There was ten of you and one of me. I brought you menus. I brought you tea. Half had breakfast. Half had lunch. It was like trying to feed the bipolar Brady bunch. I ran back. I ran forth. You must have dropped sixty forks. A mess on the table. A mess on the floor. You had this and that, and still wanted more. I split your check, and tried to aim you to the door. Finally you said you were stuffed. I asked if you were sure you had had enough. Yes, you exclaimed, much to my glee. I hurried to my table just to see, how much my efforts had earned for me. I looked under napkins and plates. At last I could see, all that you left was nothing, A stiffy.
2 Responses to ' Give Me A Stiffy '
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on September 23rd, 2007 at 5:23 am
No tip?
Jerks.
on February 26th, 2008 at 2:00 pm
Beautiful (and ugly) poetry all at the same time.
That is why I am so happy to be able to ADD 18% gratuity! If you tell your manager that you just got stiffed on that table and he doesn’t help you — he’s going to have to pay you at least $5.25 per hour that day!! Threaten his ass hehe!
Me:
http://waitersrevenge.blogspot.com/