Tips Galore
by Paul Finnigan
“Congratulations
and welcome aboard, Kevin!” exclaimed Brian
Hickey, delivering a firm handshake as the two
overlooked a smoky tavern.
“Beginner’s
luck?” sighed Kevin.
“Luck of
the Irish,” boasted Brian. “Kevin O’Herlihy!
You were a shoe-in for sure. Mr. Muloine always
hires waiters with good Irish names. Claims it’s
good for business. Well lad, promised I’d
show you the ropes. Just two large fridges, one
holds the ales, the other the lagers. Only twenty
tables in the place. Serve those ten to the right.
I’ll handle the rest. Pay day at McGaren’s
Foundry should make for a busy Saturday. Muloine’s
pay isn’t great but you’ll make up for
it in tips. Sure today there’ll be tips
galore. Especially for you.”
“Oh”
replied Kevin.
“Gavin
Mahoney should be along shortly. Gavin’s the
biggest tipper in the valley. That’s his
chair over in the corner. Not reserved, but
nobody dare sit it. Gavin’s a big rawboned
farmer. Drinks Wexford lager off the shelf and
straight from the bottle. He’ll always throw
back a dozen or so. Speak of the devil, there’s
Gavin now.”
Brian
introduced the two and Kevin went about serving
Gavin throughout the afternoon without receiving
a single tip.
“Maybe he
pays one large tip when leaving Kevin said to
himself.”
Shortly
thereafter Gavin headed towards the door.
“Nice
meeting you, Mr. Mahoney,” uttered Kevin.
“Likewise,”
smiled Gavin.
“Forgive
me for being so forward, but I’d heard you’re
the biggest tipper in the valley.
“Sure it’s
all true lad,” chuckled Gavin. “But I
only tip the bottle.”
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