It's just money in a jar...right?

Or maybe it's not.

Maybe there's another reason for a person taking a dollar, or two, or three out of their wallet, and putting it into my tip jar. And although I'll never really know the science behind tipping, I've begun to understand that it's not as simple as I once thought it to be.


I'll start with the average person's idea of a tip: the basic tip. Customer(s) orders a drink, I make it for them, they drop a buck in the tip jar, everybody's happy. I appreciate this kind of tip the most, simply because the customer clearly acknowledges my role in their quest for whatever night they're trying to have. They realize that I'm not standing there simply for their viewing pleasure, but in fact have a purpose! Unfortunately, I realized rather quickly that the "basic tip" concept had to be modified. There is an upper limit for a "basic tip." For example, if a guy purchases a $3 beer that only requires me removing the cap and leaves me more than a dollar in my tip jar, then it starts to get complicated. Typically, if people tip, they leave approximately 20% of the drink price. Most customers round up from sixty cents on a three dollar beer to a one dollar tip. But leaving more than that? That's grounds for my next kind of tip.

The ulterior motive tip is shady. This is when people leave me an abnormally high tip on a drink that did not warrant it. This kind of tip is usually left by the single men that are stupid enough to think that they can pick up the bartender. Every weekend it baffles me that men think that highly of themselves to believe that I will drop everything in my life, (including leaving my husband,) to date them. I've noticed that there is a strategy that comes along with leaving the "ulterior motive tip." Usually, they'll begin the evening tipping with the "basic tip." After scoping out the female situation in the club and they realize that there's no one to their liking, that's when they come back to me and ask me my name. They'll order a beer, or a mixed drink and tip about 50% of the cost, shoot me a smile, and say "thanks, Ally," making sure I heard that they got my name down. They'll come back several more times throughout the night, increasing the amount they tip exponentially, (I haven't determined if this is a symptom of mere intoxication or stupidity,) and finally go in for the kill about an hour before closing time. I get asked out, he gets told I'm married, he feels dumb, drunk and broke, I go home happy with his money.


Now, I'm not trying to scare men away from picking up women at clubs. It happens all the time. Some go home happy, some don't. For the guys whom are successful at getting females to dance all night, there are a few who end up having problems around 1AM when they realize that they bought a particular female way too much alcohol, and don't want to be responsible for her puking all over the place, falling down, or forgetting her underwear...somewhere. This is when they come to see me. I call this one the get me out of here tip. Usually, they bring the girl to the bar with them and order her water. They typically keep drinking alcohol...because, well...who wants to remember dealing with that mess? Now for the really interesting part! Similar to the "ulterior motive tip," I get way more put into my tip jar than the drink is worth. But this poor guy doesn't want to hit on me...he wants me to give him an out to get away from the girl who's playing with the saliva running down the side of her mouth! I'll admit, I helped a guy out once by telling him that he had left his headlights on just so he could get away from a woman. He's currently one of my regulars, and continues to tip me well on a weekly basis.


Finally, now for the kind I hate the most...the pity tip. I cannot even begin to count the number of times I've had to deal with drunk people ruining my bar set up by knocking down cups, spilling my margarita salt everywhere, spilling their drinks before they even taste them, being loud and obnoxious, and worst of all...blocking the front of my bar so that other customers can't get through. Now, the "pity tip" can come from one of two types of customers. The first would be a friend of the guy/girl who is being a pain in my ass. They are usually the designated driver, and they usually leave a nice chunk of change behind by the end of the night as their way of saying, "I'm sorry you had to deal with my drunk-ass friend." I welcome this type of pity tip because their friends are being responsible, and are aware that their friend(s) are acting like 4 year-olds, with the exception of excessive swearing and air-humping. The second way the "pity tip" can be given is by an OBSERVING customer. Sometimes others will be standing at the bar and witness other people being rowdy. Many times I've been slipped an extra couple of bucks because they feel bad that I'm a bartender. Now granted, money is money. But if I didn't want to be a bartender, I would have stayed at home. Don't give me money just because you think I could be doing something better with my time!

