When I am out with my family, I am a huge tipper. Why? Because I'm Mr. Moneybags? Because I am trying to break the Jew stereotype? Nope.
When a waiter serves my family...they earn it. Just ask the staff at the Red Robin in my town. We were there for lunch.
My kids leave a wake of destruction worse than Hiroshima. Worse than Chernoble, worse than Star Jones at Sizzler. They manage to reduce restaurant tables down to their molecular level.
And it's not just the concentric circles of food that radiate from the floor beneath the table and consume all the neighboring seats. It is not just the spilled beverages and stained table clothes.
It is the shredded equal packets strewn about like New Year's Eve confetti.
It is the lines of salt that make the booth look like a Hollywood Producer's coffee table circa 1980.
It is the general concoction of waste over every surface that magically does not resemble anything we ordered.
If you wait on the Freemans, you fucking earn it.
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