Tipping Gone Horribly Wrong
I headed out this afternoon with two things in mind, to let the maid rummage through my stuff and to get blown at Kittens. I had tried Kittens a couple of visits ago but all the staff, all three of them, were engaged chatting with customers. Probably for the better as I was overdressed: My shirt had sleeves.
This time at 3 PM there were about seven girls and four or five customers. A portly young lady escorted me in and asked my drink preference. That done I popped the most important question: is the room upstairs air conditioned? There was great confusion as my incredibly limited Thai fell on baffled ears. I know hot, I know cold. I can point upstairs. Nope, not a clue. The mamasan eventually intervened and I was pretty sure I got an affirmative answer, so we were on. She quoted me 1500 which I took to be for FS, a little steep but I really didn't care because maybe air conditioning. I suspect there was a separate BJ cost but I chose not to limit my options just in case. A moderately attractive (for a BJ bar) additional choice was brought in from outside so I pointed and we were off.
Or not. I was asked to take a seat in the clearly un-air conditioned bar area. My choice for the romp stood silently beside me without so much as a "Where you from?" I began to worry about an attitude. After about ten sweat-hours (maybe five minutes) we were summoned to the back, where I quickly understood why the portly one couldn't figure out the air conditioning question: It was NOT upstairs, so all my great pointing was just confusing as hell. It was a storage room with a bed put in it as an afterthought once it was lined with shelves and the floor piled with junk. But it was an air conditioned storage room! True, it was quite clear that those five waiting minutes were to allow them to find the damned remote to turn the unit on, so the room was the same temperature as the bar, but the Battle of the BTUs was well underway.
We got naked, then as she was fumbling around for the condom I explained BJ only using the internationally approved signal of point at mouth, point at cock, repeat. Sadly, her BJ skills were not top-tier and her hand job technique threatened to remove my member, but she certainly was a trooper as things continued for many minutes. I suggested lube for the hand job portions. This took a lot of pointing and gesticulation but eventually there was an understanding on both sides: She understood lube; I understood that they did not have any. My opinion of this place was in a severe downwards spiral.
I even tried to help, largely to protect myself from permanent damage. She immediately flattened out on the bed to tend to the twins with tongue and hands. Still no good. As the half hour neared I threw in the towel. It wasn't happening.
And this is where we get to the tipping business: I come from a culture that tips everyone. I'd tip a vending machine If I could. I actually did tip one in my youth and nearly got caught, but that was different. I gave her a modest tip since she had worked her butt off and much of the problem was the bar: Overheating me as I waited, overheating me as the air conditioner tried to fight the heat, no lube, etc. She counted it and didn't even thank me, just left the room unsmiling. In the bar she talked to the mamasan as I dug for the 1500. All of a sudden the mamasan was in my face. "I talk when you come in! You agree! You pay!
It hit me: The girl didn't realize it was a tip. She thought I was only paying a pittance because of the failure to launch. No wonder she wasn't doing a lot of smiling! I desperately tried to interrupt the ranting mamasan. I finally got a word or two in. I pointed to her and said in Thai, "1,500 baht". I then pointed to the tip money in her hand and to the hallway where the enraged girl had fled in a huff and said, "Tip".
Suddenly all was well in the world, or almost: The girl had to be retrieved from wherever she was about to commit suicide and brought back to apologize and thank. The mamasan, between a stream of apologies, explained that the girl had just started a few days ago and spoke not a word of English, which explains the silent sentry thing as the room was prepared and the lube request issue.
So here is more ammunition for the Don't Tip crowd!
Stopped by the Nevada Club down the street afterward. A predictably poor lineup in the afternoon though there was one really nice body, long and slim, but with an average face. Had I not felt that I needed to go soak my privates in ice water I might had bought her a drink.