Today, I went to a Chinese buffet for lunch with my friend, Eric. When the bill came, I asked him what he was going to leave as a tip.
Eric: I’m gonna write ‘CASH’ in the tip line… but not leave any money.
Now, normally this would be a semi dick move, but it was a Chinese buffet; all they did was take our plates every time we got up, which I could’ve done, if there was a bucket or something for me to throw them into, or a lady with a hunchback to rest them on. They didn’t even refill our waters; you actually have to do work for me to leave you some money.
I had never straight out stiffed someone before, I didn’t know what to expect. We both wrote ‘CASH’ in the tip line and, just as he said, we dipped out. (PS, if you work in a restaurant, or just think this is a wrong move to do in general… I am aware of it, most people who know me probably aren’t even phased by this. So save your “You’re a meanie!” comments, and dish them elsewhere… cause we’re not having any!)
On the walk back to the car, came the funniest thing I’ve seen this month.
This older Asian guy comes storming out of the back door, saying all kinds of shit and holding our receipts up.
“You write cash, but leave no cash! You write cash, but leave no cash!”
Is this what happens every time you stiff someone?
Eric walked over to the guy to examine the receipts.
Eric: Hmm, yeah man I don’t know… that’s weird.
Me: I put down cash… I’m not sure what happened to it.
“You write cash, but leave no cash!”
Eric: Maybe there’s some in the car…
We got in the car, and peeled out of the parking lot like we owned the joint. Stiffing people is kind of exhilarating.
I won’t try to explain our reasoning behind stiffing this poor guy. I’ll just insert a quote from Dwight K Schrute from The Office to convince you:
“Why pay someone for a job I’m capable of doing myself? I can deliver food. I can and do cut my own hair. I did however tip my urologist, because… I am unable to pulverize my own kidney stones.”
If that doesn’t have you convinced… then, I’m out of ideas; go cry in the shower.
Usually every bad deed I do to people goes unpunished, I’m just lucky; but today, I guess I was not so lucky.
I came home from the gym, expecting my roommate to be gone so I could masturbate in the kitchen in peace and not have him stepping over me every 10 seconds. Instead, he was here, and there was a notice magnetted to our white board.
*Notice of Electricity Shutoff*
Basically, in the long ramblings-of which I had to go look up words in the dictionary like “payment” and “overdue” because I had no idea what they meant-it said that I hadn’t paid in 3 months and I owed 200 bucks by the end of the month, or I was going to be on the fast track to reading by candlelight and having to go buy nude magazines because my laptop would die and I wouldn’t be able to stream Redtube videos anymore.
(So far, two masturbating references in this post; not a record… but not very common when talking about your electric bill.)
I dial customer service, and immediately press 0 as this usually yields the best results.
“NStar electric how can I help you?”
I explain to her that I’ve been paying my bills, yet I got this notice saying my shit is getting shut off.
“OK sir, I can’t do anything about that, you’re going to have to be transferred to billing.”
*Cue holding music for ten minutes*
Now, normally I don’t complain about holding, because sitting on the phone is really not that big of a problem. People all over the place have worse problems than I do; look at Mississippi… everyone there has problems… LOTS of problems.
With ‘Billing’ now in my ear, I explained again my situation.
“Sir, it says here that your payments didn’t go through and that’s why we haven’t received any payments.”
HOLY SHIT, REALLY?! The reason you haven’t been getting my payments is because they didn’t go through? Are you sure that they went through and someone who works at your company didn’t delete it every single time because they have a personal vendetta against me?
“Of course that’s why,” I began saying, “but I want to know WHY they didn’t go through.” (Even though it may sound like it, I was being pleasant to her. Well, as pleasant as I can be, which probably isn’t that pleasant.)
“Well, I can’t help you with that; I need to transfer you to credit.”
Once again I am ear raped by their choice of holding music-the opera-but this time, it was for a solid 15 minutes. In the time I spent waiting, I:
-made a post workout smoothie
-did the dishes (read: threw dirty plates into my neighbors lawn)
-checked my e-mail, sent off a myspace message to some random girl asking if she wanted to come over and let me empty my balls on her sweater
-booked concert tickets
-sent off another message to the girl saying “JK LOL. MY BAD, YO!”
-deleted my myspace (to save Tom the trouble of doing it himself).
“NStar Electric, how can I help you?”
“Hi, listen… I need to figure out why my payments have not been going through…”
“Hm, let’s see… Yeah, it says you’re overdue for the last 3 months.”
“Yes. Thank you. I need to know why, and HOW I can fix this issue.”
I was pretty sure she was just going to start humming the Looney Tunes theme song, because everyone at this company sounded as useful as Gary Busey after a bottle of Wild Turkey. However, she surprised me with a legitimate answer:
“It says ‘insufficient funds’… So, I guess you just didn’t have any money.”
At this point, I began thinking what applying for NStar electric must be like.
Boss: Hello. What’s you’re name?
Guy: Joe Smith.
The boss holds up a shoe: Joe… What is this?
Joe: A baby?
Boss: Close enough… you’re hired.
My patience was growing thin, one more ridiculous comment, and I was going to lose it.
“OK, what’s the bank account number on there?” I asked.
She told me what bank account it was, and since I had closed that account 6 months ago, was the reason for my delinquent payment notices. I felt like we were making progress.
“Well, I need to enter in my new bank account number.”
“I don’t handle that sir; we need to transfer you to billing.”
Sadly, before I could educate this woman on her shortcomings and why she should kick the chair out from under herself when she goes home, she quickly transferred me to Billing, who answered fairly quickly.
“NStar electric ho-”
“I need to enter in a new bank account for my payments!” I shouted into my handset.
I gave her my account info, while simultaneously shaking a metaphorical baby.
“Ok, it says here you have an overdue balance of-”
“I AM AWARE OF MY OVERDUE BALANCE! I just need to enter in my new bank account information!!”
“OK, well it says you have a recurring payment scheduled…”
“Right…” I calmed down; I sensed the conversation moving in a positive direction.
“Well, I don’t handle recurring payments… You need to talk to Credit for that.”
“I was JUST on the phone with credit. They sent me here!”
“Well sir, you can call them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Why tomorrow?”
“They’re closed now.”
Aaaaaaaand… there goes my patience.
“WHAT THE FUCK. I WAS JUST ON THE PHONE WITH THEM! LIKE TWO SECONDS AGO, THEY TRANSFERRED ME TO YOU!!! WHY DID THEY DO THAT?”
“I’m not sure sir…” So smug; if she was here right now I would strangle her with a copper wire and shove her in my freezer.
“WELL, HOW CAN YOU HELP ME THEN?! WHAT DO YOU DO? WHAT IS YOUR JOB?!? WHY WOULD ONE NEED TO SPEAK WITH YOU!?!?!”
“I handle bill payments… would you like to pay your bill? You ARE overdue.”
I will admit, she was getting under my skin, and she was enjoying it. She wasn’t snapping back, which irritated me even more.
“HOLY SHIT! LISTEN! I.NEED.TO.SPEAK.WITH.YOUR.MAN.A.GERRRRRRRR!”
“Let me transfer you…”
At this time, my roommate was in the room, laughing hysterically at my outbursts. I wasn’t hearing any elevator music; I took my phone away from my ear; on the screen was only my background. She had hung up on me.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I screamed into my phone, “I’m calling these fucking zeros back!”
I dialed the number:
“NStar electric is now closed.”
I’m not really that upset anymore, whenever I’m mad, it’s only for like one full minute after the incident, then I immediately stop caring. But I know that when I send in my check to NStar for the bill… I’m going to write:
CASH.
Author: John MacGregor
