Tipping is one of the policies of life we live with in our modern society. Its governed by these rules that when you look at them are simply baffling. How much to tip, when to tip? These are questions that could drive a man crazy.

These are the kinds of things that I stress about on a daily basis. Now that I don’t pass out every night, I have to grow through this strange process that civilians refer to as falling asleep. In those moments my mind races with all sorts of different things that happened that day. Did I play my cards right in this situation, or how could my entire life be impacted by this small decision I made.

I’ve found that a lot of those nights the subject of tipping comes up. No one, especially someone who cares so much about what other people think such as myself, wants to be labeled a bad tipper. That can affect you in so many ways, the possible ramifications are endless.

Why do does society deem that we tip certain members of society, but not others. Restaurants have it the best. In theory, tipping should be an extra reward that you give for good service. With waiters and waitresses however its just implied that they are going to receive a tip. They don’t get paid jack shit, because tipping is just an accepted custom with them. The level of service only determines how good the tip will be, and the fluctuation isn’t really that bad. If the service is horrible you leave 12% instead of 18% or such. Where’s their incentive to provide the excellent service, I don’t think that’s room enough.

It’s even crazier if you have a big group of people, then they put the tip right in for you. There’s no way around it. You would think that with a large group of people, the level of service would be even more important. Yet their tip is secured, the waiter definitely has no incentive here. I guess its just that they figure we are to ignorant to do basic math. If the numbers involved are too high, there’s no way these ignorant customers can figure it out. Is finding 20% out of $300.00 really that much more difficult than finding 20% out of $50.00. I don’t think so.

Yet people that work at say Taco Bell, we feel no need to tip. Do they do any less of a job than the chick at Denny’s that gets a tip, if they do its minuscule. Then you have places in the middle, Quizno’s for example puts a tip jar there so that you can add to it if need be. What makes Quizno’s that much different than KFC, there’s really no difference.

The one that drives me crazy is the one at Starbucks. They put that tip jar there and I always like to contribute. Sometimes I just toss the change, sometimes I put in a buck. The tricky part though is when to time your placement of the tip. What’s the point of giving the tip if they happen to look away right at the instance I toss my dollar in there. The hope there I think is that you’ll get the reputation of tipping, and then that’s gonna let me into the inner circle for secret benefits later on down the line. I’m the guy that always tips, so every once in awhile I figure their going to toss an extra extra shot into my frappuccino. Is that wrong? Does that defeat the whole purpose of tipping. Maybe they should put the tip charge at the pickup section so that you can toss something in if you think they’ve earned it. When you have to tip before service is rendered what barometer do you use.

One thing that I can’t stress enough though is not to go back into that tip jar. If your at Starbucks and pick a bad time, then you just have to live with it. If the instant you go to toss that dollar in, the hot emo chick turns to yell something at the coffee maker, that’s it your done. To then go back into the tip jar to get your dollar back is definitely crossing the line. Once it leaves your hand, its done. Remember that my friends.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that now pizza places that didn’t charge a delivery fee, have started charging one. So now do you just take that right off the top of the driver’s tip, or am I supposed to contribute my same usual tip amount. Here these dam places have slipped in an additional fee, and no one really causes that much of a fuss over it. It pisses me off. As someone who knows how to take care of his driver the right way, that fee is an insult.

That’s one thing I loved about Gainesville. That’s the only place I found where you could just assume that the delivery driver would be more than happy to take his tip in bong hits rather than money. Go Gainesville, you rock.

One of my favorite pastimes has always been sticking it to the man. There’s just something about it that seems to invigorate and lift my sprits like nothing else can, well except for cocaine. That however is neither here nor there.

My obsession with sticking it to the man has been evident ever since I was a young child. I remember being fascinated in my youth by the book The Anarchist Cookbook. Of course I never did any of the stuff that’s in the book, but just knowing about it was enough at that point. As I got older, that ended up not being enough.

My man sticking desires still exist today, but they’ve become much tamer. Take yesterday for example. On Monday’s at all the Duffy’s Sports Grills around town they have a promotion where if you have an MVP card all the entrees are $9.99. Now this is a hell of a bargain. Unfortunately for me, my favorite thing to get there is the Chicken Tenderloin Platter which checks in at $10.99 normally. Getting that on Monday it seems like a waste because you’re only saving a buck when you could get something like the full rack of Baby Back Ribs and save 6 or 7 dollars. So even though I want the chicken tenders and know that will make me happiest, I still don’t want to order it because then I feel like I’m getting screwed.

