Carry out. Tip or no tip, you tell me!

Hi all!

It's my 50th post! Sorry I have been MIA. I have been working on finding a full time job (successful - I start Monday) and my computer with all my future blogs stored on it broke! Again. So, that's my excuse. But I will be doing the best I can in the future to add to this. I am going to be looking for a weekend job at a restaurant soon, I sort of miss the atmosphere. But enough about me!

Recently, I saw a blog from So you want to be a waiter about carry out orders and tipping. (You can find his link on my blog roll.. I'm not sure how to add a link to my posts. The article was about carry out food:

I agree with what he has said.. basically you should tip when you go for carry out.. at least something. I usually tip a little more than ten percent.

Carry out orders are the same as in house orders except that you don't refill their glasses. Really you take their order, put them in at the kitchen, gather the food and sauces together and make the transaction. It takes time, and most people don't like to do this job because they never get tipped out.

I will admit that before I waited tables, I didn't tip on carry out. I can imagine their scowls as I left the restaurant, annoyed that yet another customer came and left without acknowledging their hard work. But I didn't think about the work that went into it.

I'm wondering what other people do. Do you tip out carry out orders, and, if you do, how much on average? And those of you who have worked in a carry out position do you get paid minimum wage or do you get paid similar to other waiters, who rely mostly on tips for their wages. I know at my restaurant the waitresses took care of the carry out along with their other tables.

Please go and read So you want to be a waiter's blog on this topic it is much more articulate than my random rambling. He poses a much better argument than I am able to, so check it out:


read about my oh-so-personal life.

I noticed that my link to my other blog has been down for some time. But I found the problem and it's back up and running. So if you have a second stop by and take a look.

I gave it a newish direction and changed it up a little bit.

It's basically about my journey into the post-college world. Right now, I am focusing on finding a full time job. But soon, hopefully, I will be searching for a new car (my first big solo purchase), deciding whether I should rent or own or pay nothing and mooch off my parents for the rest of my life, and how I should juggle all of my bills.

If anyone has any advice or want to see what I've written about thus far (not too much as it's still a baby blog) come see me: http://ohsopersonallife.blogspot.com/


You puke, you leave

I for one have never gotten so drunk in a bar that I have puked. I have been to my fair share of parties as a teen that ended in my submission to the porcelain god. But by the time I was at the age of bar dwellers I was out of that stage. Since my experience was working at a college bar.. I saw plenty of the puke your guts out drunks.

There were always the ones who tried to hide it by going out to the farthest corner of our deck. And the lucky security guard who found it at the end of the night got the privilege of cleaning it up. There were the ones who actually make it to the bathroom. And then there's my favorite story:

We have one manager that is female. She is pretty tough, which is why she was promoted. Well, one night she was standing at the end of the bar with a security guard. And some guy casually walked past them with his hand covering his mouth. Nobody thought much of it until we saw chunks flying from between his fingers. He was on his way to the men's room which is right next to the bar.. genius designers.. but didn't quite make it.

The security guard is covered in puke and suddenly turns from tough guy to pansy as he makes a pukey face himself. I don't blame him.. I would have gotten sick if someone puked all down my back. So he was sent home. And the manager was left to clean up the wall he puked on.

We have a rule that makes a lot of sense. You puke, you leave- no exceptions. While our female manager is wiping up the puke covered walls someone taps her on her shoulder.

Pukey's friend: He's actually not that drunk. He just isn't feeling well. Do you think he could just stay here with us?

Female Manager: I assume your talking about the guy whose puke I am cleaning up?

Pukey's friend: Well... yeah... um...

Female Manager: No, he's out.

This is my favorite story because of the audacity of pukey's friend to ask the person who is cleaning up puke from the walls and the floor if the person who made this pukefest mess can stay. Also, the security man who practically ran out the door to go home to change and shower probably would have had something to say at pukey's friend's request.


New years highs and lows

I spent my first New Years -in what seems like a lifetime- on the customer side of the bar. And I spent the first night out -in what seems like a lifetime- at a bar other than the one I worked at. The result was obviously slower service and less people to mingle with.

The martini bar offset slow service with a good attitude, which was refreshing. It's nice to be smiled at and hearing thank you after leaving a tip. I always did those things as a bartender (well not so much the smiling but I was like twenty times busier than this bar was.. but definitely the thank you. No matter how busy I was I always thanked someone for a tip.)

Having less people to mingle with was actually a good thing. At the college bar pretty much every person knows you from you serving them, especially after you've worked there for a few years. You don't have time to enjoy the conversations with the people you've ventured to the bar with. In fact, usually they move on with the rest of your group while your stuck back chatting with a customer. I'm not sure why the customers feel the need to stop you and talk to you. It's like .. I spend enough time dealing with you when I'm at work.. please let me enjoy my night off by talking to the people that I choose to talk to. So, it was nice being able to chat with the group I came with.

After midnight we ventured over to college bar (my previous employer) and I realized why I hate bars. I'm so used to being protected by the the rotting green tile that I forgot what it was like on the other side of a crowded bar. People think that they can touch you as you pass them. People think that they can creepily come up and talk to you like they are your new bff. Without the rotting green square of protection I felt naked and vulnerable. And I didn't like it one bit.