Saturday, October 8, 2011

The Moral Fiber of a Man

I date frequently and I usually only date from those I find online. I have an unheralded success rate for dating ONLY from meeting guys on line. Talk to them long enough, you can really get a feel for someone. I was also trained, by working for a high profile dating site, how to spot scammers, which has served me well in detecting the language and verbiage of ppl I'm in contact with.

Something else that is a HUGE 'tell' of a person is how they treat people.

Ghandi was quoted as saying, "The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated."

*I* say, "The greatness of the person you're dining with and their moral progress can be judged by the way they treat the servers."

Case in point: I had lunch one afternoon with someone at the Olive Garden. Our server was at our elbows, keeping us up on the progress of the lunch we ordered, keeping our bread sticks, salad and drinks CONSTANTLY refilled and anything we needed at all, at our fingertips. Totally anticipating our every request or whim.

The man I was with had been married for 48 years. His wife had just passed a couple of months previously from alzheimers. The man bad-mouthed this blessed wife (who *I* guessed had gone away from her mind so she wouldn't have to put up with this idiot, as she probably didn't recognize divorce or hitting him in the back of the head with a shovel as options.

The man ate hunched over, jamming huge quantities of food in his mouth and then talking around that same food so I was privvy to his consumption and progress of his mastication of same food.

At the end of the meal, when the check came, I quietly cast my eyes as best as I could on how much of a tip this jerk left for an over $30 set of meals. He left $2.

When he was finished, and darted off to the 'little boys room to take a dump.' (Oh, you sweet talker, you!), I got into my purse and I very rarely EVER carry cash, but for some reason that day, I had a $5 bill with me. And I laid it on the table.

When he came back and I guess had success on his mission, we were ready to leave. And I added the cash into the folding bill-thing and he asked me why. And I told him.

I'm not a cheap person. I have been part of the 'wait staff brigade' and know how much a server is paid, which isn't much. It's all tip-dependent and in cash, it can be slipped by as undeclared income (and with the political jerking about, I'm all for slip-sliding past bureaucracy and the laws of the money-changers (from my hand to theirs).

But I will NOT date a cheap and oblivious butthead.

And once I worked for a bunch of radiologists in a huge metropolitan hospital. We went to the big sit-down banquet and each person that served me, I got their name and looked them in the eye.

When I needed ANYTHING, all I had to do is look up, see the person and quietly say their name. I was served as if I were a Queen. (Ok, I've always been a princess ruling with kindness and respect of whoever served me.. LOL) But the Rads (radiologists) couldn't get service as fast and as well as I did. They quizzed me about it and I said, "how many names of the people serving us tonight do you know?" The answer was "None." as they were invisible entities who quietly handled everything the doctor's hearts desired. Yet no respect was exchanged. That's so darn sad, to me.

Anyway, enough of that rant..
have a fabulous rest of the week, weekend and beyond..

Bekki

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