When I am by myself especially, I often tip quite large amounts. I don’t want to be seen as some sort of saint or for people to come groveling after me – I just know how crap service jobs are, and I just feel really fortunate that I can tip 40% on a haircut.
Another $10 is not much to me, but when you’re scraping bottom it’s a hell of a difference. I know. I remember.
And yeah, I did have a computer in my family as a kid. My dad was a mechanic, and traded labor for many things people didn’t want anymore. We ended up getting a lot of fairly decent if outdated items that way. In that, I was very lucky, even before my grandparents started to help us out and my life got much better. And it meant we almost always had transportation as my father, whatever his flaws, could fix damn near anything. I once watched him repair a lawnmower McGyver-style with a clothespin and a piece of water hose.
But I remember this being in the fridge and nothing else, for at least a week: two slices of white bread.
And I remember doing this: searching for change in the couch so that we could afford to get some gas to travel to town so that my grandmother could give us some groceries. (My mom was too proud to admit she had absolutely no money.)
And I remember my parents fighting all the time about money.
My mom was a waitress for a long time. I also remember her talking about her nice customers, the ones that gave her a big tip even though she’d a shitty day and might’ve taken it out on them a little. And how much difference that made.
I want to be that guy. I hope I am that guy. I will be that guy as long as I have more than I need.