He looks at me, grabs a napkin, and scribbles something down quickly.
Without a word, he slides it across the table and walks away.
Curious, I glance at the napkin.
Scrawled in sharp handwriting:
“Next time, try tipping the person who actually served you.”
I sat there for a second, stunned.
I thought about how I hadn’t seen him again after ordering — but it was him who had brought the water, checked on my food from across the room, and even swapped out my cold fries without me asking.
I’d tipped nothing.
And just like that, I realized: good service isn’t always loud.
