Tipping

Why do we base our tip amount on a percentage of the meal? So if a restaurant raises their prices, does that mean that the quality of the service suddenly got better? Does that mean that the waiter or waitress suddenly has more tasks to do and therefore deserves a larger tip? 

The price of the food is indicative of the quality of the food not the quality of the service. I have actually given less tip if the food is too expensive, figuring they can afford to pay their employees more since they're charging so much, so they don't need my tips to survive.

And why are we expected to give a certain percentage regardless of the service rendered? The standard nowadays is around 20%. Who came up with that arbitrary amount, and why did we all agree to it?

Why don't we base our tip amount on a list of defined tasks? For each task or service rendered, they earn a defined amount...not percentage. So, if I receive the same service at a hamburger joint that I receive at a 5-star restaurant, then they get the same tip.

It could go something like this:

• Makes sure my drinking glass is always full of liquid without me having to ask - $1
• Gets my order correct and comes back after the food is delivered to make sure it was prepared correctly - $1
• Checks on me several times throughout the meal to see if I need anything - $1
• If the food is taking too long, comes to the table to apologize and explain what's going on - $0.50 (bonus $1 if offers a complimentary something while we wait)
• Interacts with the table in a funny and personal way - $2
• Brings the bill at the right time without me having to ask - $1

In this way it becomes a reward system where they know what they need to do to earn the tip, we know how much to tip based on what they did, and the amount is consistent regardless of the restaurant or price of the food.

And why do we feel compelled to tip someone for doing their job? They don't even have to go above and beyond to get a tip, just do their job. Like tipping a taxi driver? Their job is to transport us from one location to another. Why should we tip for that? Now if they go above and beyond, like getting us there quickly or avoiding traffic by taking an alternate route, then ok. Or tipping my barber. I expect them to cut my hair and do it correctly. Why am I tipping for that? Now if they entertain me with conversation or consult on the best way to do my hair to be more advantageous to me, then ok. I just think that tipping should be in response to a service above and beyond, not just expected.

Just Be Yourself

People tell you to just be yourself. I know they mean to have the personality and style that is yours, whatever makes you feel comfortable. I know they are saying that you shouldn't let the world dictate who you're going to be or pretend to be someone else.

But what I think about is the freedom to walk around naked and just be free. I probably should move to a country like France or Italy where it's acceptable to be naked, but I'd need to be in a place with beautiful people. Because if other people are going to be naked too, I don't want them to be ugly. But not too beautiful, because I don't want to be the ugly guy either. So naked and the right amount of beautiful.

The Recycling Bin

The waste management company for our neighborhood recently decided to change the trash and recycling bins. They had one crew grab the bins on your normal trash or recycling day, and another crew brought you a new one later.

The problem was that we were out of town when they grabbed the recycling bin, which was fine because they grabbed it the next week. However, something happened because they never brought us a new one.

Our neighborhood is fairly new so they're still building houses on our street. So while driving one night, we saw a newly-constructed house that was still unoccupied. And lo and behold there was a brand new trash and recycling bin sitting in the driveway. So my wife and I got the bright idea to do a night raid and procure the unclaimed recycling bin.

We thought it would be a quick snatch and grab. So we dressed in dark clothing, waited until it was late, and quietly drove down the street. Everything was fine until we started to try to stuff the bin in the trunk. We didn't plan on the largeness of the bin or the physical limitations of our trunk. I can fit three dead bodies in it, but not one recycling bin!

I tried to maneuver that bin every way possible to no avail. I even tried holding it to the back of the car and roping the trunk down to hold it. Didn't work. I was growing more and more frustrated, not to mention more and more concerned that we looked more and more suspicious.

At one point, a man went walking by with his dog. I hissed at my wife to freeze. So there we stood, not moving, holding a recycling bin half in the trunk, waiting for this guy to slowly meander by us. It took what seemed like an eternity, as his dog decided to stop every six inches and smell something. The guy, completely oblivious and absorbed in his phone, never looked in our direction once.

After that close call, we resumed our heist with renewed vigor. But realizing now what a compromising position we were in, I was all ready to tie the bin to the bumper and just let it roll behind the car, or hang my arm out the window and roll it alongside. I was desperate and running out of creative ways to procure this stupid recycling bin.

That is when my wife decided to give her first suggestion. To her credit, she had stayed out of it and let me work through failed plan after failed plan, laughing silently to herself as each one escalated into more ridiculousness. But enough was enough, so she finally said, "Why don't you just put it in the back seat?"

I sighed with frustration at her stupid idea. But I held in most of my feelings and talked to her in that "humor the dummy" voice that we all have and pull out from time to time. "It obviously won't fit through the door, which is smaller than the trunk opening," I replied. "Maybe it will, have you tried?" she asked. "No, because I can see it wont fit. It's a spacial awareness problem. I have always had better spacial awareness than you, so just trust me." 

Getting annoyed, she grabbed the bin from my hands, flung the back door open, and shoved it in in one smooth motion. She closed the door, looked at me and smiled, and said in that "humor the dummy" voice that we all have and pull out from time to time, "I guess you were right...spacial awareness."

In the end, I really don't care, because I had my stolen recycling bin, which proved harder to get out of the car than to get in it. But that's another story.