I know know, if I ever knew, why Dad sent me to Loves Steakhouse that night.  Occasionally, dad would send me to Mc Donalds, just around the corner, for a meal.  It was rare but it happened.  However one evening, when I was nine, Dad sat me down at the table, taught me how to figure a 10% tip (it was the acceptable rate back then) and sent me off on my own with a 20 dollar bill for dinner.

In the restaurant, the waitress seemed a bit confused at a little girl ordering for herself.  I think I ordered a steak and a coke.  I'm not sure.  The bill was just over five dollars.  Actually, now that I think about it, I think it was about seven dollars.  I took a napkin, borrowed the waitress' pen, and started adding.  She watched me curiously.  I grew more and more flustered and eventually panicked.  I slapped the 20 dollar bill down on the counter with my check, and bolted for the door.

I'll never forget the look of incredulity on dad's face when I admitted there was no change.  "What did you order?"  I explained what happened.  There was a funny look around the corners of dad's mouth.  It was one of those times when a parent just has to remember that sometimes raising kids can be expensive.

However, several good things happened that night.  I learned how to order, how to take care of getting my own meal at a restaurant, and... before I went to bed that night, I had a firm understanding of how to calculate 10% tips on a meal.  Now if he had only mentioned that you tip places other than restaurants.  Cabbies for instance.

Several weeks or months later, I wanted to go to the little shopping center (it's now a huge mall) "The San Buenaventura Center".  Mom didn't feel like going and dad didn't either so he dropped me off at Thrifty in the center and told me to call him when I was done.  I wandered around for hours.  I went into Barker Brothers Furniture and imagined what each room of furniture would look like in OUR house.  I ate a beef stick "sucker" from Hickory Farms and drooled over the jewelry in the store cases.  Finally, I went into the Broadway, went upstairs, and wandered through the girll's clothing department until I found the "Hello Kitty" section.  It was just a clear acrylic tower filled with "My Twin Stars" and "Hello Kitty" stuff.  I loved that stuff.  I learned to read prices on the backs and rarely bought a thing.  It was way too expensive.

Eventually, I got tired or hungry or something so I called dad and told him I was ready.  Dad said he'd send a cab and the five dollars he'd given me was for my ride home.  I went inside, spent .25 of my own money on a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone, and waited for the cab.  He drove up before I was finished so I took a big bite and threw the rest away.  I think the driver was appreciative.  He asked about my shoping trip, told me how neat he thought it was that my dad let me ride in a cab, and generally kept me entertained until I got home.  I paid him, accepted my change, and raced inside to tell my dad.  When I handed dad the change though, he asked, "Did you handle the tip ok this time?"

Tip?  What tip?  The answer was clearly obvious without me speaking a word.  Dad raced out the door and down the street.  Apparently the cabbie was going slow, had taken his time before pulling away, or something because Dad managed to catch up with him and leave him a tip.  I bet that guy had a fun time telling that story when he got back to the station.  (Or whatever you call a congregation of taxi-cabs.)