Seriously, how hard can it be? I sometimes wonder whether people are truly so self-absorbed and unaware, or if they are truly douchebags. Let’s examine two scenarios, but first, some background.

I work in a bar called the Village Idiot. Even before I started working there, I always told people that the Idiot has the best pizza and the second best wings in town. The best wings are at Calloway’s, but you’re a lot less likely to get stabbed at the Idiot, and the difference in the wings is small enough that I recommend the Idiot. We’re nothing fancy, just a college bar with a typical bar menu. I do a bit of everything there: cooking, working the door, barbacking, and bartending on occasion. I don’t wait tables and I don’t do deliveries. Nothing against waiting tables at all, I just do better with that on a fine dining level, not in a bar.

I don’t know how most of you feel about tipping on pick up orders at restaurants. I realize that very little actual “service” appears to be involved, but the kitchen still has to take the time to correctly prepare the order and try to time it so that it is still nice and hot when you get it. In most places (or the places where I’ve worked, at least) the tips on take out orders go straight to the kitchen staff. This is the main reason I’m writing this tonight. I just got home from an unusually busy Wednesday night shift in the kitchen. I was scheduled to close, which I love, because it means I drink for free after midnight (I’m a bit of a whore for free drinks.) Now, back to the scenarios.

Scenario Numero Uno:

It is 12:35 AM. You walk into the bar to place a take-out order. Why didn’t you call ahead and place it so that you would have already had it by now? I don’t know. It is painfully obvious that the kitchen is all but closed. Items are being wrapped up and surfaces are being wiped down. You ignore this completely, and ask for a menu.

The extremely handsome and charming guy behind the counter waits patiently while you change your order three times. He is still smiling, although he is developing a bit of a twitch in his left eye. You finally settle on two of the most complicated specialty pizzas on the menu, are incredibly rude and demand that it be prepared as quickly as possible, since you are in a hurry. Then, when paying, you do not leave even a penny of a tip on this $28.00 order. When told it will be at least fifteen minutes before the food is ready, you mutter something under your breath.

I heard you, asshole. I have incredible hearing.

Scenario Numero Dos:

It is 12:35 AM. You walk into the bar to place a take-out order. Why didn’t you call ahead and place it so that you would have already had it by now? Because you’re drunk, but friendly drunk. It is painfully obvious that the kitchen is all but closed. Items are being wrapped up and surfaces are being wiped down. You apologize for the inconvenience, and say that is okay if the kitchen is closed.

When the extremely handsome and charming guy behind the counter says not to worry about it, he has to make another order anyway, you beam him a huge smile and go buy him a beer at the bar. You also ask what is the most convenient for him to prepare. He tells you “No worries, I’ll make anything you need.” You still order a ridiculously easy pizza and tip him $6.00 on a $12.00 order. You say “No rush, I’ll be at the bar drinking, just yell at me when it’s ready. Do you need another beer?”

Does anyone want to guess which individual received extra toppings, a larger pizza than ordered, and got the order first?

If you guessed the douchebag in Scenario Numero Uno, you are retarded. Go kill yourself now and do the world a favor.

If you guessed Scenario Numero Dos, you are correct. Go eat some ice cream and pat yourself on the back. Unless, of course, you are lactose intolerant. In that case, substitute another tasty treat for the ice cream. Maybe even put a gold star sticker on your shirt. Go nuts with it.

Honestly, even if the jackass in Scenario Numero Uno had tipped me decently, and the nice drunk lady in Scenario Numero Dos had not, I still would have given her preferential treatment, just because she knows how to treat other people like human beings. While I have no aversion to making money, I do have a gigantic aversion to douchebags, assholes, and the music of Michael McDonald.

Seriously, kids. Just don’t be a dick. I know it’s clichéd as hell, but that Golden Rule you grandmother taught you? It holds water. Treat others the way you want to be treated…because karma is a cruel bitch.

JT out.