DEAR ABBY: My wife and I go out for lunch quite often. Our check is typically about $15, to which I customarily add a 15 percent tip.

My problem is the food servers who ask if I want my change back. This puts me in an awkward situation because it appears that the server is expecting a $5 tip, which in my opinion is too much for a $15 check.

Abby, this happens all the time, and it's getting me steamed. I think it's totally improper for a food server to ask for a tip, and to specify the amount.

How would you handle a situation like this? -- STEAMED IN BOSTON

DEAR STEAMED: I would tell the server that, yes, I wanted my change. Then I'd leave a 15 or 20 percent tip, depending on the service I'd received. Although in the past, servers have written to tell me that the question is asked to save a trip back to the table, I consider it to be presumptuous. Servers should courteously return change to the customer as a matter of course.

DEAR ABBY: This letter is in response to "Lost in North Carolina," who has herpes.

I am fortunate to be in a relationship with a fine woman who knows how much she is worth and brings joy and a great attitude into my life and the lives of her children. Yes, she has herpes. She had it long before I met her, and I knew she had it before I asked her to go out with me. She had so many of the important qualities I was looking for in a woman that it was not an issue.

With proper care and proper precaution, "Lost in North Carolina" can have a normal life and a great sex life to go with it. My darling and I have been together two years, and I have not contracted herpes. I expect to live a long life with her and not have a problem. And if I get herpes, it will not be the end of the world. There is life after herpes.

To "Lost," I would say, "Start believing in yourself and don't look for reasons to fail. If you think no one will want you, it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The fact that you have herpes will not stop someone from loving you. What will is a defeatist attitude." Sign me ... HOLDING THE HAND OF SOMEONE WHO'S BEEN THERE

DEAR HOLDING: I subscribe to your philosophy for successful living -- and it applies to more challenges than herpes. Thank you for a helpful letter. Read on:

DEAR ABBY: I write to offer hope to the lady who confided to you that she feels that now she has genital herpes, no one will ever want her.

When I caught genital herpes two years ago, I felt the same way. Back then I took your advice and contacted the Herpes Foundation. These caring people got me set up with my local support chapter and I began attending their monthly meetings. Through these meetings I met my soul mate, who is also afflicted.

We plan to be married in the future. Out of something bad came something wonderful! I hope this helps the woman who wrote to you by letting her know that all is not lost. -- LIVING (WELL) IN MESA, ARIZ.

DEAR ABBY: I have a problem that may not seem like a big deal to most people, but it really bothers me.

I meet people, and the next time I see them, they do not remember having met me. While I can't always remember the name of a new acquaintance, I can at least remember having met that person.

Abby, it's a blow to my ego when someone has no recollection of having met me. I admit that I am on the shy and quiet side; perhaps that is why I'm not remembered.

Is there anything I can do to make a lasting impression? -- MR. FORGETTABLE

DEAR MR.: A good way to be remembered is to pay a new acquaintance a compliment. You need not go overboard, but everyone appreciates being complimented.

To receive a collection of Abby's most memorable -- and most frequently requested -- poems and essays, send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby's "Keepers," P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)

DEAR ABBY: As a young woman with a hearing impairment, I am grateful for TTY (Text Teletypewriter) and TDD (Telecommunications Device for the Deaf), but I find that a large segment of the population is not familiar with these wonderful services.

Many people are intimidated by TTY or TDD. Most secretaries, receptionists and business people don't have a clue as to how to deal with a TTY client. A changed appointment date can turn an entire office into a tizzy. They don't know how to notify me. Some believe they must have a TTY phone to contact a TTY user, which is not the case. Most are unnerved by the process and simply do not bother, leaving those with a hearing impairment isolated and uninformed. I hope this letter will help people better understand and use TTY and TDD.

Instead of the usual handset, a TTY phone has a keyboard and a display panel. These phones are owned by persons who have a hearing deficiency and have difficulty understanding speech. Instead of hearing, one SEES the messages as they are transmitted by means of a telephone line.

To talk to the user of a TTY phone, you do not need a special phone. Simply dial a relay service, and calling assistants will make the connection for you. The relay number (a toll-free 800 number) is shown in the information pages at the front of every telephone directory. Use this number regardless of the destination of your call.

Once the calling assistant has made the connection and the phone is answered, your oral responses are typed for the hearing-impaired person, who reads it and types a response that the calling assistant reads to you. Thus, a conversation can be carried on. I cannot praise calling assistants highly enough. These men and women are paragons of patience and perform their duties with tact and decorum.

