My New Bestest Friend, Pedro

This weekend was/is the Chile and Frijole festival which means that the downtown area is taken over, parking sucks, and the bar gets very busy. I have been not looking forward to it for about a month, but now it is over and it wasn't so bad as I feared. Granted, there were those folks who I would have preferred stayed home, but what can one do? Besides, I found myself in a freakishly good mood today and it refused to abate, even after the whole affair with Pedro.

Pedro comes in with a few other people. He opens a tab and buys lots of drinks for him and the people he came in with. Pedro then joins another table which is all guys and proceeds to buy more drinks. He's very smiley, very chipper, and asks me my name and astrological sign twice. A few hours go buy, during which he runs up a $120 tab, tells me that his buddy thinks I'm *something involving being a superlative thing on two legs, I forget exactly what* and tells me how wonderful I am, how I've taken such great care of them, etc. After the first few times I'm wonderful, my Spidey sense gets tingling, and I start to think that Pedro is going to leave a crappy tip.

The other guys at the table are also running a tab, and drinking much slower than my new best friend Pedro. The guy who's apparently in love with me is nice enough, but says Pedro is putting words in his mouth. I bring them all a pitcher of water and am once again the greatest waitress in the world.

At one point the gal who Pedro has bought drinks for but is no longer sitting with comes up to me and tells me to close out Pedro's tab:
Me: Well, it's his tab, I need to make sure he's ready to close it.
Pedro's cousin: I'm his cousin and we want to get him out of here and you should've stopped serving him two drinks ago anyway.
Me: If he wants to close his tab, I'll close it.
Pedro's cousin is not happy with me. She's also not paying me. I'm inclined not to care. Pedro's not ready to leave. A while later Pedro's cousin corners Sophia and says something about how I'm a bad waitress and I've served her cousin too much alcohol, irresponsibility, etc. Julia pulls me aside: "Is there a problem? You need my help?"
Me: "Nah, I'm good. I'm ignoring her now and she's not trying to push it any further."

Pedro's cousin sits quietly until Pedro is ready to go. He and his buddies ask for their tabs. I run Pedro's credit card and pick up the slip before he leaves (Spidey sense, remember?) expecting blanks where he was supposed to fill in the tip and total. I was close, instead of writing numbers, he wrote squiggles. I show it to John, "Can you read that?" I snag Pedro when he walks by my station.

Me: Hey, I can't quite read your writing here. Can you tell me the amounts so I can write them in?
Pedro: What?
Me: Can you tell me what you wrote for the tip so I can do the total?
Pedro: Five dollars.
Me: A five dollar tip on a $120 tab?
Pedro: Yeah.
John (who was walking by, jumps in): Are you serious? You're only going to leave a $5 tip on a $120 tab? You know, you really shouldn't be going to bars if that's what you're going to do.
Pedro: (defensive-like) I never said I wasn't going to leave her more money. (Which, in theory would indicate he would be giving me cash, right?)

I pick up the cash for the other guys' tab - an okay tip. They all leave. Pedro leaves me no additional cash to compensate for the crap tip. But, he told me how great and wonderful and super fantastico I am a million times. Apparently, he prefers to tip in compliments rather than cash.

I mention Pedro's deceit to John, 'cause he wanted to know how it all came out.
John: You okay?
Me: Yeah, I'm fine.
John: Not upset?
Me: No, not so much. I saw it coming, and he was entertaining. The entertainment value helps make up for it.
John: Really?
Me: Yup. I'm in a good mood tonight.

Of course, now that we know who Pedro is, if he should deign to return to our humble establishment we'll be able to see him coming. The special part about running a tab and using a credit card is now we even know his name. Still, like I told John, I'm not particularly angry at being given a roughly 5% tip as thanks for "wonderful" service. I think I'm either getting used to the cheapskates or I have a severe chemical inbalance in my brain. Maybe I need to get me some pills. The colorful kind.