Only once in my entire adult life have I refused to leave a tip at a restaurant.
Yes, I may be overly forgiving. A timid customer, even. But when a server at a busy Brooklyn brunch spot so carelessly flung my dining companion’s croque monsieur that it slid straight off the table and into his lap—and, not even pausing for a beat, then turned and walked away without so much as a flinch of recognition at what she’d done—my resolve was broken. I flagged her down a few minutes later, and simply gestured with a shrug to the cheese-stained person sitting across from me; she rolled her eyes and brought over a fistful of napkins. We paid in full, no gratuity—but I still felt bad for the bussers.
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