Big Tipper

money

Now knowing me, I want to start off with something funny and sassy like:  “I didn’t know Al’s wife had put on weight, how does she look?” But a great majority of you possibly do not remember that Al Gore’s wife was named “Tipper.”

So I won’t do that today.

This is not about his wife anyway.  We went out to eat on Saturday with some friends, Tessa and Jay.  We went to a place called the “Catfish Cabin” and they have this very large and sumptuous buffet (which stands for Big Ugly Fat Folks Eating Together) and nice spread.  We have been there many times in the past, the food is good, the ambiance is okay, and we are comfortable there.

We ate a good meal, we sat around and visited a little and then it came time to leave.

So our friends ventured, “We will pay for the meal, you get the tip.” So I readily agreed, sounded like a good deal to me, and that is that.  I reach into my pocket, feel the fresh crisp paper currency with my hand, bring it out and toss it on the table at the same time I am talking to my friend Jay and of course slipping into my jacket so that the cold winter Oklahoma night doesn’t freeze me too death.

You see I am really good at multi-tasking, have I ever shared that with y’all, well, I am.

So everything is fine, and then out of the clear blue, appears our waiter server guy and he is just overjoyed to see us, he says, “You folks came back again!  We are sooooooooooo glad that you came by, please don’t be a stranger.”

And then goes on and on.

Afterwards Jay looks at me and says, “Man, that guy was sure glad to see us.  What is up with that?” and I just shrugged my shoulders and said, “I dunno.” We said our respective goodbyes and did the obligatory woman hug in the parking lot and then headed out in our own separate directions, another good dinner and some fellowship, end of a night.

Saturday Nite In The Big Town.  Payday-tight-shoe-money night.

Next morning, we are up early, getting ready to go out to breakfast, and I am putting on my pants.  The wife she says, “Do you have to go to the bank?” and I said, “Naw, got it right here in my pocket, $41 dollars.” Then I reach into my pants, feel the paper money in the pocket, retrieve it and pull it out.

There it is …. 1 five, and 2 fresh, brand new ONE DOLLAR bills!

You see, the three bills I fished out of my pocket at the Catfish Cabin were the two twenties and the one single, breakfast money for the next day, and the three bills in my hand the next morning were for the tip.

During all of my efficient off the charts multi-tasking my priorities somehow reversed on me.  So ends the mystery of the enthusiastic waiter server person.  We now know.

Well time to go, getting a little verbose here over nothing.  When I get some spare time later on, I will tell you how we went to the Mall on Sunday after breakfast and my lovely wife bought me a brand new money clip.

And it wasn’t even my birthday!

000