’s never a good situation, and you basically just have to admit the failure and try to make up for it. It’s considered an art form in some areas. One such evening the customer was outraged, I was uber-apologetic and knocked the price down on their meal, and figured it would be fine. He paid for the less-than-$20 check with a $100 bill, asked for change suitable for a tip, and left a penny.

EARN-A-BLUSH
As a banquet waitress, I usually worked weddings, which was always a lot of fun. However, one fateful day I was waitressing for a hunter’s convention. From stuffed dead animals on all the walls to having $20 bills stuffed into my skirt, I was a bit uncomfortable to say the least. Uncomfortable shifted to disastrous when a gun was shot off to begin the meal, causing me to drop 20 pricey dinners and shatter 20 glass plates. As shards of glass and giblets of meat and gravy flew, so did I. I landed on the lap of one very furry old hunter who was in the process of standing up. I earned a hearty round of applause, another $20 bill, and a brilliant blush as reward.

MISPLACED LUNCH
It seems like something is always coming up at work, sometimes quite literally. Even at the end of the night when all you have left to do is sweep up before you can go home, kick off your slip-resistant shoes and relax, there are still issues that arise. There was one such incident, where I was sweeping after my last table and I saw the corner of a napkin sticking out from under the table. I bent down, stuck my broom under the table, and swept out the napkin. However, along the way, I discovered that the napkin was filled with vomit. As I swept it out, I spread the vomit across the floor, adding about 30 minutes of clean-up to my night. The part that kills me is that the barfer was literally two feet away from a garbage can, and yet somehow decided the best place for a barf-filled napkin was under the table.

FINDERS WEEEPERS
Other things that are unacceptable to leave under a table when you leave a restaurant: underwire from a bra, baby shoes/hats/mittens, chewed gum, all of the items from your purse that you no longer want (almost-gone chapstick, ripped up receipts, etc), dirty tissues, dirty diapers, dirty pictures, and insulin pens.

THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG
I’ve received all of these things as tips, and they’re unacceptable: just pennies, candy, coupons, phone numbers, self-help pamphlets, Mary Kay consultant cards, mini-bibles, and what appears to be a $5 bill but is really a pocket sized copy of the Ten Commandments. We make $2.33 an hour and really just need you to leave us a cash tip.