Do you routinely check the check in a restaurant or at a hotel before you write a cheque, sign the credit card slip or fork over the cash?

Do you check your change, if you pay cash?

There was a time when I didn't do any of these things, because I was too "cool", i.e. dumb.

I thought that checking the bill made me look cheap in front of whomever I was with, so I just used to add service, sign, and hope everyone noticed how suave I was.

Two examples this week - I've been doing a spot of riotous living - prompted these remarks. One was sort of funny, and one wasn't.

We'll get the serious one out of the way first, because it affects Bermuda's reputation more than it affects me. (How refreshing, you're thinking, that I have finally acknowledged that something is more important than my goodself.)

I took some pals from the UK out to dinner in Hamilton on Monday.

We had an excellent meal and, being non-drinkers, ran up a tab of only about $100. I offered my credit card to pay, because I like the air miles that come with using it.

The waiter brought the bill. The total was printed on it, and the line for adding service was left open.

There was nothing on the bill to indicate that service had already been added. Now, I happen to know that this restaurant is one of the great majority of Bermudian restaurants that tacks on 15 percent service before the total is calculated.

I double-checked and was right, so I signed only for the requested amount.

Had I been an American tourist, used to American ways, I might very well have presumed that service was not included, and added some more to the bill.

Sorry, restaurant guys, that's cheating. It's bad enough that we have to pay 15 percent automatically, regardless of the quality of the service.

That rule was enforced by the Bermuda Industrial Union to protect Bermudian wait staff, although there are now barely any Bermudian wait staff.

But to invite me to pay a further percentage is immoral, and ought to be illegal.

This restaurant's owners employ a well-respected Government Minister. I call on him or the Minister of Tourism to introduce a law to punish anyone who invites customers to pay twice for service.

The chances of that happening are zero percent. Have a nice day, tourists. We apparently view you as suckers.

On to lighter matters. I spent a few days at the Fairmont Southampton Princess hotel this week, due to having pulled a 72-hours straight workload during the Captive Conference, which was a stunning success on every possible front. I met some wonderful people and saw Bermuda at its very best.

Checking out, I looked at my bill.

Lurking among the charges was a $4 item from the Refreshment Centre. Four bucks isn't much, and I was prepared to pay it, since my trip had indeed refreshed me.

I don't actually know where the Refreshment Centre is, so I couldn't have visited it, but I was in a powerfully good mood, and the Princess people always treat me like a king, so what the hey.

It turns out that the Refreshment Centre is the mini-bar in your room, and here we enter troubled waters, at about $6 a bottle.

Let me say first, loud and clear, that upon my querying the charge, it was immediately removed from the bill without question, so what follows isn't about the Fairmont chain at all.

It's about mini-bars in general, and, as it happens, the Marriott hotels' mini-bars in particular.

The mini-bar is the devil's work, unless you're on unlimited expenses. It sits there, quietly, luring you into consuming booze and chocolate and peanuts, at prices you can't afford.

Most good hotels, including the Fairmonts, offer you the choice of not having a mini-bar key, which solves the problem.

As the goodies sing out your name in the dead of night, you can easily ignore them, since there's no way of getting to them other than smashing the mini-bar with a jackhammer, an item I often forget to pack.

Mini-bars actually serve a useful purpose for those who can resist their blandishments. By charging expense account people and rich types about 300 times the going rate, they keep hotel prices down for the rest of us. Bravo.

But having M&Ms in the room, inches away from the bed, isn't cricket, because no man can resist eating a chocolate bar if it's nearby. (Women are often better at resisting, at least in my experience).

For three days and three long nights, I manfully resisted eating the M&Ms, and for that matter the Kit-Kat and Snickers, not to mention the Pringles and other even more wonderful goodies.

OK, I kind of looked at them longingly a few times, but when push came to shove, I didn't want them at any price, because I already weigh 900 pounds.

So to be charged four bucks, following my heroic Ghandi-style behaviour, sort of rankled.

I went down to the check-out ready for a firefight, but was disarmed by the unusual experience of being believed without question by a stranger with access to my wallet.

Which brings me on to the Marriott chain. First, they don't allow smoking anywhere in their North American chain, which is Fascist behaviour (author's opinion -Ed).

But the Marriott family and their hospitality henchmen do allow smoking in their European hotels.

However: lest you think they want you to enjoy yourself, you should know something else about Marriott hotels, in case you ever stay in one.

First, though, I'm going to have to calm down because what I'm about to tell you makes me so angry that my fists are clenched and it's hard to type.

The Marriott mini-bars in at least one hotel are wired so that if you merely pick up a bottle from the bar, and then replace it unconsumed, you still have to pay for it.

Yes, you read that right. Marriott charges its customers just for looking at a bottle of beer.

Come to think of it, the wiring must have cost billions, so even those who don't look are paying as well.

What we have here is a culture in which the customer is always wrong, except at the Fairmont chain. For Bermuda restaurants to be trying to trick their customers into overpaying is just plain wrong, and should be stopped forthwith.

For Marriott to charge you for nothing is a different kind of crime, and somewhere out there is a Mussolini-style lamppost with Bill Marriott's name on it. (He might already be dead).

Anyway, check those bills, is my point. That's all I have to say this week.You may now resume normal living.