The “No Tip” Button

I almost didn't see it. That's what I keep telling people. If I had looked down at my phone for one more second and not glanced up at the passing window, I'd have eaten it and never known.

I was at Rosalind's Grill, a small counter-service spot off Route 9, popular for quick lunches from guys on break and moms with strollers. I ordered a double cheeseburger and fries, paid with my card at the small screen, and quickly selected the "no tip" option. I didn’t do it out of spite, but because it was a counter order—no one had done anything yet that deserved a tip. 

While waiting for my number to be called, I looked toward the kitchen window and saw the cook—who appeared to be in his mid-twenties, wearing a hairnet and a name tag that read Marcus—glance at the ticket, say something to the person beside him I couldn't hear, and then deliberately spit on my burger. His action was clearly intentional and not subtle or accidental.

I paused briefly, stunned by what I had just seen. Then, my number was called, and the same person placed the bag on the counter, sliding it toward me with a look that seemed to challenge me to say anything.

So I accepted his challenge, called him over, and said calmly: "I need this remade, because I saw what he just did.”

He didn't even flinch, firing back, "Saw what?"

"You spit on my burger," I replied firmly.

"Man, I don't know what you're talking about," he said flatly, bored, as if reciting a line he already knew he wouldn't need to sell very hard, because who was going to believe the customer over the guy behind the counter?

The manager, or someone who looked like one, with a polo shirt and a clipboard, approached me. I explained the situation again, this time more calmly, but she responded with attitude and accused me of lying. “If you’re so sure Marcus spat on your burger, then where’s your proof?” she asked angrily. I nearly lost my temper, but I stayed calm and told them I would leave once my burger was remade. She rolled her eyes and told Marcus to remake it. “Marcus, remake the Karen’s burger before she calls the cops on us,” she mocked. 

I stepped back to wait and then heard Marcus loudly criticizing the person beside him, saying something like "entitled cheap Karen didn't even tip, now I have to remake this order," followed by some words I won't repeat. I took out my phone and began recording because I suspected Marcus might spit on my burger again, and I wanted proof. A few seconds into recording, he did just that, spitting directly onto the freshly made burger before it was wrapped.

Marcus was at the pass window, holding the ticket and speaking loudly enough for three customers to hear. Then, he clearly leaned forward and spat directly onto the bun before closing the box. All of this was captured on video, leaving no doubt. 

I didn't ask my burger to be remade a third time because Marcus’ actions had made me lose my appetite; instead, I walked up while still recording and asked for a refund. The manager was about to give me more attitude until she saw me recording.

“I have proof,” I said calmly, “I’m sure the press and the Health Inspector will have a field day with this one.”

“See if I care, Karen. Get out of my restaurant before I have you removed for trespassing,” she yelled. “And by the way, don’t even think about walking out of here with a refund.”

“Sounds good,” I replied while walking away.

I sat in my car in the parking lot for about ten minutes, overwhelmed with disgust at what I had seen. If Marcus spit on my burger so shamelessly, then he probably had done it before. Just imagining many people unknowingly eating a burger he'd spat on made me almost gag.

I am generally not confrontational, especially in restaurants. If they had remade my burger without any problems, I would have simply left with my food and without causing a scene. Furthermore, if the manager hadn’t challenged me, I wouldn’t be sharing this story with you today. However, witnessing something so egregious and offensive as spitting in food as retaliation for not tipping for counter service compelled me to speak out. 

That night, I uploaded the video to social media, tagging every major news outlet. I kept the caption minimal, letting the video speak for itself, and included a still frame from the second spat to prevent any misinterpretation of the angle. I also filled out the county health department's complaint form, attaching the video and describing both incidents, because, as I mentioned earlier, unless someone with the authority to shut down the kitchen saw it, it probably wouldn't be the last time Marcus spat on a burger.

Naturally, the video quickly went viral, drawing millions of viewers. By the next morning, news vans lined up outside Rosalind's Grill, and by the afternoon, the county inspector's office announced they had launched a case and shut down the restaurant until their inspection was finished. I later learned Marcus was fired before the health inspector arrived, and the manager was suspended ‘indefinitely’ pending an internal review. This didn't surprise me and didn't seem like enough. 

I still think about the burger I almost ate and how an unclicked “no tip” button enraged a person to the point that they felt justified to spit on someone’s food. Ironically, he called me entitled when he was just projecting his own entitlement onto me, believing he deserved a tip for simply doing his job. On the other hand, I am still disgusted by how a manager would defend, or rather condone, such evil actions. I stopped ordering fast food, which, honestly, is much better for my health, simply because I no longer trust employees not to spit on my food if I don’t leave a tip.