A Tip: Serve Up A Little Generosity

Good morning and welcome to today’s column. When you are done reading, please drop a tip in the mail.

This is what the world is coming to, it seems. Asking for tips.

Tip jars. Tip glasses. Tip bowls, boxes and buckets. I have even seen a tip abalone shell. You see them everywhere. In cafes, coffee houses and bagel shops. In burrito huts, pizza parlors, burger joints. Doughnut shops, ice cream shops, sandwich shops.

I half expect my bank teller to put out a tip jar soon.

“Tips!”

“Tips, Please!”

“Leave your change, will ya!”

Actually, I haven’t seen the latter sign on a jar or conch shell – yet. But I did see a humorous threat in the pick-up window of a gourmet food truck: “Every Time You Don’t Tip A Child Gets A Mullet Haircut.”

Yes, as Bob Dylan sang, “The times they are a-changin’.”

Rather, these are “Got any loose change?” times.

At first blush these solicitations can leave a customer cold. I mean, why should you tip the barista who made your double-mocha-skinny-latte? Or the cashier who rings up the take-out order you are picking up? Isn’t that their job?

Well, yes. But is it not a waitresses/waiter’s job to take your order, serve your food and clear the table? Sure it is, yet we think nothing of leaving them a tip.

Actually, sometimes we think A LOT about it – as in trying to mentally calculate percentages to know how much to tip. But I digress.

The point is this: It is expected that we leave tips in sit-down restaurants because the waitstaff depends on “gratuities” to bring their pay at least up to minimum wage.

Personally, I wish all restaurant owners would just raise their menu prices 20 percent and pass 100 percent of this bump along to workers and save us the math-induced migraine.

The thing is, if anyone could use a booster shot for anemic wages more than waitresses and busboys it is hamburger helpers and teen-agers scooping ice cream.

And while 15 or 20 percent of a nice restaurant bill can be a tidy sum, a similar tip on a take-away bagel breakfast or pizza lunch deal is certainly not going to make you fall shy on your next car payment.

And yet how often do we ignore the tip jar/glass/bowl/box/bucket/abalone shell? Sometimes, if you are at all like me, your intentions are good but the paltry change you receive back from the cashier seems like an insult to drop in the tip jar.

This isn’t a valid excuse because folding money is what we really should drop in. A dollar or two still often falls short of a 15-percent tip.

You will be surprised how grateful the person behind the counter will be for a two-buck tip. Drop an Abraham Lincoln or Alexander Hamilton in the jar/glass/bowl/box/bucket/abalone shell and you will almost see cartwheels of gratitude.

Indeed, I now embrace tip jars because the workers truly make it feel like you have given a “gratuity” instead of giving something expected.

In fact, I am disappointed when there isn’t a tip jar. This was especially the case when my take-out tab was nine cents over an even-dollar amount and I had no dime or any change. Nine cents was too much to take from the spare-penny dish, so I was doomed to getting back a pocketful of loose change.

Then my luck changed. The young man behind the counter gave me one of my dollar bills back, smiled, reached into his pocket and dropped his own dime into the register.

            With no tip jar, beyond a warm thank you the only gratuity I could give was to sing his praises to the manager.

And if you really want a philanthropic feeling for very little cost, tip a kid running a lemonade stand. I recently stopped to buy a $1 glass from two cute young girls.

Their glee made it the best five bucks I can remember spending in a long time when I put the change of four singles in – what else? – their decorated tip jar.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

• Personalized signed copies are available at WoodyWoodburn.com
• Unsigned paperbacks or Kindle ebook can be purchased here at Amazon

 Mr. Nice Guy? He Just Clocked Out

If you were expecting 700 words of nice this morning, phone your grandma. I’m still in an I’m Tired From Springing Forward And Losing One Hour Of Sleep kind of mood.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Daylight Saving Time – I just get annoyed we keep turning the clocks back each fall.

I get annoyed when I buy a new “anything” and three weeks later a better version comes out – often costing less.

I get annoyed when the updated model of my favorite running shoes now only comes in a color scheme that would make a clown blush.

I get annoyed when autocorrect makes me look like a stop sign cool – er, stupid fool.

I get annoyed when I read the news crawl across the bottom of the TV screen and then lose track of what the news anchor is saying.

I get annoyed when the Santa Ana winds make a mess the day after I did yard work.

I get annoyed when I’m watching a sporting event on TV and the sideline reporter interviews a celebrity in the stands, and the producer insists on showing the celebrity full-screen while the game action is shrunk into a tiny insert frame where I can’t see a darn thing. Vice versa please!

