When I was a teenager, we would go out in groups, usually to a sorry local chain restaurant called Wags, whose mascot was a sort of raccoon. (bad idea: a rodent as your icon) Inevitably, there would not be enough cash on the table to cover the bill, so eventually Chris Keathley & I would summon up our Prostestant Guilt and round out the bill. (It's like Catholic Guilt but you can't actually feel guilty)
Tonight was Guys night at a local pub in Chatham. When the bill came, we all ponied up. Even after the tip was figured in, we had an extra $40, which was put towards next month's evening. And we tipped her at over 30%. Sweet.
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