Going out for a meal with a big group of friends is, in theory, one of
life’s simplest pleasures. Hoeing into chef-prepared food is good,
obviously, and gossiping about mutual acquaintances is even better.
Sadly, all this gluttony does come at a price – specifically, the one
listed on the menu. As plates are cleared away and someone at the
table quietly regrets having taken a risk on the breakfast special,
a single slip of paper appears alongside a frowning, overworked
waitress. No, you can’t pay separately on weekends. They can’t
make an exception. Sorry.
It’s the moment everyone knew was coming, yet no one thought to
prepare for with a strategic ATM trip. Someone’s five dollars short;
vague and unconvincing promises are made about internet banking;
and an impatient line of people stare on as they wait for the table.
Everyone has experienced this dilemma, but nobody talks about it.
It’s time for us, as a culture, to start taking responsibility for our
bill-splitting habits.
Let’s begin by resisting the urge to open the calculator app. Nothing
ruins the pleasant feeling of having ingested your body weight
in scrambled eggs faster than sitting around awkwardly while
someone painstakingly calculates how much everybody owes for
their meal, down to the last cent. My humble suggestion: split
the damn thing evenly. Oh, you didn’t order a second coffee like
everybody else? Well, take a deep breath and let that $3.50 go.
This is neither the time nor place for long division.Of course, even if everyone is keen to split the bill, it’s inevitable
that someone won’t have the correct amount of cash on them.
Here, we enter the phase of “send me your details” ambiguity,
which will likely result in little more than a series of awkward
follow-up messages. The truth is, I’ve frequently been the friend
who didn’t think ahead to get money out, but in my defence, I’m
a brave and forward-thinking futurist and truly believe paper
money should have become obsolete by now. Still, I’ve come
to understand that my love of tapping my card is a massive
inconvenience to others. Let it be known, I’m trying to change –
by, quite literally, having spare coins on me at all times.
(On that note: blessed be the friends who, with full knowledge that
they’re about to lose at least 10 dollars, sigh and put the whole thing
on their card as everyone mutters half-heartedly about sending
money through later. Let us be grateful for their sacrifice, and try
to pay them back quicker and more faithfully in future.)
Perhaps the most irritating inevitability of the group meal is that
one diner who ducks out early for some other “very important social
engagement”, and either “forgets” to leave money on the table or
“miscalculates” the correct amount. Conversely, they’ll stay for the
entire meal, but conveniently disappear to the bathroom just as it’s
time to pay up. Strategically leaving everyone else to sort out the
bill is so dang rude that italmostdemands begrudging respect,
but I reckon you can get away with it once per year at most. Twice,
maybe, if you’re incredibly broke. Consider yourselves warned,
Houdinis of the brunch world.
Maybe I’m overanalysing things, but how we split the bill reflects
who we are as people. No matter how many letters I write to the
government, it seems Australia is sticking with capitalism for
the time being, which means some of us will have more financial
freedom than others. So, if you find yourself feeling flush post-
paycheck, why not shout a mate their breakfast? You’ll feel great,
and they’ll be chuffed, too. Bonus points if you sneakily pay for the
whole table while no one’s looking. Nothing tastes sweeter – not
even those turmeric lattes everyone’s making now.cheques and mates
KATHERINE GILLESPIE HAS SOME
THOUGHTS ON SPLITTING THE BILL.
PhotoLukasz Wierzbowskirant