[Wordpress has gone to a new format. I cannot decide if I like it or not. I haven’t had time since it changed yesterday afternoon to figure it out. So instead I log on, whimper at everything being in the wrong place, and start writing. Don’t ask how long it took yesterday to find the “new post” button]
So it’s that time of year again. Do I tip peripheral workers, or no? People I’ve never met. People like the milkman (Yes we have a milkman. Yes it is organic happy milk from hippie cows. Yes they make killer eggnog that makes Tom’s eyes roll up into his skull). I’ve never met the guy; he’s on my front porch at 3 am. If I’m up at 3 am, there’d damn well either be a newborn or a vomit virus in my house. He bringeth milk. He taketh empties. Do I tip? How much?
What about the paper delivery dude? It’d be great if my paper actually made it to my porch, but the boys fight over who gets to retrieve it, so it’s a moot point. Do I tip? How much?
The mailman. I have to walk my lazy ass around the corner to pick up my mail, it’s not delivered to my porch. I’ve never met the mailman/woman/person/sentient robot. I do know that the person we have now is considerably better than the guy we had previously. It was not uncommon to find random bills under the mailboxes, and I’d frequently receive my neighbors’ mail. On the upside, I met a lot of my neighbors that way. Do I tip? How much?
The FedEx gal has brought so many boxes to my house that I’d tip her in a heartbeat…but by the time I get to the door, she has already pulled out of my driveway. She rocks.
My hairdresser, who I’ve had for 7 years, gets tipped, usually a Starbucks gift card that supports her caffeine habit.
My babysitters get tipped…’cause if you’ve cared for my boys you’ve earned a tip, and maybe combat pay.
It’s a tough call. I guess I tip those who I know, and send general blessings through the universe to those I don’t know. Sorry, milkman, you’re getting blessings this year.
Now on to teachers…sigh…
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