Women, cover your eyes if you're easily offended. But the simple truth of the matter is that most of you tip for shit. Tonight at work, two women griped and griped (and ate and ate, as if they needed any more fodder for their rarely used Stairmasters). I introduced myself, asked if they wanted to hear about our features (a question that went unanswered) and proceeded to tell them about our fish of the day. Before I could finish the word "swordfish," the heftier of the two said, "Uhm, we don't like fish."

Tempting responses:
"Why, because you look like one?" "
"Right. You're probably interested in our low-fat entrees."
"Oh I'm sorry, all we have is fish. See ya at Chili's."
"Then close your legs because that's all I can smell."

Of course I smiled and took it on the chin. I refilled their coffee, didn't seethe when they asked for numerous re-cooks and ignored their lackadaisical responses to everything I said. Then they asked me to split their check. Not down the middle, mind you, but to the nearest penny. Then came the %14 percent tip. From now on I'll be prepared. Next time two women come in, I'm going to say "You don't need to know my name. Each of you is having a house salad and the rotisserie chicken. The tip will be included in your tab. Don't look down on me, because if I sense that, I'm going to retch in your chicken. Here's your tab."