http://www.thedayjobber.com/search?q=rednecks
My current table of Rednecks was finishing up, nary a scrap of food left on any of the plates. The father was
lighting up his cigarette, using his baby’s stray shoe as an ashtray. I reminded him
that he was seated in a non-smoking section. He grudgingly obeyed, put
out the butt and pulled out a ridiculously large wallet attached to
his belt via a chain. “How much I owe ya?” he interned as he sifted
through his recently cashed paycheck of hundred dollar bills. “I’ll
bring the bill, sir,” I answered with noted snootiness.
Rednecks always pay in cash, and at dinner with the family on Friday
night, it is always with hundred dollar bills. First of all, they
don’t trust banks. Second, they just got paid and want people to know
they got themselves a fine stack of money. Third, they couldn’t get a
credit card if they wanted to. The bill came out to $98.37. Quick, how
much to you think he left me as a tip? If you chose $1.63, give
yourself a cookie. He tossed the hundred on top of the bill, leaned
back and rubbed his belly. “You’n keep the change.” I smiled daggers
through his dimly lit eyes. “Thank you,” I replied. “Mutherfucker,” I
thought to myself. No sense in getting too upset, though. There was
nothing I could do about it. I knew I was going to get stiffed long
before I delivered the bill. I knew that when they were walking to my
table.
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
I gave myself a cookie just like you said. Somehow your tone gave it away.
Hooray! A cookie!