Dad Tips the Waitress

For the first time in my life,
I noticed how Dad paid a restaurant bill.
I had been watching him silently
on our long trip.

We ate dinner in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
The waitress cleared the table
and came back with the bill.
Dad pulled out his credit card
and examined the bill.
I asked him how much he tipped the waitress.
He turned the bill around
and moved it across the table
so I could look at it.
He showed me the individual prices
for the food and drinks,
and the grand total for everything.
He pointed to the grand total and said,
“I tip 15 percent of that amount.”

Dad could do math problems in his head.
He already knew the exact amount
of the tip, to the penny.

Also on the bill was a four percent tax
for the state of Wyoming,
and an additional two percent tax
for Teton County. He said,
“I don’t tip for state and local taxes.
The government had nothing to do with this meal.
The state and county get nothing.”

NOTE: I was a 19-year-old college sophomore at the time. Dad was a conservative Republican with an uncompromising contempt for all forms of government above the local level. The fact he was shorting the waitress did not trouble him.