Clearly, I have thought about the science behind tipping way too much. However, it has helped me become a better bartender. Reading people is 80% of the job, and that is why I'm going to be a fabulous counselor in the future!

First World Problems #1: Why I have a love/hate relationship with Victoria's Secret

Although this may surprise you, it actually makes perfect sense; all of the ridiculously hot models you see gracing the pages of Victoria's Secret catalogs and posing on poster boards in their stores are hand picked by WOMEN. Yes, Victoria's Secret "Angels" are supposed to appeal to women, although they have clearly become household names because of horny boys/men who do "naked pictures of ____________" searches on their computers while their girlfriends or wives are asleep. And yes, I speak from personal experience. (Note to self, do not wake up at 2AM wanting a drink of water and randomly go into your husband's office to see what he's up to doing so late at night).

Victoria's Secret is right. I do want to look like their models. They have sex appeal. They look confident. They are airbrushed. Their breasts look fucking amazing. According to them, I CAN have those breasts if I buy their bras. So I do.

They're right. My breasts look really nice. I'm happy. My husband is certainly happy. I've even fooled several of my customers at the bar that I have implants.

The problem arises when I have to take off the bra. I remember in college a while back, I was hooking up with one of my boyfriends at the time, and in the heat of the moment, I took my bra off. He proceeded to tell me, "no, leave it on." WHAT? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? LEAVE IT ON? It's probably the equivalent of telling a guy that he has a small penis.

Dear Victoria's Secret: Although I have caved numerous times due to your impeccable marketing campaigns by purchasing hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of your bras, each time I have to take one off, I am immediately reminded that no matter how much money you spend on making your products look like they're going to solve all of my tank top, tee shirt and strapless dress problems, you have yet to design an ad campaign that makes women feel good about what they've got once the bra comes off. I resent you for this.

My husband will never do a google search for Adriana Lima again.

The Void

Oh, the obligatory first post. I'm having a flashback to my high school dancing days, where my dance teacher brought us into an empty theater and said, "this is an empty stage. How are you going to fill it?" It's an extremely complicated question for any artist, and I specifically remember staring at that stage and marveling at its size. The theater itself wasn't overly large, but the stage? In my mind, at the time, it was huge. How many bodies would it take to fill that stage? How would they have to move in such a way so that the stage was filled at all times? Ultimately, it was a trick question, as she was trying to get at a concept that is not easy for a high school student to grasp. When we began choreographing our own work, it became clear to me that sometimes a void is in fact, completely full.

Turning nothing into something is terrifying. As I sat down to write this, even before I was able to begin the first sentence, I convinced myself that this blog was a terrible idea. I am afraid, as I write this, that I will not be able to take this space, and turn it into something worthy of other people reading. I'm sure, that in 30 minutes I will have a philosophical crisis regarding what defines "worthy." All of this comes down to scrutiny. If I decide to turn this blank space into "something," that means it is subject to criticism. However, going back to the point my dance teacher was trying to make, it is possible that I don't need to be extremely profound in order to make a point. Empty space is deceiving because it is silently screaming to be filled. People usually try to fill it with something, because the unknown, or emptiness is very uncomfortable. 


When we move into a new house, we fill it with stuff. People's cubicles at work create mini shrines to their families. It appears that humans have this innate desire to create, to fill emptiness, even if others can see it. I think this drive to fill emptiness serves as a security blanket, and protects our self-esteem. Although terrifying, filling this void gives us an invisible pat on the back, so to speak, and makes us feel human, like we have a purpose.


In one of my Psychology classes last semester, we discussed "Terror Management Theory," which sounds completely fabricated due to its name, yet is related to this idea. It takes this thought a step further, and even says that people create because they are afraid of their own mortality. I urge you to read about it further here: Terror Management Theory. 

At this precise moment, I feel as though I'm entering a bad episode of The Twilight Zone. This blog is providing me with an unlimited about of blank space. What will I do with it all? I think the better question is, what will happen if I don't use it all? I think for now, I will do what I normally do when I have trouble filling this void. I will post a picture of my dog, Ella.