Another drink, another thought—this one gnawing at me. Why the hell do we tip the pretty girls but not the ones busting their asses behind the scenes? You ever think about that? You pay fourteen bucks for a hamburger, right? And we all know the cook’s with burn marks on thier arms are getting paid—hell, we know the thick varicose veins lady in the back washing dishes is getting paid. But somehow, this pretty thing with the yoga pants, the push-up bra, and the cute smile—she getting paid as well, yet she gets more. What the hell is that about? She’s not even a necessity, yet we still slip her that extra cash like she’s some kind of goddess. What’s so special about her? Is it the little wink when she asks if you want fries with that?
I know, I know, tipping’s a deadbeat topic. I’ve probably wasted too many words already. But hell, tipping’s this sick little thing that gets under the skin of society. It sets off a chain reaction. You can see it everywhere—just like when they throw a white cowboy hat and a black cowboy hat in front of a crowd and ask which one’s the “good one” one. Guess who gets picked? It’s always the white hat. TV, culture, whatever—you know the drill. But that’s exactly the same thing happening here. It’s all part of the damn programming. And it all starts with tipping.
It’s like this twisted American obsession with putting women on a pedestal. We act like the hardest thing in the world is being a mom. But then, we make them work 9 to 5, away from their kids, while their husbands can barely scrape enough together to let them stay home. Don’t get me started on that. But you ask most women what the second hardest job is, and they’ll tell you: waitressing.
But what’s harder? Laying out your ashault in the Phoenix heat in summer, or serving plates with you boobs hanging out for four hours? Or climbing up to a rooftop, baking under the sun, doing roofing work like a damn animal? What’s the hardest job, really? What’s worth a tip and what isn’t? And you know what?
The pretty ones don’t stick around after hours, rolling napkins or cleaning up the mess. They’ve already made their special deal in the back room with the owner or manager. No, it’s the B Team that stays behind—picking up the shift after all the customers are gone, after all the tips have been stripped away. It’s the ones who get forgotten when the cash starts rolling in, left to deal with the aftermath while the others slip away with their reward.
Nobody’s forcing them to take this job. There are other career paths, but they’ll tell you it’s easy. “I don’t have to work long hours like normal people,” they say. Well, no law says you have to tip her. Not one. But there’s a law that says you’ve got to pay the cook. That $14 burger? Yeah, her salary’s already baked into that price. So why the hell are we acting like she deserves more for doing a job she was hired to do? What’s so damn special about her? Is it her charm? The way she dances around the table? Her “What can I get you, sir?” like she’s trying to get daddy’s approval?
It’s a mess. Our society’s gone soft, lowering the bar so damn low, it’s practically buried in the dirt. But heaven forbid we don’t treat these little princesses with respect. Why? So we don’t choke ‘em out when our food arrives cold? No, no. This is all a game. A mindfuck. Welcome to American culture.
Is it about tipping? Yeah, but it’s more than that. The truth is, most people are walking around in a fog. We follow the rules, shovel down the junk food, buy the lies, and play the game. But nobody stops to ask if it’s all just one big joke. No one dares to say, “Maybe this tipping thing is bullshit.” Maybe we’re just getting played, used, and strung along by a system that’s built on our unwillingness to question a damn thing. If you can’t even question tipping, then what else aren’t you questioning? You’re just another cog, another sheep in the herd, stumbling through life, paying for bullshit because that’s what they told you to do.
Here’s how I see it: the whole thing is a damn joke, a sick game built on false ideals and manipulation. Society’s obsessed with putting women on a pedestal, as if it’s some sacred role they’re meant to fill. But it’s just another way to keep people in line, playing their parts. This “woman as sacred” thing? It’s a construct, made to box us all in. Men are supposed to work their asses off while women get treated like they’re too delicate to sweat. And that whole “man protecting woman” narrative? It’s just more bullshit to make sure we all stay distracted, never questioning the system.
Women in the workplace? Yeah, they get special treatment while men get crushed under the weight of expectation. It’s another way the system keeps us divided, makes sure no one ever looks up from the petty shit long enough to see the bigger picture. Men and women, we’re both stuck, playing roles that don’t belong to us, all while the people in charge keep laughing at us from above. But we’re too scared to call it out. Too afraid to step on the pedestal, because doing so might just bring the whole damn thing crashing down. And maybe that’s the point. Keep us distracted. Keep us small. Keep us fighting for crumbs.
Go ahead, keep pretending it’s all fair. But when you’re slipping that extra cash, just ask yourself: Are you part of the problem? Another cog in the machine, dancing the same old dance because society tells you to. What other dances do you do?
Author’s Note:
This story is a reflection on societal expectations, the double standards that permeate our culture, and the blind obedience that so many of us fall victim to without ever questioning it. Tipping isn’t just about giving money—it’s a symbol of how deeply ingrained norms and values shape our decisions, often without us even realizing it. The piece challenges the idea of putting people on pedestals based on superficial traits and exposes the hypocrisy that allows certain people to be rewarded for doing less, while others work harder and get ignored.
At its core, this is about questioning the roles we’re told to play. It’s about examining how the systems of power, manipulation, and societal programming keep us distracted, stuck in a loop of conformity. We’re all part of the same game, but how many of us are brave enough to call out the rules? How many of us even notice the game being played at all?