Abby, I and many others would appreciate your publishing this information about TTY and TDD, which for those with hearing impairments means the difference between being able to conduct one's own affairs or having to depend on others. -- L.L. LARSON, FRANKLIN, WIS.

DEAR L.L: I, too, have been hesitant to conduct a TTY phone call in the past. Thank you for a fascinating letter that will educate countless readers, as it did me.

DEAR ABBY: My wife is a fanatic about health. Shortly after we were married more than 50 years ago, she got the idea that smoking is bad for people. She solved my smoking problem her way. Every time I reached for a cigarette, she whacked me and stomped on the cigarette. I haven't smoked for the last 40 years.

She studied nutrition and diet and directed me to good health. When I reached for a not-so-healthy spoonful, I had to listen to a half-hour lecture. She yells at me, "It's time for our mile walk." I don't argue. We walk about five miles a week.

As a result of this behavior, my health is above average for my age. She has been a guardian angel to this ordinary husband. How can I show my sincere appreciation for the happier and healthier life I've enjoyed because of her? -- LUCKY OLD GUY IN OREGON

DEAR LUCKY: You just did. Place this column next to her jar of wheat germ in the morning. I wish you both many more years of good health.

For an excellent guide to becoming a better conversationalist and a more attractive person, order "How to Be Popular." Send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby Popularity Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)

DEAR ABBY: This is in response to the letter from "Ice-Cream Truck Hater," who complained that ice-cream trucks make too much noise. You advised this person not to fight an "American institution, akin to Mom and apple pie." I believe you overlooked an important point:

The practice of driving ice-cream trucks through the neighborhood may be old, but the electronic music they play nowadays is not. I remember when I was young, the ice-cream truck played a soft bell -- something quieter and less obnoxious than the tinny, constantly recycled "music" that blasts from loudspeakers. You can hear them a mile away.

Noise pollution is bound to get worse. I suggest that "Ice-Cream Truck Hater" pressure City Hall to pass an ordinance that will keep noise to a minimum. That's what we did, and our neighborhood is now peaceful again. -- NO MORE NOISY NUISANCE

DEAR NO MORE: I was surprised at the amount of emotion stirred up by ice-cream trucks. From the descriptions of many readers, the new versions are both unpleasant and intrusive. Many neighborhoods have banded together to ban excessive noise and limit the number of times a truck can drive through their neighborhood.

In fairness, however, I did hear from readers for whom the mention of ice-cream trucks evoked wonderful memories. Read on:

DEAR ABBY: Ice-cream trucks are a beautiful reminder. I frequently baby-sat my older grandchildren. I watched with them as the "pretty music" trucks drove by. Sometimes we sang along with the music or made up stories that fit it.

One day, the oldest came running in with the news: "Granny, did you know that those music trucks sell ice cream?" I pretended to be shocked. "Really, Granny," he insisted. "Uncle Eddie bought me one yesterday."

My tightly kept secret was out. My grandson turned 19 last week, and he still checks the freezer when he drops by. Thanks for the sweet memory. -- HAPPY GRANNY OF 10

DEAR HAPPY GRANNY: You are not the only reader who wrote to share a happy memory recalled because of the letter from "Ice-Cream Truck Hater." Read on:

DEAR ABBY: My children were older and in school when the ice-cream truck came by our house, but when Luke, my large German shepherd, heard it, he'd come flying into the house, barking and jumping into the air.

I'd grab my change purse, and Luke and I would join the neighborhood children in line. I'd buy myself an ice-cream sandwich and Luke a cone. The look on his face as he lay in front of my garage, with his two front paws tightly wrapped around his ice-cream cone, was something to see. Every lick was a moment of sheer bliss. I'll always treasure the memory of Luke and me and the ice-cream truck. Thanks for the memories, Abby. -- SADIE FALK, SCOTTSDALE, ARIZ.

DEAR ABBY: What can I say when my 6-year-old grandson asks, "Why are you divorced?" -- GRANDMOTHER

DEAR GRANDMOTHER: Make it brief and honest. Say, "Honey, we just couldn't get along with each other."

Everybody has a problem. What's yours? Get it off your chest by writing to Dear Abby, P.O. Box 69440, Los Angeles, Calif. 90069. For a personal reply, please enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope.