Back a few phases of life, there was a pop at an inopportune time. The pop was notable both for its volume and discomfort, not to mention the inopportune timing. It turned straight scary when it shorted out the plumbing works, and I actually raced to the doctor as quickly as possible.
After the most invasive exam possible, the guy said, "nothing happened, you're probably just stressed. Take it easy for a while and, uh, Mr Happy [no kidding] will be back to normal." He cracked a joke about needing to buy me dinner, and I left before straying from what I considered the high road. Better off just not coming back.
A couple weeks later, he walked into the restaurant when it was my turn for a table. After a mutual double-take, I gave him pure maple treatment: everything he wanted, including things his wife felt guilty to ask for, and I looked away as they finger fed each other. I figured that this guy, of just about anyone in the world, would give me a decent tip.
But no, he hit 10% by a just-barely margin.
Typically, I'd think something like, 'and I didn't even sneeze on your food.' But my mind flashed to his wife sucking on his finger. That finger. Right before he turned his head and saw me trying very hard not to be disgusted.
Not to justify the mind of the non-tipper, but maybe, just maybe, this guy looked up and realized that nothing I could do to the food could possibly taint it more than allowing him to eat it, especially with the finger he was watching his wife work on.
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