Word: Kowtow

 

kowtow

[ kou-tou, -tou, koh- ]

 

verb (used without object)

1. to act in an obsequious manner; show servile deference.

2. to touch the forehead to the ground while kneeling, as an act of worship, reverence, apology, etc., especially in former Chinese custom.

noun

3. the act of kowtowing.

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               Victor and Mark walked through the opulent halls. The upper crust of nobility stood by, watching the two of them. And at the end of the room, sitting on the throne, was the king. Victor leaned in towards his partner and whispered.

               “Do we really have to bow and scrape to this guy?”

               “Yes. Now shut up before someone hears you.”

               “But he’s so stupid and useless.”

               “Shut up. He’s the king. Nothing else matters.”

               “The two of us can take out everyone in this room. Why should we listen to them?”

               Mark looked around, finding Victor’s assessment accurate. Even the supposedly elite palace guards were dressed more for a party than for a battle. He swore their armor were actual mirrors instead of steel. And the nobles? If any of them knew how to use the swords some of them wore, he would kiss a pig.

               The king was the worst of all. The man was short, and fat, with the kind of dullness in his eyes that is normally seen in the village idiot. He was dressed in clothes that were likely cost more than most people made in a decade and had enough jewelry to fund most towns for a year. He held the royal weapons, a sword, a spear and a shield, just like all kings of this nation. But it was obvious they would never see use in his hands. It was a shame. The weapons themselves were without equal.

               “He’s still the king.” Mark said heavily. “That means we have to show reverence, respect, and loyalty.” He sighed. “Even if he hasn’t earned any of them from us.”

               “Yeah, but why? He’s not our king. We don’t owe him anything.”

               Mark knew Victor was technically correct. They came from two kingdoms over. They technically had no right to obey the royal idiot. They would still have to show a measure of respect towards royalty, but full obedience? That was reserved for others.

               “Okay, let’s put it this way.” He said. “The guy’s rich. Really, ridiculously rich. And he’s clearly not the brightest. We act like good little serfs, and we get paid a lot more than we normally would for the job.”

               “Ah. Now that I can get behind.” Victor said with a slight nod of his head. Obeying a man because he had a fancy hat was hard. Obeying a man because he was throwing a small mountain of gold his way was easy. They had done it before and would do it again.

               Now that he knew why they would be bowing to this joke of a king, Victor was much more agreeable to the meeting, even if there were a bunch of other nobles in attendance. Maybe if they played their cards right, the rich people would hire them as well. Suddenly, when Victor looked around he did not see weaklings, cowards and fools. He saw the piles of money that would no doubt be sent their way soon.

               They reached a place in the throne room several feet away from the throne. The two mercenaries got down on one knee in mock deference for the king. It was time to earn a paycheck.

              ******************************

Always remember: It never hurts to suck up to the boss.

Word: Hootenanny

 

hootenanny

[ hoot-n-an-ee, hoot-nan- ]

---

noun, plural hoot·en·an·nies.

1. a social gathering or informal concert featuring folk singing and, sometimes, dancing.

2. an informal session at which folk singers and instrumentalists perform for their own enjoyment.

Older Use. thingamajig.

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               Jake was trying to have fun, he really was. But it was just so far out of his comfort zone that he did not even know what to do with himself. Everyone else was having fun. They were dancing and singing and laughing. And people were playing fiddles. Not violins, but honest to god fiddles. The people not making music were doing some dance that involved a lot of big steps and spinning around other people. He had no idea what was going on.

               He did see his girlfriend, Susie, dancing with a huge smile on her face. At least one of them was having fun. Of course, it was understandable it was her. This was her family, after all. She was always the “small town southern gal” and he was the “big city northern boy.” Of course, the fact that they had both grown up in large suburbs of major cities did not change that. She still loved parties like this.

               Parties where the music was being made up on the spot by the singers, and the dancers kept going no matter what the song was about. Parties where even the salad had enough calories for an entire day. Parties where two people could be drinking together one moment, then punching each other the next, and then go right back to drinking together. There was no rhyme or reason for anything to happen the way it did.

               Jake could only stand at the side at watch, confused by what was going on. He had no idea what anything was, why anyone was doing anything, or even who anyone was. But the longer he looked, the more he thought he saw some kind of pattern to the chaos. Some unifying thread that kept everything running smoothly. But whenever he tried to grasp it, it fled, never to be known by him.

