I'm addicted to tips

There's nothing more fulfilling than accepting the generosity of a relative stranger

Tips.
(Image credit: iStock)

I started working in food service when I was 16 years old. I bussed tables. I would steady my bus bin on my knees and move the waitress' tips under the steak sauce. I did a quick count of what I thought was there while I wiped down the table — the bills splayed open like a deck of cards. Sometimes, I could feel the waitress watching me, itching to get back and inspect the amount. Would she make rent this month? Would she be able to go out tonight? Would she buy that new toy for her kid? The details of her life hung on the generosity of relative strangers. Were they giving or were they greedy?

I loved seeing the waitress' delight when someone gave a much bigger tip than expected. It was like they had won the lottery. The amount didn't really matter. An additional $5 or $10 or even $20 wasn't going to radically alter their financial state. But, in that moment, and the ones that followed, it altered their idea of the goodness in the common man. That's what I loved, and it's what got me addicted to being tipped myself.

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Kelly Green

Kelly Green is a writer living in Iowa. She has written for The Billfold, Mom.me, and more. She occasionally tweets @kellygreeeeeen. (That's 6 e's because her name, while cute, is anything but unique.)