BADMINTON BLUES

Photo by Naveen Kumar on Unsplash

Life gives hard lessons, and they often come with a price. Literally. I speak, of course, from experience. Take for example the hard lesson my friend Luke and I learned, from all things, badminton.  

At the time, Luke and I were both working as bartenders at a local hotel. It was our first bartending gig, having landed the job via a Bartenders School job reference. Yes, such a school does actually exist. And no, my interest in going to Bartenders school did not come on the heels of Tom Cruise’s movie Cocktail, which glorified the profession.  

Bartending has its perks, no doubt, but I think James Taylor’s song “I’m Just a Bartender” falls more in line with the truth about bartending. Catering to people, especially those inebriated, will eventually wear on you. I am reminded of two stories in particular where waiter friends of mine were treated rudely by customers, which I have included as add-ons at the end. 

Back to the hotel gig. Our job was to work the happy hour bar; setting up and breaking down the lounge area. In between we received hotel guests from 5-7 p.m. and steadily pumped out free drinks for two hours.

For the guests it was a nice little relaxer after a hard day of working or sightseeing. For us, it was a nice little get in-get out chance to make some easy money.

Technically we were not supposed to encourage customers to tip, nor were we supposed to set up a tip jar. But management was inconsistent in enforcing this rule. Besides, during any given shift, the line of customers stretched down to the hotel lobby so the bartenders were too busy to stop and have a chat over policy.

When management would come by and tell us to take down the tip cup, we basically shrugged off the polite request and kept pumping out drinks. We weren’t being rude, we were just that busy. Later we would claim that it was those “gosh-darn customers”, again, who set up the tip cup.

Baiting for tips was justified in our eyes because we were also burdened with “popcorn duty”. The added responsibility of having to 1) wheel the popcorn machine out from the storage closet; 2) plug it in; 3) pour oil and popcorn into the cooking pot; 4) salt the popcorn; and 5) sample handful after handful of popcorn to make certain the product was just right, well, let me put it this way: the laws of capitalism dictated that we were working below our market value. I graduated Summa cum laude from bartender school, not popcorn making school. I mean, come on!

It’s not like we were con artists ripping customers off. We saw a logical opportunity to make good money, and we simply nudged the capitalist faithful with a visual cue. All it took to get the money flowing was putting out a clear plastic cup, along with a crisp $5 bill standing erect, to let people know that maybe the drinks were being provided for free, but the service came with an industry regulated unspoken code.

It was a fun gig that paid pretty good money – plus, we got to wear Hawaiian shirts for our uniforms, just like Tom Cruise in Cocktail:) But ultimately, like any job, the true reward is the people you meet along the way.

In this case, it was a waiter named Arjun who Luke and I befriended. Arjun was a good guy, easy going, and fun to be around!

One day, the three of us were sitting around talking, when the subject of badminton came up. Why? I have no idea, but as soon as it did, Arjun burst out like a peacock, boasting about how he could easily defeat us 21-0.  

I looked at Arjun with a smirk. 

“Arjun, you, by yourself, playing me and Luke, as a team, would beat us 21-0, in badminton?”

“Yup!”… was his defiant response.

I looked at Luke, Luke looked at me, then we both burst out laughing!

imagflip.com

 What gall! It was so ridiculous to hear him say that! Luke and I were ballers. We had grown up playing all different sports, so we were more than athletic enough to not give Arjun’s boast one ounce of serious consideration.

On the contrary, we challenged him to back up his bravado with a wager. To our delight, Arjun readily agreed.  

This was the bet…

• We would play one game up to 21
• Arjun could not let Luke and I score one point against him
• If Luke and I scored only one point, Arjun would fork over $100 total
• But if we lost 21-0, Luke and I would each fork over $50 each
• Arjun’s only request was that he be allowed to serve first.

No problem Arjun, it doesn’t matter!  

This was a no brainer of a bet! It was the type of bet that you almost felt bad making because  as the age ol’ adage goes it was like taking candy from a baby. But if Baby runs mouth, Baby has to dig into Baby’s wallet. That is the law of bravado. It was our duty, as natural born athletic males, to open up a can of whup ass on Arjun and take his money!   

We agreed to meet the following night at a badminton club in Washington, D.C. When Luke and I showed up the following evening, it was us doing the peacocking. We strutted onto the badminton court ready to get it on, get it done, and get out of there richer than when we walked in!

At this point, Luke and I are thinking the same thing: money in the bank!  We were under the  assumption; this was going to be the type of badminton played in the backyard. You know, where the little birdie thing is served underhand and makes a soft boop sound, flies high into the sky, then falls oh so gently back down to earth, where it would be hard pressed for even a 2 year old to miss hitting it. Yeah, that type of badminton; where you hold the racket in one hand, and a beer in the other.

