Monday, January 23, 2012

Dear Cathy...

Dear Abby Cathy,

What is the appropriate amount you should tip at a poboy place on a Friday night? 15% 20%?

Probably not 5000%, right? That's what I thought. Until last Friday night.

Some friends and I were hanging out and drinking when we decided to indulge in some French bread, greasy, meaty goodness. We went to a restaurant where you place your order, give them your name, and then wait and they call you when your food is ready. This is a normal process that normal people can handle. First of all, normal is a tough term to define. Second of all, I was especially not normal on this night. I brought my own scotch in my own "go cup" to dinner with me. I don't drink scotch. I shouldn't drink scotch.

But I did.

I also gave them my "fake name" because giving my real name to anyone who will soon be repeating it out loud is always guaranteed to be a bigger deal than it should be (hence the blog double entendre).

Them: What's your name?
Me: Leila
Them: What?
Me: Leila
Them: Spell it.
Me: L-e-i-l-a
Them: L-i?
Me: No- L-e-i-l-a
Them: Type L-I-L-A onto my receipt and look at me hopefully.
Me: Sure- whatever.

Food is ready.

So instead I go with "Cathy." Nice. Simple. Hard to screw up. Unless I'm drinking scotch.

I was waiting on my poboy, and my friends and I were chatting and we kept heard a name being called. I laughed and told my friends that whoever "Chad" was- he sure wasn't hungry.

Name called again.

Finally waiter comes out to our table- "Are one of yall Cathy?"

Me: "Yeah- why?"
Him: "We've been calling your name for a while." (Chad?!?) "Also, they need you at the register."

I go to get my food and they won't give it to me before I go to the register. WTF is going on here? I just want my poboy to wash down with my scotch.

I go to the register and the girl who took my order is frantically dialing. She gets on the phone and then looks at me and goes "It's for you."

I immediately think I am about to be caught in some sort of horrible moment where there was someone named Cathy there and she is getting a call because there's been a terrible accident and I have to explain that I'm really not Cathy. So awkward. Scotch awkward.

Instead, I get on the phone with the manager and she explains to me that the girl accidentally added an $800 tip to my bill that night. I'm pretty sure I don't look like P-Diddy so I don't know why they picked me to try to make it rain. Because I couldn't. The poboy was my big purchase of the night. And it wasn't dipped in gold and it didn't come with any sort of $800 gesture, so I am not sure why I was paying that much money for it.

Apparently I wasn't. The manager just wanted to explain to me what had happened but that they had cleared it right away. It was all well and good except that every time she called me Cathy, I almost corrected her. That's what I get for trying to use a "normal" name- an $800 poboy.

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