Working Overtime for a Tip

Waiter-cum-blogger Waiter Rant spins an epic yarn of one evening's tipping point at his anonymous Chelsea bistro:

Vogue Girl leans forward and plants a kiss on her date's cheek. Yes things are going his way. Matinee signals for the check. I'm happy. When a guy knows he's getting laid the tip size expands proportionally with the ego trip.

I print up the check. It's a $100 bucks. I walk over and deliver it. Matinee reaches into his breast pocket for his wallet. As he draws it out something falls and lands in the middle of the aisle with a click. I look down automatically.

On the floor is a solitary Trojan Condom.

The exciting conclusion on the other side of this link.
· Trojan Man [Waiter Rant]

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