The Rip-off Tip-off

I messaged Paul soon after we matched on Bumble because I can never quite seem to resist a blonde, herculean gentleman complete with a healthy beard and an Adonis-like figure. Clearly, I have a type.

Paul wasted no time in replying and before I knew it we had set a date for the following Wednesdayto have dinner at a swanky new restaurant called The Upland in the Gramercy district of NYC.

When I arrived at the restaurant Paul was patiently waiting for me near the hostess stand and I was pleased to discover that his appearance had exceeded my expectations. He was just as delectable looking in the flesh as on my iPhone screen.

Paul and I were seated at a table that was in a slightly awkward position smack in the middle of the restaurant. He mentioned that he would like to ask to sit at another table, but given the fact that the restaurant was at full capacity with a line out the door, we decided our table would do just fine.

After sipping on some stiff Manhattans and Pisco Sours, we put an order in for a salmon tartar, hummus crostini and a pear and endive salad followed by a beef short rib that we decided to split with a side of ratatouille.

Though Paul seemed to be a lovely human being (especially to look at), I didn’t sense that there was much going on between his ears as we began discussing the movies that we had recently viewed.

“Last week I watched a really good movie called ‘Frost/Nixon’ about the Watergate scandals,” I said.

“Oh. I don’t know what that is,” he replied, puzzled.

“You know, the whole thing that caused president Nixon to leave  office?”

“Ummm….not sure what you are referring to.”

Despite his blatant ignorance for American history, the dinner was lovely as well as the company. Though I wasn’t completely head over heels for Paul at that particular moment, he did ask me to join him again for drinks the following weekend and I thought it was worth another shot.

Paul paid the bill, and like a gentleman assisted me in putting on my jacket.

Immediately after we exited the restaurant to get into a taxi our waitress came running after us shouting Paul’s name with the billfold in hand. Paul seemed to scurry into the cab, but thinking he forgot his credit card or to sign the bill I waited outside the car to see what the fuss was about.

The sweet and very attentive waitress looked rather perturbed as she held up the credit card receipt and leaned into the car to speak to Paul.

“You know Mr. Paul, I am very sorry that you weren’t  satisfied with the table you were given but if you were that upset about it you could have asked the hostess to be moved. I do not have any say on where people are seated in the restaurant so punishing me for it just isn’t fair. I hope you have a wonderful evening.”

She handed me the credit card receipt and indignantly marched back to work.

Confused, I read the receipt and then figured out the reason for her outright fury.

On the line where the tip should have been there was a big fat ‘0’ and next to it Paul had written,  “Service was great but we had the worst table in the house!”

I retreated back into the restaurant and left the waitress $30 in cash. She graciously thanked me for the tip and I thanked her for tipping me off that Paul was a complete asshole.

Thankfully,  the taxi had left by the time I returned.

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