New word of the day, Flunkyism…
proud flunky
“Oh and this is for you”, said the man as I returned his credit card to him having removed the princely sum of £78.00 from it. No mention had been made of adding a little on for me as I processed his card so this was a joyous moment. Joyous? Probably not but I had invested some of my best lines over the nearly three hours the man and his wife had been lodging/dining in my section and had been hoping for something back in return. Quid quo pro if you will for services rendered.
He had his little coin purse out and was fiddling about in it. The purse was a homemade jobby that had clearly been made from an old bag, pair of jeans and some random printed material. It was stitched together with yellow thread and was held closed with a matching yellow zip. It was a fetching little piece of craftiness topped off with a clear square of plastic which I assumed was were a picture of the child what made the purse was meant to go. There was no picture of said child. There was however a picture of a pampered looking King Charles Spaniel with a squishy plastic bone in it’s mouth.
I know all this because the man took an age fiddling about in the tiny coin purse for my tip. I watched as he slipped the ten pound note to the side in a very poor attempt to hide it. Mook. As itchy as my palm was for some tippage having me stand there whilst he rooted round in what most people would call their penny collection was more than a touch embarrassing. But what could I do? I wanted the tip so I had to wait.
As I stood there, waiting, oh the irony I began to think on the word, Flunkyism and more specifically William Rufus Scott’s, “The Itching Palm A Study of the Habit of Tipping in America“. The opening paragraph is quite something…
“Oliver Cromwell struck a mortal blow at the universal heart of Flunkyism”, wrote Carlyle at the execution of Charles I.
Yet Flunkyism is not dead!
Tipping is the modern form of Flunkyism. Flunkyism may be defined as a willingness to be servile for a consideration. It is democracy’s deadly foe. The two ideas cannot live together except in a false peace. The tendency is always for one to sap the vitality of the other.”
Seriously, these are the things that run through my mind when I’m fake laughing to guests stories or waiting for old men to find me some brown money from the bottom of their home crafted coin purses.
But back to Flunkyism. It would be fair to say that William Rufus Scott was not a fan of tipping or those of us whose palms itch for said tips. He even advocated prosecution for those who solicited gratuities but his book was written in 1916 and times were different. Crikey, the Chums and I would be wanted by the man for crimes most horrid. We would be outlaws. Sweet.
Anyhoo, I shuffled a bit as I stood there, all flunky-like as the man continued rooting around in his coin purse. Holy medals were set on the table alongside various coins from far off lands. I wanted to sigh out loud but thought it rude. And there’s no point in being rude until you’ve had your hand crossed with silver. God I hoped it was at the very least silver. Brown money makes me and the baby jebus sad. In the end he couldn’t find small enough coins to give me so he, reluctantly handed me the ten pound note. Sweet, again.
I bade him farewell and thanked him for the tip. He sort of half grimaced half smiled. As his wife returned from the bathroom he handed her the coin purse and I shuffled on to the next table over. I couldn’t help overhear them chatting as they put layer after layer after layer on.
“Did you pay the bill?”
“Yes dear”
“Did you tip the lovely waiter?”
“Yes dear”
There was a slight pause and then, “Have you been in my purse? I could swear I had a ten pound note in it!”
“C’mon now love the taxi’s here”
Ha, who’s the flunky now?
Tipping eh, never a dull moment.
16 Comments → “New word of the day, Flunkyism…”
sweet mary sunshine, sugar! he took money from his wife’s purse, rather than tip y’all himself? bless his heart, i’ll bet he spent a good portion of the night listening to herself go on about her missing 10 pound note! xoxox
Oh i hope so. He had a wedge full of notes in his wallet. Tight sod….
Such ingenuity, looks like he’s an ex waiter, doesn’t it?
No if he really was an ex waiter he would have got the money out of her purse before he left the house. Heh
I spit upon the name of Oliver Cromwell.
Ah Mozzer, he really does get everywhere. Spotted you earlier this afternoon sporting your provo funeral-esque sunglasses look. Or were they uncle Andy-a-likes?
It’s a customer control thing. If I look like one of those fellas it inspires fear in punters of a certain age. They don’t know if they’re going to get kneecapped or a bottle of Sauv Blanc.
So I can teach my dogs to make ugly purses?
BPC: I must look into it….although I’d probably just end up looking like Johnny Adair….nobody is scared of Johnny Adair
Medbh: Bwahahahha
Manuel..heh
Could have sworn the waiter last night was sizing me up for disposal in a suitcase…..oh okay, 4 door saloon.
if you think he was then he probably was….we are very fixated on murder and all that sort of thing…..odd really
Well at €10-12 for a portion of tapas, add robbery too.
“I wanted to sigh out loud but thought it rude. And there’s no point in being rude until you’ve had your hand crossed with silver.” Swear to the skies above I was rolling my eyes, sighing and laughing my head off all at the same time! I thought my coin-purse man of the late-80′s was bad, but this asshat rifling through his wife’s wins the chisler award!
Sounds like el crappo to me AnFearBui
Marty: asshat? perfect description
Sure it’s all his money anyway.
oh really? [runs of to facebook to check this information] heh