The Strangest Tip Ever

Yesterday seemed unoriginal, another depressingly slow Monday night at Hooters. When nights are slow and Hooters Girls have ample time it is not uncommon to see girls sitting and conversing with their guests for long periods of time. Really it presents an interesting paradox: you’re making less money and thus unhappy yet you’re talking and enjoying your time with your guests more, thus happy. Luckily, I received what is easily my most creative tip in my Hooters history, which easily made my night.

Mid-shift, a group of 20something guys pull up stools at one of my high-tops. Normal enough, the guys sport athletic shorts, flip flops, and of course the young American male staple the backwards, well worn baseball cap. After ordering beers and plenty of hot wings, I sat down with the guys and talked for a while – nothing spectacular, just normal conversation.

The meal came to an end and I dropped off their ticket as they all threw cash down on the center of the table. I couldn’t help but notice as they gathered their cash that I was looking at a pretty hefty tip. Score!

Filing out one by one as I hold open the door, the last guy grabs my arm, “Just so you know I left something extra for you in that napkin,” he says gesturing toward the table.

“Thanks! I’ll totally check it out,” I hear myself saying as I’m simultaneously thinking, ugh, another number I’m sure. I’ll call you back never.

Busing the table I’ve pretty much forgotten about the number I expected to find tucked into the folds of a bevnap. I grab my cash and start organizing it neatly by denomination when I see the napkin. As I pick it up I realize that it’s not just a number, but there is actually something in the napkin. Unfolding it, a familiar scent wafts gently and before I even see what it is I know it’s weed. Now I have never smoked weed before (it’s not that I’m against it it’s just that I’ve never really cared to try it) but living in a liberal college town populated with hippies and spoiled rich kids pretending to be hippies I have certainly seen my share of the stuff. I can smell weed a mile away and I certainly know a nug when I see one.

I was rather surprised and looking at the drug there on the napkin I remember thinking that it was rather presumptuous. I mean what if I was one of those goody-goody tattletale types or a sexy cop involved in an undercover investigation (stretching it, I know) and turned his ass in? Of course I’m not like that, I’m just a Hooters Girl and I could care less if John Doe likes to toke now and again so I just got a good laugh out of the whole thing. If I knew more about weed I could have calculated it’s worth into my tip, but instead I just threw it away because even if I did smoke I certainly wouldn’t smoke some random, possibly PCP laced, stuff left on my table – I’d smoke the good shit.

Thank you cliché college boys for more than making my night. I won’t be lighting up anytime soon but I will smile knowing you left me the best tip ever.