Dear Crappy Waitress Job;

When we first began seeing each other three years ago, everything was fabulous. The work-load wasn't too extreme, the clientel was... variable but generally pretty good. The tips were included on meals, but extra for drinks, but at least there was a decent guarantee of going home with a certain amount every single night. By the middle of our first year together, we had let go of that guarantee in order to bring in more business. I resisted at first, but soon found that it made only a little difference in our relationship and my wallet, so I held on. Also, the promise that this included gratuity would return every holiday season, and with larger group bookings, kept my hope and loyalty alive.

During the summer months of each of these years, we have taken vacations from each other to ensure our relationship doesn't grow stale. These trips only lasted two weeks or so, which allowed us time apart to grow fond of each other, perhaps even miss each other just a little bit. I always came back to you, knowing you could help support me and my grocery habits, and accommodate my school schedule.

Over the last year or so, things have been rough. Management competency has dwindled, and with it the clients, the business, and the tips. I would blame the economy, but that isn't really the whole problem. You recently lost your entire kitchen staff and I sympathize with this loss. But then you hired a slew of new (and unneccessary) waitstaff along with the new kitchen staff. You stopped calling me in order to ensconce this new staff; you placed our long-standing relationship on the back burner. Ten weeks I waited for your call for naught. I began to think that maybe we were through; you had found a new love and it was time for me to move on. Then, yesterday, I called you just to check in, and you asked me to come. I was nervous, but still excited as it had been so long since I had seen you.

When I arrived, I learned of some changes to policy, packages, and general ideals and I have to tell you: You have reached a new low. Removing the gratuity from the show/dinner package may bring in the clients, but it will send out the waiters. People who are not presented with a bill at the end of an evening will certainly not remember to shell out a gratuity on a dinner paid for days, weeks, or even months in advance. And while most of the clients we have are delightful people, I cannot pay rent using pleasant company of strangers. Last night, having served over twenty five patrons, I went home with just over $50. After doing the math, I realized that this package has actually cost ME $40. After the requisite 20% tip-out to the wonderful bartender, sub-par food expediter, and non-existent busser.

You promise that the package will go into remission come September, that this is a temporary measure to ensure that your staff remains "employed." Funny, for ten weeks I was "employed" with no work, and in return essentially lost money for coming in.

I am not sure what I'm going to do with you. You haven't always been delightful to me, you've caused me anxiety, you've treated my friends like dirt, and now you've begun to actually cost me income. I have already committed to coming in this evening. There is a distinct possibility that this will be our last rendez-vous. If I didn't have a wedding to pay for I would have told you to hit the skids last night right before service began. Further, it seems rude to walk away from you when my manager is on vacation; it feels cowardly. Thus, I will see you tonight, likely for the last time.

We've had some laughs, we've had good times, but all that ended within our first six months together. It's time to say good-bye and let go of each other with love. I hope you will be very happy.

Sincerely,
Me.