No Tip, No Lunch

1895

It was in an up town restaurant, a high priced one, where many men take luncheon and breakfast and many women meals at various times in the day.

The writer was sitting at the "quick lunch" counter the other day when a young man entered, took his place and asked one of the white aproned men behind the counter to serve him coffee and hard boiled eggs. The man looked at the newcomer a moment, and then, in a tone to which no objection could be taken, said:

"I am sorry, but you must go up stairs. I cannot serve you here."

"But you served me here yesterday," came the protesting reply.

"Yes," was the waiter's answer, "but you were here 15 minutes earlier."

The waiter, as the man disappeared, turned to three or four of his colleagues, and believing the writer unable to understand German said:

"Well, I 'got even' with him anyhow. Had he given me 10 cents yesterday I should have served him today. But I'll not put myself out to help a man who will not help me."

The moral of the story is: If you expect to go twice to a New York restaurant, you would better "tip" your waiter. — New York Tribune.


Evolution

Out of the dusk a shadow,
Then a spark;
Out of the cloud a silence,
Then a lark;
Out of the heart a rapture,
Then a pain;
Out of the dead, cold ashes,
Life again.

— John B. Tabb.

Tipping the Butcher

1901

Did you ever buy your own steaks and get the worst in the shop nearly every time? An old friend has had that misfortune, and he is always willing to pay two or three cents more a pound than any other customer. Having listened calmly to his tale of woe, I inquired if he had acquired the practice of tipping the butcher. Tipping the butcher? No! He thought It was a sufficient tip to offer the two or three cents more a pound. "That offer," I tried to explain, "goes to the proprietor direct, or his block man thinks you are trying to make a thief of him by inducing him to hold out for himself the extra price. It will never work.

"Just say to your cutter: 'See here, old chap, I've been dissatisfied with my steaks for some time. Come out and take a drink, and tell me how to select good meat.' He's too busy. Then slip a dime into his hand and say, 'Have a glass of beer when you get out,' or a quarter and say, 'Have a smile with me when you have time.' Repeat this performance and presently your steaks are the delight of home. In the busiest private market in New York it is the rule to tip the butchers. You can get nothing fit to eat without it." — New York Press.