I used to work at a bar. A bar near a few gypsy houses. Usually inner-city rowhouses that advertise "palm readings" and "fortune telling" on the outside, in garish neon signs. Didn't get too many gypsies inside the bar. But one time I got an old Gypsy man out on a date. He sat in a both, looking maybe 55, with a girl who was at least 20 years his junior. He sat down with her, and pulled out a promotional calendar from a local mechanic. It had different Italian "muscle" cars on each page. Lamborghini's and such. >I like this one, but I think it would look better in red He said, as he pointed to the automobile. The woman who was with him looked at it, and nodded skeptically. I went over to take their order. >Hey, good evening, my name is Theo, and here is a specials menu--- The gypsy looked at me with a diminutive glare. >Get her whatever she wants!!! Anything she wants!!! Quite rude, implying I would not get her whatever she asked for. I looked at the women. She ordered the most expensive wine by the glass we had. I bring her that. And they order food. And I brought her three more glasses of that $14.00/glass wine. He continues to point out cars on the promotional calendar, speaking about how he will purchase them in the near future, if only they had it in the color he wanted. They eat, and drink, and seem ready to move on to the next phase of the evening. He asks for the bill. It is about $75.00. >What? We didn't order that! I stood back, talking as his internal chaos externalized itself >Sir, you told me to get her whatever she wanted. Her wines were $14.00 by the glass. You told me to get whatever she wanted. He simmered and stammered... >Well, yeah, but I thought it would be regular wine, you know, three bucks a glass. After a long bit of less-than-nuanced conversation, he gave me his credit card. I swiped it. >DECLINED I walked back up to them. >I am very sorry sir, but this has been declined. Do you have another form of payment? The girl looked furious at this. She stared directly at him. >If you can't afford this meal, how can you afford me? She, who in retrospect, was obviously a prostitute, slammed a $20.00 down on the table, and looked me in the eyes. >This is tip. It is not for his bill. And then she walked out. I happily pocketed the $20.00. >So Sir, do you have another form of payment? He looked sheepishly around. I went to get my manager. @StabEm apologies for taking so long, here is one of my gypsy stories