So you're having an affair in a distant city. It's her birthday, you take her to her favorite Portland restaurant. You at first order a $33.00 bottle of wine, saying "I don't know why... I just want this one." You didn't realize it was a half bottle (duh, you transparent shmuck), and then after being flustered and realizing you're being a cheap ass, you select a bottle of Ken Wright Pinot Noir ($125).
Nice choice, your server says. You give a half smile as though to say "I'm just a classy guy... It comes naturally to me."
You decide to try the tasting menu. Your server spends copious amounts of time explaining the dishes, decanting your wine, making sure the lady gets bubbly (on the house) and a candle in her tart.
The bill arrives. Of course, you pay. You examine the final charge. $250. That's almost all of your allowance!!!!! Oh well, you'll just pretend you can't do math and tip $30, plus a compliment on the way out: "Thanks for the greeeeeeaaaaaaat service. Really wonderful."
"GET OUT! Screams your before friendly server.
But I was am so smooth and have such impeccable taste- where did I go wrong?
The public service announcement for the day is that nothing makes you look worse than being cheap in the end with your server. Especially if you are trying to act like a big shot, drinking fancy pants wine like you can afford it. We remember forever.
ps Obviously, I'm not fired. My hobby, hating customers, is still going strong.
pps Guess who's being Santa's elf helper today? That's right, it's me, boxing up (in my MOUTH) chocolates for xocolatl de david!!! I'll take photos of the workshop.