Take a tip from me, give a gratuity to reward good services rendered

IT’S A long time ago, so I don’t think the Revenue will come after me, but I was briefly rich, writes Terry Prone.

I was a hat-check girl in Dublin Airport so long ago that the airport consisted only of one beautiful banana-shaped building with penny-in-the-slot machines through which visitors got to view incoming and outgoing planes. Of which there were at least three per hour, and no, they didn’t all have propellers.

I operated in a corner of the restaurant where I had a tiny table, a tiny chair, a booklet of tickets, a card of straight pins, and a long pole equipped with coat hangers on which to hang the outer clothing of diners. I gave each diner a half of the pink ticket and, having pinned the other half to the coat or jacket, let them off. Over the free lunch that was part of the deal — you could pick anything from the expensive menu — I got to know and adore the waiters, who were full of stories about the worst accidents they’d had.