You know, there’s a reason when I joke about the gun shop/shooting range in Timonium being located in the same building as the Timonium post office, that I’m really not joking. I do think someone was smoking crack when they thought it’d be a good idea to put those two together.

I have never actually backed over anyone’s mailbox, regardless of tip size.

Besides, there’d be more damage to my car than the mailbox, probably.

For some reason, some individuals enjoy ordering services and then not properly compensating the people providing those services. People go into restaraunts and stiff the waiter, or order a delivery and then stiff the pizza guy.

I don’t know if this happens often in sit-down restaraunts, but about half of the people who stiff me actually feel it neccessary to come up with an excuse. Today — a very very very slow day (eight runs in eleven hours of work) I was stiffed twice. The first kid didn’t feel the need to make an excuse — in return, I didn’t feel the need to lock his backyard gate on the way out, but I’m petty like that (hey, some assholes would’ve backed over his mailbox).

The second kid actually felt the need to make an excuse. “I’d tip you but …”

I understand that some times people are unexpectedly short of change. It’s one thing for a regular or semi-regular customer — okay, decent, or great tippers to be short of cash and not have enough for a tip. I’ve had a few customers who generally tip $5 or better on occasion barely have enough left over for a tip, and I’m not angry — they treat me well, and I’m going to have more patience with them as a result.

But some folks just can never cough up more than a buck for a tip, and some don’t even bother with that. Cheapskate assholes, but I understand, some people are always going to be cheapskates, even if they do have two expensive German cars in the driveway, a crew of Mexicans working on their yard, and a framed in addition on the back of their house.

What I don’t get are the people who feel guilty enough to make excuses for their stiffing, but never seem quite able to get to the point where they could either tip better or just go pick the food up themselves.

Oh, yes, here’s the secret to the fast-food delivery business: if you pick it up, there’s no obligation to tip!

Well, yes, you do have to spend precious minutes driving to the shop, precious gas expended in that trip, sometimes you might have to wait at the counter for a few minutes if the food isn’t ready, plus dealing with all that traffic? What a fucking downer. But, you don’t have to shell out the few singles for which you express your gratitude towards a delivery driver for using his car, his time, and his gasoline to drive through rush-hour traffic and inclement weather to bring a hot pizza to your door, requiring you to: get up, answer door, tip [shit-poor/poor/okay/decent/great/excellent/would you like a blowjob?], eat food.

Back to what I was talking about earlier … people who apologize for not tipping.

Most often, the people who apologize for not tipping also call up and ask as their first question over the phone, “I’ve got fifteen bucks. What can I get?” and proceed to place an order for as much food as fifteen dollars will buy. Well, good and great and all, but you know when you’re taking the order that these people are going to tip shit-poor and insult your intelligence by some lame-ass excuse. “Yeah, I’m a little short on cash…”

One day I’d like to be able to say: “Really? Because you spoke to me on the phone, you knew exactly how much cash you had, and if you’d really wanted to tip, you’d've left off the third order of cheesebread.”

But I can’t, so I just smile, nod, and run over their mailbox on the way out.

Sounds good to me!

(Actually, I’ve enough of the former, but do hope that my current weight loss continues and that I might start enjoying more of the latter).

*UPDATE*

Oh, right …

235 lbs, which, if you’re keeping track, means I gained back a pound.

For this week — more planning on what to eat, more exercise.