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The largest municipal bankruptcy in U.S. history took a major step forward Tuesday when a federal judge ruled that the city of Detroit is eligible for protection under Chapter 9 of the U.S. bankruptcy code.

The embattled city is trying to work its way out from under $18.5 billion in debt. In issuing his decision, Judge Steven Rhodes said "the court finds that Detroit was and is insolvent." Rhodes also said the city can seek to cut pensions for its retirees as it works to reduce its debt. He also cautioned, though, that such cuts must be fair and equitable — a signal he won't rubber-stamp the city's decisions.

Unions and pension funds had argued in court that the city did not bargain with them in good faith before filing for Chapter 9 protection. On that point, Rhodes had critical words for the city's negotiators: "Charitably stated, the [city's] proposal is very summary in nature," he said of Detroit's offer to unions and creditors. He also "scolded" the city for hurrying the negotiations, the Detroit Free Press reports.

But Rhodes concluded it would have been "impracticable" for the city to negotiate in good faith. "In other words," writes Detroit's WXYZ-TV, the city's financial situation was "so dire that negotiating in good faith would not have been realistic."

The city's bankruptcy case, Rhodes said, should not be dismissed over the "good faith" bargaining issue. "This case was filed in good faith and should not be dismissed," he ruled.

We've posted previously about what happens after a municipality gets bankruptcy protection. It's expected to be years before Detroit settles with all its creditors and finds ways to further reduce its labor costs and cut pension benefits. Federal bankruptcy courts will still be overseeing the process. Next up for the city, according to the Free Press:

"Emergency manager Kevyn Orr would proceed with plans to propose a massive restructuring plan, called a 'plan of adjustment,' by the end of the month. The plan would include offers to bondholders, retirees and unions and likely would also include the proposed sale of assets, such as [Detroit Institute of Arts] property and the city's water and sewer department. Several creditors have already signaled they plan to appeal."

Imagine how Robbie Travis felt. He waits tables at Libertine, a high-end restaurant just outside St. Louis, and his ex insisted on coming in just a few days after they'd broken up.

Like everyone else, waiters and waitresses have to show up for work on days they'd rather be anywhere else. But it's especially tough to shrug off a bad mood in a job where people expect you to greet them gladly.

"You have to fake it a little bit," Travis says. "That's what pays the bills."

When I've asked servers lately how they were doing, the answers ranged from "hanging in there" to "excellent — no, great!" No one has come out and said they were lousy.

But when I asked what it's like to have to wait on people when they've been distracted by bad news, every one of them had a story.

"I've had plenty of bad days. I've had deaths in the family," says Emily Nevius, a waitress at Longfellow Grill in Minneapolis. "But it's work and you put your work face on."

Similarly, Laura Abusager, who has waited tables in Bloomington, Ill., for the past five years, says she tries to put on a "poker face" when she's dealing with issues in the rest of her life. She feels like her work doesn't suffer, but she says her coworkers can always tell when things are going wrong at home or in relationships.

The customers, too. "I feel like I get better tips when I'm in a good mood," Abusager says, "and when I'm in a bad mood, it's like they can sense it."

Restaurant owners and managers know servers who can be fun and flirty or at least chatty and attentive not only get better tips, but add to the quality of the dining out experience in a way that's crucial to the bottom line. (Indeed, psychological research supports the idea that friendlier waiters get better tips.)

Except for real regulars, customers don't know about their waiter's life and don't want to know about it, says Meredith Berkowitz, Travis' coworker at Libertine.

"We do meetings here where they tell us to leave our problems at home," says Davee Crain, a waiter at Geno's East pizzeria in Chicago.

Performance matters. There's an old cliche about people who wait tables all being aspiring actors, but it's clear that acting is a big part of their day jobs.

"It's an acting job," Crain says. "It's a mask."

Waiters who are having a really bad day can always borrow a trick from Ann Patchett.

"Even if you make mistakes — you forget to put in their orders or you put in the wrong order or you drop their drinks on their heads, which I did once — you can tell them it's your first day," the novelist told a St. Louis audience during her current book tour. "Even if you've been doing it a long time, if you tell them it's your first day, they'll give you a 50 percent tip."

Each year Transparency International releases its Corruption Perception Index, and this year, like most, the Scandinavian countries and New Zealand were at one end of the spectrum as the least-corrupt nations in the world.

In the category of most-corrupt, there was a three-way tie: Afghanistan, North Korea and Somalia.

The index by the watchdog group measures the perception of corruption in a country's public sector. It ranks nations on a scale from 0 (highly corrupt) to 100 (squeaky clean). Two-thirds of the 177 countries on the list scored below 50.

The U.S. was among the least corrupt at No. 19 on the list, with a score of 73.

Other takeaways:

— Corruption in Spain, reeling from the effects of the economic crisis, worsened. It dropped six points to 59, and was 40th on the list. Greece, by contrast, was 80th, with a score of 40 — an improvement over its score last year. Reuters reports:

"Spain's five-year economic slump, which has forced it to adopt tight austerity laws, exposed how cozy relations between politicians and construction magnates fed a disastrous housing bubble. The former treasurer of the governing People's Party (PP) told a judge that he had channeled cash donations from construction magnates into leaders' pockets, and he was found to have 48 million euros in Swiss bank accounts. The king's son-in-law, Inaki Urdangarin, was also charged this year with embezzling six million euros in public funds."

Imagine how Robbie Travis felt. He waits tables at Libertine, a high-end restaurant just outside St. Louis, and his ex insisted on coming in just a few days after they'd broken up.

Like everyone else, waiters and waitresses have to show up for work on days they'd rather be anywhere else. But it's especially tough to shrug off a bad mood in a job where people expect you to greet them gladly.

"You have to fake it a little bit," Travis says. "That's what pays the bills."

When I've asked servers lately how they were doing, the answers ranged from "hanging in there" to "excellent — no, great!" No one has come out and said they were lousy.

But when I asked what it's like to have to wait on people when they've been distracted by bad news, every one of them had a story.

"I've had plenty of bad days. I've had deaths in the family," says Emily Nevius, a waitress at Longfellow Grill in Minneapolis. "But it's work and you put your work face on."

Similarly, Laura Abusager, who has waited tables in Bloomington, Ill., for the past five years, says she tries to put on a "poker face" when she's dealing with issues in the rest of her life. She feels like her work doesn't suffer, but she says her coworkers can always tell when things are going wrong at home or in relationships.

The customers, too. "I feel like I get better tips when I'm in a good mood," Abusager says, "and when I'm in a bad mood, it's like they can sense it."

Restaurant owners and managers know servers who can be fun and flirty or at least chatty and attentive not only get better tips, but add to the quality of the dining out experience in a way that's crucial to the bottom line. (Indeed, psychological research supports the idea that friendlier waiters get better tips.)

Except for real regulars, customers don't know about their waiter's life and don't want to know about it, says Meredith Berkowitz, Travis' coworker at Libertine.

"We do meetings here where they tell us to leave our problems at home," says Davee Crain, a waiter at Geno's East pizzeria in Chicago.

Performance matters. There's an old cliche about people who wait tables all being aspiring actors, but it's clear that acting is a big part of their day jobs.

"It's an acting job," Crain says. "It's a mask."

Waiters who are having a really bad day can always borrow a trick from Ann Patchett.

"Even if you make mistakes — you forget to put in their orders or your put in the wrong order or you drop their drinks on their heads, which I did once — you can tell them it's your first day," the novelist told a St. Louis audience during her current book tour. "Even if you've been doing it a long time, if you tell them it's your first day, they'll give you a 50 percent tip."