Isn’t the whole point of going out to eat so that you can get what you want? If there were no prices on the menu than I would order the chicken tenders no problem. Mainly because I think Park Ave’s ribs kill Duffy’s any day. There’s something though about Monday nights that makes me want to order the most expensive thing so that in my mind I’m sticking it to them the most. Who knows, their profit margin might even be bigger on the ribs anyway, I have no clue.

I did end up getting the chicken tenders, but I got them saucy and with blue cheese. Which normally costs an extra 99 cents, but I got it for free because I’m the man.

Another example happened this very morning. For those not in the loop today was free pastry day at Starbucks. If you were friends of theirs on Facebook or get their e-mails then you got a link to a coupon that you could either print out or bring up on your cell and show them today for a free pastry with your drink before 10:30am. I of course took this as an opportunity to get those bastards twice for it.

Sticking it to Starbucks for some reason is extra sweet, I guess it’s because they get me for a ridiculous amount of money every month. I wouldn’t even want to add it up, its scary, and I’ve even cut back a whole lot. Today, I got a small piece of my revenge on those Seattle smart asses. I went at 8:30 this morning to the one on Northlake while on my way to my probation meeting (that’s a story for another day, stay tuned). I got a free sweat bread with my normal solo venti no whip white mocha frappuccino (yes, I know it’s not the manliest of drinks, but fuck it). Afterwards I stopped at home on the way to work.

While at home I was relaxing for a few moments when I looked at the watch and realized that if I left right that instance I could stop and hit them again before work. I zipped on over to PGA and got another frap and a cinnamon roll. I walked out of there with a big smile on my face thinking of all the money that I had saved this morning. The ridiculousness only hits me when looking back at it. I still spent twice the money that I normally used to (I don’t even go every day anymore). I now realize that not only did I not really stick it to Starbucks, in fact I fell right into their trap.

My last instance is going back a little ways. It happened around when I went to rehab for the 2^nd time out in Baton Rouge, LA. I completed treatment there and decided to come back to Florida and move into a sober living facility. I got out of the rehab and they dropped me off at the airport.

I was dying to get a drink, but the bastards of course had left me with absolutely no money. I couldn’t even have gotten a soda at a vending machine if I wanted. So I’m miserable and board my plane. I had an aisle seat of course because I love to put my legs out. On my way back to my seat I noticed that the stewardess was standing by my seat. When I got there she informed me that my choices were either to sit in my assigned aisle seat next to two children, or switch to the middle seat that their mother had so she could sit with her two kids. Now I know I’m a nice guy so this was really no choice for me, of course I’m gonna let her switch seats with me. I hate middle seats, but I can deal with it.

There I am sitting in my middle seat just minding my own business when 5 minutes later the stewardess comes back and tells me that she’s sorry but I’m going to have to move again. I find it odd, but I just kinda sigh and say whatever. She starts walking and I follow her. She keeps going and I realize that she’s moving me up to first class. Money I think, for once in my life being a nice guy has finally paid off. Its my reward for all those times I was the nice guy like a complete jackass and the dumb blonde I was hitting on ended up fuckin the asshole.

After I sit down in my still uncomfortable yet plush by comparison chair, I have a revelation. This was all God’s plan. Here I was lamenting the fact that I couldn’t get a drink and what did the big fella do but plant me in the one place where drinks are free. I immediately call the attendant over and get a rum and coke. I had just left rehab and was going straight from the airport to a sober living facility, but what did I care, it was all part of god’s plan. I managed to down 4 rum and cokes on the short flight from New Orleans to Atlanta where I was switching planes. Those drinks were the best tasting drinks I think I’d ever had. Not only had I not had a drink in a long time, but they were also free. It was also a double sticking it to the man, because not only were they free due to being in first class, but I had not paid for the first class upgrade either.

Upon landing in Atlanta I was presented with a dilemma. Here I was a raging alcoholic who hadn’t had a drink in 2 months before that plane ride, and I was stuck with no money in the airport. Once again I was pissed. Then I got on the plane down to West Palm and I was back in coach like a schmuck. No one there was any the wiser to what I had done, but that is really neither here nor there.

Now I don’t really know exactly where this strange fascination within me has come from. I know its not that I’m a cheapskate or anything, because I waste money left and right. I grew up in Palm Beach for Christ sake. There’s just something so sweet about getting something for free or less than what the other losers have to pay for it. I think that’s really just part of being American, kinda like blowing shit up.