               Maybe if he joined in, he would find something out? But he dare not do that. This was Susie’s family. He did not want to upset them by making a fool of himself by messing up whatever was going on. They were already on the fence about him dating Susie, and messing up here could only make things worse. But at the same time, he could see a few people take notice of his lack of participation.

               He needed to do something, but what? He knew he was not capable of joining the dace floor. And there was not enough alcohol in the world to get him to sing. Maybe a casual conversation with one of the others who were also doing neither? There were not too many of those. Although, doing that ran the risk of getting his teeth knocked out. It was a real worry, considering he saw several people with missing teeth already. He did not want to tell his dentist about that.

               And so it was that he stayed where he was. He nursed a cheap beer in a plastic cup, likely the least fattening thing in the whole place. And he watched. He watched his girlfriend dance with her family. Maybe someday he would figure out what was going on. And when he did, he might just dance with her.

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I'd be miserable at a party like this. I don't like parties in general, but this kind would be so much worse for me.

Word: Baksheesh

 

baksheesh

or bak·shish, bak·shis

[ bak-sheesh, bak-sheesh ]

(in the Near and Middle East)

 

noun

a tip, present, or gratuity.

 

verb (used with or without object)

to give a tip.

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               There was something wrong with Julie’s date, Cody. She could not immediately put her finger on what it was, but it was definitely something. Something that irked her. It was nothing overt. He seemed like a nice guy. He did not spend the entire night talking about himself, and he was able to maintain eye contact reasonably well. He was decent looking and was not eating like a pig. Everything should have been good. But still, there was something.

               Whatever it was, she would figure out later. Their dinner was done and the check was being delivered. The waiter set the check down and gave the standard response. Cody did not acknowledge the man in the slightest. Maybe it was because he was talking? But wait, had he ever said a word the waiter other than to place an order?

               “Don’t worry, I’ve got the check.” He said, taking out his wallet. He placed his card down and acted like that was all he had to do.

               Julie gave the waiter a polite word of thanks as he took the card and check. Cody raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The conversation continued, with that feeling in Julie’s gut only getting worse the entire time. It was like he did not even think about the waiter.

               The bill came back a few minutes later, and Julie watched carefully. That was how she saw it. He left the line for a tip blank. Nor did he make any more to drop some cash. Julie frowned, and went to take out her wallet.

               “Hey, hey, what’re you doing? The bill’s all settled.” Cody asked.

               “Oh, well, I just noticed that you didn’t leave a tip, so I was going to.”

               “A tip? Why would I do that?”

               Julie looked confused. “Uh, because it’s standard practice?”

               “Meh. I’m sure it doesn’t matter all that much. I don’t think the waiter cares.”

               “Oh, I guarantee he does.” She said. “You do know how much of a waiter’s pay is tips, right?”

               He shrugged. “Not all that much. Not enough that it matters.”

               “Are…are you kidding me?”

               “Nope. Trust me, that guy not getting a tip from me won’t matter much. Besides, it’s not like he’s worth tipping anyway.”

               Julie got a sinking feeling.

               “What?”

               “Yeah. If he was any good at anything, he’d get a better job than taking orders in a place like this. Trust me, he’s only here because this is the only job he’s capable of doing.”

               And there it was. The thing that rubbed her the wrong way. How had she not seen it before? How had she not realized how he treated the poor waiter. Cody treated the guy like he didn’t even exist.

               “You can’t seriously think that, right?”

               “Why not? It’s true, isn’t it? People always get the best job they’re capable of getting. That’s just a fact of life. Anyone doing a crappy job like this doesn’t deserve anything more. Any they definitely don’t deserve handouts like tips. Now come on, we can continue an actual conversation at my place. I’ve got some great wine chilling right now.”

               She took a deep breath and took out her wallet, making sure to maintain eye contact with him the entire time. She pulled out enough for a 30% tip and left it on the table. The only time she looked down was to confirm how much she was giving.

               “No, I don’t think I’ll be joining you anymore.” She said. She stopped looking at him as she headed for the door.

               He looked at her with confusion as she left the restaurant, never to see him again. 

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Seriously people, tip your waiters and waitresses. You don't know their situation, and they probably depend on those tips more than you think.