Each year around that time of year when Christians celebrate
the birth of a special baby – whose name we cannot mention out of fear of
offending some atheist douchebag – the topic of “tips” arises as a form of
annual gift.
For those not so easily offended,
I refer to Christmas.
Tips are those things that are tokens of our appreciation of
the service that was extended to us, by service personnel, throughout the year.
Subject to receiving tips are people like barbers and
hairdressers, regular waiters, our caddies, and landscaping and lawn mowing
folks.
These people provide a service
for our monthly, weekly, and daily needs, and include newspaper deliverers,
garbage men, and even postal workers.
I must admit that in all my years of working at various
jobs, I never got a monetary tip.
This
is likely because my line of work – although rigorous and well performed – was
not subject to the average Joe giving me extra money for diligently doing my
work.
While this is not that generous time of year when gifts are
exchanged, it is a splendid tile to discuss giving tips to service personnel.
Our trashmen pick up our garbage twice weekly and arrive
during the early morn hours of betwixt 3:30 and between 6:00 am.
These are ungodly hours for retired folks who desperately
need their beauty rest.
The banging and
slamming of the cans is nothing compared to the roar of the giant truck that
can be heard making its way to my abode, blocks away.
Upon arrival, they feel the undying need to compact the
contents of the previous houses in front of my house.
This noisy operation usually wakes everyone
including the deceased – successfully, I might add.
When done with this un-ninja-like process, dogs-a-barking,
they toss my garbage can on my front lawn to be dealt with upon my retrieval of
my morning newspaper.
The paper is delivered daily at roughly 5:00 am, because
apparently there isn’t enough ado in my neighborhood before the sun rises.
Once again, with dogs agog and 0-dark-thirty
traffic jams, the hoopla continues.
My newspaper search begins.
Often it is on the lawn but, sometimes a little sport is
involved.
A few times it was beneath the
car, a couple of times it was on the neighbor’s lawn, twice I found it on the
roof, and once it floated away during a torrential rain storm.
When I talk about those Christmas tips, I am going to begin
a new tradition that will likely please no one but me.
To the garbage men, their tip will be to be quiet be for
7:00 am, and place my trash can upside-down on the curb. Do not let it roll around in the street in
order to cause a traffic wreck or simply be run-over dictating my need to buy
another new one.
And, to the newspaper gal, my proposed tip is to not make a
game out of where it will be when I gout to get it in the morning. I’m not on a treasure hunt or looking for
truffles.
Those are pretty good tips that should be appreciated and
savored year-round.
