The Twenty-five Cent Man

The true story of a cheapskate

Many, many years ago when my wife and I opened a bookstore we needed to sink all the money the bookstore made during the first two years back into the bookstore in order to grow it. So we needed another source of income.

While I ran and grew the bookstore my wife got a job waiting tables at the cafe down the block from the bookstore. She had waited tables before and was extremely good at it despite the fact that she hated waiting tables with every fiber of her being.

She was an actress not a waitress! Just like I was a writer not a retailer! But we both put our art on the back burner for a couple of years in order to build a business that was a fantasy of mine and which hopefully someday would provide us the financial resources to enable us to return to our art.

So for the bookstore’s first couple of years she waited tables down the block. It was nice because she sent a lot of the cafe’s customers down to the bookstore after they finished their meals. My wife was better than an ad in the local newspaper. It was a fairly good temporary set up despite the fact that she came home every day and bitched and complained about waiting tables.

Actually she didn’t bitch too much but there was one particular customer that she complained about a lot. All the waitresses at the cafe called him, The Twenty-five Cent Man.

He was actually one of the wealthiest men in town. Not only was he a lawyer but he was also a slumlord, he collected vintage cars which he kept in an old warehouse he owned and he dabbled in the stock market. He owned more property in town than just about anyone. We learned later that he was worth between 50 and 100 million bucks.

Well this man came into the cafe almost every single day so my wife waited on him A LOT. Sometimes he would just order a cup of coffee for himself and every time he would leave a lone quarter on the table as a tip. Sometimes he would order coffee and breakfast, leaving a lone quarter on the table as a tip. Other times he would come in with a client and order coffee and breakfast for both of them and pay for it all (always with cash) then leave a lone quarter on the table as a tip. Other times he would bring four or five or six people into the cafe and buy them all lunch (always with cash) and then leave a lone quarter on the table as a tip.

Whether the man was paying for just one cup of coffee or buying lunch for six people he always left the exact same tip for the waitress: one lone quarter. His tip was always twenty-five cents no matter the total of his tab.

Can you understand why my wife was not fond of this jerk?

The bookstore lasted nine years. The middle years were fantastic. We increased the size of the bookstore by around 20 times, and sales increased similarly. After those first two years we were making enough money so that my wife could quit waiting tables and turn her attention back fully to her art. She utterly blossomed. The Denver Post called her one of the most talented stage actresses in all the Rocky Mountains.

Plus I had started writing again a bit, too.

During those last two years, though, business started trending southward. Finally, Jeff Bezos succeeded in running me out of business. Can you understand why I am not too fond of that jerk?

Anyway, after the bookstore closed and after my wife and I got divorced I got a job working on an assembly line in a local factory. It wasn’t too bad. I didn’t have to talk to anyone or look at anyone. I just had to stand in my spot and be a human robot.

But then one day I went to work and the factory was all boarded up. Without any warning at all the factory closed down and I never got my final paycheck. (I later learned that the CEO of the company had skipped town with all the money.) I needed to find another job as quickly as I could.

So guess what? I ended up waiting tables for the first time in my life. I only waited tables for four months but it certainly didn’t take that long for me to develop a very strong appreciation for what my wife had gone through those couple of years. I was finally able to wholeheartedly empathize with her and feel the pain she had gone through.

And then one day at lunch the Twenty-five Cent Man came into the restaurant where I was working. He had a client with him and they sat in my section so I had to wait on him. Their bill came to forty-some bucks and — you guessed it — he left me one lone quarter on the table as a tip.

I put the quarter in a different pocket than my other tips. I wanted to show it to someone. After work I called my ex-wife and asked if I could stop by her and her boyfriend’s apartment. There was something I wanted to show her.

When I got there the three of us exchanged pleasantries then I took the quarter out of my pocket and showed it to my ex-wife without saying anything.

At first she looked at the quarter quizzically then her eyes lit up, “Oh my God! You waited on the Twenty-five Cent Man, didn’t you?”

I nodded affirmatively.

My ex-wife broke into hysterical laughter, clapping her hands. Then she pointed at me, “Now you know! Now you know!”

Yes, now I knew.

The boyfriend then asked me if I wanted a drink.

I looked at him and replied, “I’ve been waiting tables for the last 8 fucking hours. Hell yes, I want a drink!”

The three of us drank and partied for a couple of hours while we reminisced about all the cheapskates we had known over the course of our lives…

and while I repeatedly thanked her for what she had done.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved.

Speaking of restaurants…