I went out with a couple of colleagues to a restaurant today (I'm in Washington DC) to celebrate having survived a bout of food poisoning. Well, not quite celebrate. I didn't drink because I didn't want to risk upsetting my stomach again.
"You are so lucky that you guys are done with work," our waitress informed us, "This is my second job, so here I am."
"So what do you do in your first job?," my first colleague asked, rising to the bait.
"I teach mentally disabled children, and then I come here and work four hours."
"Well, at least then you get to go back to your boyfriend, while we have to be here the rest of the week," he observed.
"Oh, I'd better not have a boyfriend," she countered, showing us her ring, "I'm married. My husband is a fire fighter. He also works two shifts."
Then while serving us the food, she informed my colleague (who she'd identified as being the most amenable to her charms) "my dad's in the military, so I'm used to being poor."
I couldn't take it any more at that point. "And I suppose you walked all the way to work today."
"Actually, yes," she said, "and my shoe lace broke.". She paused a bit, grinned and asked, "You guys are going to give me a $100 tip, aren't you?".
"Well, I can buy you a new shoe lace" said the third colleague who'd also been quiet up to that point.
The two of us wanted to leave her a typical 20% tip, but the first colleague overruled us. He added enough to the pot to make it a 35% tip. Her tall tales worked.