This one goes out to anyone who has ever worked for tips. And if you've never done it, here's a glimpse at the kind of people waitresses, bartenders, or those of us who spent their youth washing golf clubs have to deal with.

Let's set the scene: The restaurant, a national chain with a catchy jingle, is busy. There's crazy stuff stuck to the walls and the bar is serving up oversized mixed drinks. It's the same food/decor in Idaho or Massachusetts. There's nothing wrong with these places. I like sizzling fajitas as much as the next guy but you've got to remember where you are.

A customer arrives. He points out the booth where he and his family want to sit. Despite his rude demeanor things settle down. But he's calling over to the waiter whenever the poor guy walks by, really working him.

My family and I had the same waiter. He hustled for us. Perfect? No, our order came out a little screwy. Still, for me he had the right mix of attention to detail and a bit of disdain for his work. I get nervous when a waiter comes on overly happy. Either they are faking or have totally lost their mind and bought into the company line. Those people are truly terrifying.

The dad, who is sitting there with his grumpy teenage daughter and overly made up wife, seems to be getting angrier and angrier every time he talks to the waiter. He's got on some kind of Bill Cosby sweater. His wife's face has Botox written all over it and their offspring rolls her eyes over and over. The waiter asks, "Can I get you guys anything?"

Harmless, right? What would you expect him to say?

The dad clenches his fist and says, "Could you stop calling us guys? We are not GUYS."

Stay with me. On the surface this might sound silly. But the man clearly isn't happy with his life and has chosen this show of force to right the wrongs he faces every day. It's his chance to feel big, to fend off the slings and arrows of existence. No one's going to call him "guy."