Little did we know we were in for a badminton game like it’s played in Asia, where the shuttlecock (which is what it’s called) blazes just over the net at up to 200 mph. After Arjun’s first serve we knew we were in trouble! He served like Kento Momota!  The serve was super fast! Too fast for Luke or I to even get our badminton rackets up in time to hit it back!

It didn’t take long for desperation to set in. After the first few serves, either Luke screamed at me, or I screamed at him, just swing wildly! The logic being that maybe we would get lucky, hit the shuttlecock, and win by a miracle!

It never came. Arjun pummeled us 21-0 in under ten minutes of play; just like he said he would.

Such is life. Sometimes you pay for lessons emotionally, sometimes you pay for them financially, and sometimes you pay for them with both. Such was the case for myself and a fellow bartender as we departed the badminton club with tarnished pride and lighter pockets.

So here’s the thing; if someone is telling you they can beat you 21-0 in badminton, they probably have a good reason to boast. In hindsight, that there was a badminton club to begin with should have been our first indication that we bit off more than we could chew.

But we missed the signs, or refused to see them. We were overconfident in our abilities, while diminishing the ability of our opponent. In there lies the life lesson. Like Napoleon retreating from Moscow, Luke and I left the club with our tails between our legs and a life lesson surely we would never soon forget!

A couple of days later, still smarting from our humbling loss, we saw Arjun and we all had a good laugh. Arjun was cool about it, and didn’t rub it in too bad. He then asked if Luke and I had any interest in winning our money back, double or nothing, but this time playing Ping-Pong?  

I looked at Luke – Luke looked at me… our minds thinking the same thing …  

Ping-Pong? What could go wrong? We only had to score one point!

Add on Story #1

‘ya can keep your damn pennies’

Ever watch the Mel Brooks movie “High Anxiety”? It’s not Mel’s greatest piece of comedic work, but it has some great scenes. I always recall the scene where Mel Brook’s character keeps asking a Bellhop for a newspaper.  

I include this scene because it is a perfect symbolic precursor to my add-on story #1.

Here is what happened…

In Old Town Alexandria, at a now-defunct restaurant called the Alamo, a waiter had just finished serving a trio of professionally dressed women on their lunch break. There were zero issues. The waiter proceeded to give the customers a bill for which he was given cash which required him to return with change. Which he did. He then walked away as is customary to do, as opposed to standing there while customers figure out the tip amount.

The ladies proceeded to get up and walk out. The waiter then goes back to the table to collect his tip, expecting the standard 15-20% of the total check. Nothing major in terms of a single table, but at the end of the day, the money adds up.

I was behind the bar, clueless as to what was happening, only to watch with curiosity as the waiter rushed out the door. After a brief minute, he casually walked back in with a sly devilish smile on his face and said, “I gave them back their change.”

I didn’t know what that meant until I found out the following day the waiter had been suspended for running up to the ladies on the street and throwing the pennies they had left behind at them. Apparently they pocketed all the cash, and left only a few coins as a tip!

Everyone knows that the livelihood of those who work in the hospitality business is dependent on the generosity of others. To treat someone like crap, while also insulting someone’s dignity in the process – well, sometimes we reap what we sow. In this case, if one is going to be cheap, it would have been better  to just have taken all the cash, coins included, lest it rains pennies down on you. 

Add on Story #2

A**Holes 

My second add-on story happened at an sea-food restaurant called McCormick and Schmick’s, an upper-scale restaurant catering to those willing to indulge on good seafood as well as the dining experience. Being an upper scale restaurant, the staff go through extensive training, are very knowledgeable, and earn some very nice money on any given shift. 

If you get the right customers that is.

On this particular shift I was working the service bar, where my job was to make drinks for the wait staff in the dining area. Anyway, at one point during the shift, a waiter comes up to the bar area looking downtrodden. Sensing that, I asked, “what’s up?”

Without saying a word, the waiter handed me a business card. I took the card and silently read to myself…                     We do not tip as a matter of personal religious belief. May God bless you!

Shaking my head in disgust, I handed the card back and simply said, “Friggin’ unbelievable!” 

The waiter didn’t say a word. He just walked away demoralized. 

This business card (left as a tip for services provided) was from a table of two adults and two children. As such, the bill couldn’t have been less than $100 dollars. The standard tip in a restaurant like McCormick and Schmick’s would have been $20 bucks, easy. But instead of a generous tip, the waiter came away with less faith in humanity than he started the shift with!

I chuckle now in memory of that scene, though it still echoes from disbelief! Whatever justification these people felt they had to stiff someone for services provided, in the end they just made themselves, and their God, look cheap! Shouldn’t it be the opposite of that? Shouldn’t we represent and spread the wealth? People like that give religion a black eye. But hey, that’s life – it’s all around and sometimes you can see the cheap coming, sometimes you can’t. I only have one bit of advice for those like the couple, who left behind a business card as a tip: “Don’t be an A**hole!” 

Written by: T.K.

Chief Editor: C.K.

Share This Article