I would like to add to the nonsenese from K's last post. It was going to eventually wind up in a post about people trying to sell me things when I'm minding my own business, but it's relevant in a round about way, so you all get a mutated post about just that....people who try to sell me things and tipping.
As a preference, when I am at the mall, I make a wide arc around the people trying to get me to try the hair straightener or just see how this sea salt scrub feels. I hate being asked if I want to try something. These people literally place themselves in your way and talk to you. I would have approached you if I was interested, so when I'm on my phone avoiding eye contct with you, take a hint and shove it where the sun don't shine. Likewise, I hate when people with causes approach me. If I'm trying to go to the metro at 8:30 in the morning, I'm probably trying to make it to work on time and I do not have time to help you legalize gay marriage, nor do I have time to hear you tell me how I'm killing the planet as I'm leaving the metro at 5:30. I want to go home, open a bottle of wine, and think about anything but Green Peace. Whales be damned, Say Yes to the Dress is on and it's the episode I missed from last week.
About a months ago, I was at CVS to pick up a few things immediately after work. I hate going someplace when I am still lugging my laptop around, but I did it because I needed toliet paper. As in CW didn't tell me we were out of toliet paper and I learned for myself at 6am that morning. Regardless, as I was entering CVS, where a homeless man thinks that by opening a door for me that I could otherwise open myself he deserves a tip (Nice try, but no thanks. Keep your cup out of my face and let me open my own door after I spray it down with lysol.), I am assaulted by someone who looks remarkably like the most henious ex I've ever had. To give you an idea, he looks something like Aaron Eckhart, which is too bad because I love Thank You For Smoking but I break out in hives when I watch it due to this resemblence.
As a preference, when I am at the mall, I make a wide arc around the people trying to get me to try the hair straightener or just see how this sea salt scrub feels. I hate being asked if I want to try something. These people literally place themselves in your way and talk to you. I would have approached you if I was interested, so when I'm on my phone avoiding eye contct with you, take a hint and shove it where the sun don't shine. Likewise, I hate when people with causes approach me. If I'm trying to go to the metro at 8:30 in the morning, I'm probably trying to make it to work on time and I do not have time to help you legalize gay marriage, nor do I have time to hear you tell me how I'm killing the planet as I'm leaving the metro at 5:30. I want to go home, open a bottle of wine, and think about anything but Green Peace. Whales be damned, Say Yes to the Dress is on and it's the episode I missed from last week.
About a months ago, I was at CVS to pick up a few things immediately after work. I hate going someplace when I am still lugging my laptop around, but I did it because I needed toliet paper. As in CW didn't tell me we were out of toliet paper and I learned for myself at 6am that morning. Regardless, as I was entering CVS, where a homeless man thinks that by opening a door for me that I could otherwise open myself he deserves a tip (Nice try, but no thanks. Keep your cup out of my face and let me open my own door after I spray it down with lysol.), I am assaulted by someone who looks remarkably like the most henious ex I've ever had. To give you an idea, he looks something like Aaron Eckhart, which is too bad because I love Thank You For Smoking but I break out in hives when I watch it due to this resemblence.
So Aaron Eckhart basically assaults with me friendliness. That sleezy friendliness. Hives started creeping up my leg. He was from the Washington Post and wanted to ask me a few questions, did I have a moment. I did what I do in a panick stricken state and just stared at him. He took this as a cue to start asking me questions. Did I read the post? Yes (I said yes, but I meant no, I only read the Wall Street Journal and the Express, which I guess is the WaPo). Great, he says, do I read the Sunday edition. Yes. (No, but I had a mental image of when my dad was visiting and picked up the WaPo on Sunday.) Excellent. Where did I buy said paper? At the Safeway across the street. (That's probably where dad bought it). Long story short, it resulted in me buying like 8 weeks of Sunday WaPo delivery, which I only use for the coupons. This is why I avoid people hawking things to me. I cannot say no because I am too polite to say I'm not interested while they're talking, then they go on for 15 minutes and at the end I feel like my inability to say no wasted their time and bingo....I'm out 20 bucks.
I've been receiving my paper for about 4 weeks now -- one of those weeks I stole what I presume was my paper from my neighbor's door since it never materialized and since I called after 11 about it, I was shit out of luck. No refund, no second delivery, nothing. They're fault....and I was going to pay for it? F that. So I stole my neighbor's paper, or my paper that was wrongly delivered. I've never seen them receive the paper, so I made an assumption and acted on it.
This Sunday, something unusual happened. When I dumped my paper out of it's plastic bag and went to read the Arts section, an envelope floated out. I wish I hadn't tossed it so I could have taken a picture, but I was so irritated by it that I chucked it immediately. The envelope was self addressed to someone who is not me. I turned it around and read: "If you wish to remember you paper carrier this holiday season, please use this envelope." I'm sorry, what?
I do understand tipping your mail carrier/trash dude. Maybe it's a Southern thing, K, but my mom always put a loaf of pumpkin bread in the mail box. Granted, in the world of anthrax and whatnot, I can imagnie you'd probably not consume it, but I get it. My mom later switched to candles...but we never did cash. In fact, in the South, unless you're talking to your valet, lawn man, hairdresser, etc (where you pay them) you did not gift someone cash who provided a service that you did not directly pay them to do. That's tacky. And in the South, tacky is about as bad as it gets.
Here's a brief guide for you Bitchy Words folks:
If you tip in $$ (whatever amount): valet, babysitter/dog sitter, hair dresser, nail salon, lawn man. Basically, people you pay in cash anyway for a service.
Do not tip in $$ (or at all if you don't want to): mail carrier, newspaper dude, trash man, essentially, any public service in which your taxes already pay their salary. I realize that my newspaper carrier is not a public service dude, but there's a reason this job was originally given to kids with bikes. It's that easy and it doesn't take $$$ to make a kid happy. Also keep in mind that I don't track down whoever reads my meters to give them something, nor do I tip the copy who sits outside of my building. My obscenly high taxes are my tip to the city and they can distribute in that employee fund as they see fit.
Really, while my mom might bake for a day and tip service people with those gifts...I don't feel the need to tip someone who is doing their job adequately. For that matter, I don't even tip my hair dresser, even though he is awesome. You're supposed to tip those kinds of people for a full service. Are you shitting me? In this economy? Hell, in ANY economy? ANOTHER 200 bucks on top of my hair cut/color is outrageous. I'm already getting screwed if ask me.
Bottom line: I'd consider tipping my mail carrier if every time I had a package he called me ahead of time to arrange a good time for me to be home and him to deliver it, or if I got a chocolate every day. No dice if you just stick mail in the slot and tell me I have to wait an hour in line to pick up a package you won't leave at my door.
My tip this year? Saying Merry Christmas. If I feel really generous, I might consider that you're from a different religious background and say Happy Holidays. But don't count on it.
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