No Cash, No Change
Table seven wants refills
table nine wants fries no salt
Manager wants big fake smiles and every screw-up is my fault
They’ve got cards and apps and watches
waving plastic in the air
But when the screen asks “Tip” they just stab the smallest number there.
End of shift I count the damage in the back by busted crates
Credit slips and service charges
extra fees and missing plates, Jar on the counter empty
sign still begging for a bit
Funny how a whole full house can leave you with this little shit.
I’m a waiter living on tips in a cashless town
Everyone’s got plastic but they still drag my ass down
They tap to pay their dinner like it’s nothing but a trick
Walk out full and happy
leave me counting scraps and shame.
She orders drinks like water
he brags about his brand new car
They send back plates half eaten
say the sauce “just missed the bar
” They ask for gluten-free with extra sides they’ll never touch
Then hit that fifteen percent like they’re offering me too much.
Phone buzz in my apron is the landlord’s hungry text
“Rent was due last Tuesday
what’s your plan for next” I glance up at the ceiling
feel the floor shift under feet
While I’m topping off their coffee so they can call this night complete.
I’m a waiter living on tips in a cashless town
Everyone’s got plastic but they still drag my ass down
They tap to pay their dinner like it’s nothing but a trick
I’m still here doing circles, broke and stuck the same.
We used to get loose bills folded tight inside a hand
Little nod that said “I see you
” not just “bring more bread on demand
” Now it’s screens and spinning circles
“optional” lights up bold
And somehow every rich-ass table acts like generosity’s been sold.
Teen on table twenty filming me for some dumb post
Catching “hard work” in the background while I’m trying not to host
They post my face with filters and some bullshit grateful line
But the only thanks I’m getting is a four-cent tip online.
Kitchen’s hot and swearing, ticket rail about to snap
Cook’s been here since open with a busted knee and crap
We split what little comes in like it’s rations from the sea
Four grown workers fighting over crumbs they’ll never see.
I’m a waiter living on tips in a cashless town
Everyone’s got plastic but they still drag my ass down
They tap to pay their dinner like it’s nothing but a trick
I’m still here doing circles, broke and stuck the same.
One day I’ll drop this apron on the floor and walk away
Till then I’m pouring water, “How you folks doing today
” Serving up their comfort while my own life’s on the line
Hoping one more ghosted tip doesn’t snap what’s left of my spine.