“It’s because we’re the comedians,” he said.“So! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means comics are notoriously bad tippers.”
“We are?” I said.
“Well, I’m not and you’re not, but most are. That’s why nobody wants to wait on comics. She drew the short straw.”
“Y’all are the comics, right?” We nodded. “You don’t get a check.”
“Oh thanks,” my Husband said. “Can we please have some coffee?”
“Sure,” she said – sans smile – rolling her eyes as she walked away.
“See. I told you. She’s acting that way because we’re the comics.”
“That’s not an excuse for shabby service?” I said, my eyebrow still arched dangerously high as if to keep pace with my blood pressure.
“No, but it explains it. Waitresses work for tips and comics don’t tip.”
“Well, I wouldn’t either for this kind of treatment.”
“All it takes is one comic to mess it up,” he said, pleading her case like a defense attorney.