In the past, I’ve passed off Kevin Smith news to a commenter known as Chareth Cutestory, who fervently hates him. Not because I have anything against Kevin Smith, I just found Chareth’s passion combined with the randomness of Kevin Smith as a target irresistible. Obsession is the root of comedy and all of that. Anyway, partly as a mea culpa for all of that, I thought I’d share a story about Kevin Smith being a solid dude.
It comes from Gawker’s Kitchenette, in a segment where readers sent in their stories of celebrity encounters in restaurants. (Obviously these are all completely unsubstantiated). The story in question, as related by the waitress, is about an unnamed-to-that-point celebrity who showed up 15 minutes before closing and made the restaurant staff (waitress, busser, assistant manager, and cook) stay late. Once he realizes, he demands they drop everything so he can deliver a group apology. (Again, allegedly.)
“Okay. You can tell that being diplomatic with me isn’t going to work, right? I swear I’ll be extremely fast, but don’t bother with the ‘don’t worry about it, sir’ crap. I want to talk to all four of you right now because I will make this right.”
I don’t know what it was, but I absolutely knew in that moment that truer words had never been spoken. I went to the back where my three co-workers were and I said, basically, that the guy who just left came back and wanted to talk to all of us, and I REALLY think we should go up there. Somehow, they too knew that this was serious sh*t. We quickly walked to the front.
“Like I told C.J. here, I’m really, honestly upset with myself for delaying you guys. I don’t want you guys to go home angry at me or angry at your job for forcing you to deal with dumbasses like me. Another thing I told C.J. was that there’s no point in arguing, because I won’t let this go. Are there any questions at all?”
There were none, and he handed us each one of the four piles of one thousand f*cking dollars in cash he’d neatly made on the register counter.
So, Kevin Smith is a good dude. (Via Kitchenette)
The more conspiracy-minded among us could surely argue that this was sent by Kevin Smith’s PR team, but I would suggest that having everyone who waits on you expecting a thousand-dollar tip would be… less than ideal. I’m inclined to believe that it’s either true, or the world’s saddest fan fiction.
“Hey, dude, what’s your fan fiction about?” “It’s set 10 years in the future, where we have to send Alexandra Daddario to space to have sex with the king of centaurs.” “Oh. That’s cool, I guess. Mine’s about Kevin Smith leaving me a really big tip.”
I’d heard Kevin Smith was a good tipper. Who knew his jort pockets were filled with giant wads of money?