Heather waited at the counter while the new manager counted out her tips for the evening.
“87.23,” said the manager.
“Excuse me?”
“87.23, that’s all your tips for the night.”
“I did the math as I went. It should be 119.34”
“How do you know? I just counted.”
“I’m good with numbers.”
“Well, I’m not recounting this, so you can take the 87.23 or leave with noth—.”
Before the manager had finished his sentence, Heather had snatched up an oversized chocolate chip cookie from the counter and shoved it into his mouth. She then grabbed his collar and pulled him inches from her face while simultaneously picking up a fork and pressing it into his right peck, first lightly, then with more pressure.
“Count it again,” she said in a low, controlled voice, her eyes threatening more severe harm.
The new manager nodded. It was his 5th day on the job and first evening with Heather. He’d report her later, but right now he just wanted to prevent himself from choking on the cookie.
He counted again.
“118.74,” he whimpered.
Good enough she said, shoveling the cash into her purse before marching out the door.
Later, when he reported the incident, the restaurant owner informed him that the last manager, a large and intimidating man with gang tattoos, had been skimming 5% of Heather’s tips off the top for the last 6 months.
“Why didn’t you do anything about it?”
“She didn’t tell me till recently. Then I fired him.”
“So, that’s why she’s so sensitive about it.”
“Yeah, and she told me to hire a skinny guy like you as the replacement so she could ensure the skimming would stop.”
“Well hell, I guess I’m getting injury and insult tonight.”
“Just don’t miss count her tips and you’ll be fine.”
“I’ll triple check it next time, but I’m quitting if she lays a hand on me again.”
“Fair enough…and oh, you still got some cookie crumbs on your lip. Better brush those off.”