“One year, on the day before Christmas Eve, he comes in, looking less horribly hungover than usual. Another regular, a drunk woman who kept coming in and trying to scam us into giving her free food with sob stories, follows him in. She walks up to our manager and starts in on a long story about how she's stranded and desperately needs some bread or French fries to keep her going. Our manager, who is very polite but has heard it all before, just stands there nodding, while quietly motioning for me to come over. The quiet dude is sitting next to her, and abruptly interrupts, "Hey, why don't you give her a piece of pie and put it on my tab?" Weirdly, the woman starts complaining about how she doesn't need pie, she needs bread (drunks are weird). Anyways, our manager, who didn't want a drunk woman hanging around, just shakes his head. So, drunk lady doesn't get her pie, and I'm slightly worried about my tip, since customers get weird when you say no to them.
“Dude orders corned beef hash, eats it, drinks his coffee, and gets ready to go. He grabs his receipt, heads to the counter, hands me his card, signs the receipt, and starts to walk out. I look at the signed slip. He'd left me a $40 tip. On a $10 bill. I call out to him and go, ‘Hey, did you mean to leave me this much?’ He looks at me with this weird, pained look on his face, like he thinks I'm slightly rude for asking. ‘Yeah. Merry Christmas. Or whatever.’ I start to thank him, but he looks so uncomfortable talking to me that I stop and he walks out. He kept coming back, but I never mentioned it to him again.” -- Lon Amerson