I get annoyed by knuckleheads – yo-yo-heads my daughter calls them.

I get annoyed when yo-yo-head politicians open their mouths.

I get annoyed when Paul McCartney closes his mouth after the final encore.

I get annoyed when my yo-yo-head picks basically eliminate me from the NCAA Basketball Tournament bracket pool by the end of the first weekend.

I get annoyed that school children see a need to send military care packages filled with requested items like sun block, ChapStick, socks, underwear, flip-flops, Pringles, powdered Crystal Light, Oreos, trail mix, jerky, granola bars and gum. If our troops want these items, the military should be providing them! Let kids send letters, cards and handmade items.

I get annoyed when my dental insurance won’t pay if I schedule a cleaning even one day less than a full six months apart.

I get angry when instead of a “12 Angry Men”-like verdict of justice I feel a trial has been decided by 12 Dopey Men And Women.

            I get annoyed when I see litter anywhere – most especially cigarette butts on our beaches.

            Closing on an upbeat, a recent post titled “10 Customer Service Stories That Will Restore Your Faith In Humanity” on blog.bufferapp.com did not annoy me.

            My favorite of the 10 happened after a young boy named Luka Apps spent his Christmas gift money on a Lego Ninjago named Jay XZ, only to lose the toy ninja when he brought it along on errands against his dad’s advice.

            Devastated, Luka wrote to Lego and explained his mistake while promising to be much more careful in the future if they would replace it.

            A customer support rep named Richard responded like an action figure hero brought to life, telling the boy he had talked to Sensei Wu (a Ninjago character) and further writing: “He told me to tell you, ‘Luka, your father seems like a very wise man. You must always protect your Ninjago minifigures like the dragons protect the Weapons of Spinjitzu!’

“Sensei Wu also told me it was okay if I sent you a new Jay and told me it would be okay if I included something extra for you because anyone that saves their Christmas money to buy the Ultrasonic Raider must be a really big Ninjago fan.

“So, I hope you enjoy your Jay minifigure with all his weapons. You will actually have the only Jay minifigure that combines 3 different Jays into one! I am also going to send you a bad guy for him to fight!

“Just remember, what Sensei Wu said: keep your minifigures protected like the Weapons of Spinjitzu! And of course, always listen to your dad.”

I’m annoyed I didn’t think to write to Hasbro when I was Luka’s age after I broke a leg off my G.I. Joe scuba diver only days after buying it with my saved allowance money.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

• Personalized signed copies are available at WoodyWoodburn.com
• Unsigned paperbacks or Kindle ebook can be purchased here at Amazon

Rain, Snow and the Art of Appreciation

As you were drifting off to sleep during the recent storms, did you hear the nighttime raindrops dancing on your rooftop?

I mean really hear nature’s symphony? To these ears, a Mozart piano concerto was never lovelier.

            And after the clouds cleared did you see the Monet-like brushstrokes left behind on our mountains? To be honest, I missed them until a friend shared an encounter she had during her daily morning walk.

            Standing smack-dab in the middle of the street in her neighborhood was a man she had never before seen. Her first thought was, “What is he doing?” And a second: “I hope he doesn’t get run over.”

            As she passed, the man said, “I was just taking a moment before work to appreciate the snow on the mountains. We just moved here.”

            With that he climbed into his truck and drove off, his day off to a grander start than had he been in a hurried rush.

            As my friend noted afterwards: “We hear all the time about gratitude; appreciation for little things; things we take for granted. Find them – just don’t get hit by a car!”

Sometimes we all need reminders of our blind spots, our deaf spots, of things – both little and large – we take for granted. We need fresh counsel on an old maxim by Walter Hagen: “Don’t hurry. Don’t worry. You’re only here for a short visit. So don’t forget to stop and smell the roses.”

Also, stop and look at the snow on the mountains.

            “The journey is better than the inn,” is how Cervantes poetically put this Zen-like ideal in the 17 th century.

            Much more recently in “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values,” first published in 1974, Robert M. Pirsig wrote about climbing a mountain and how too many people focus only on reaching its summit:

“When you’re no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn’t just a means to an end but a unique event in itself. THIS leaf has jagged edges. THIS rock looks loose. These are things you should notice. To live only for some future goal is shallow. It’s the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top. Here’s where things grow.”

Here’s where things grow, indeed, and life’s sustaining pleasures happen.

Here’s where mountains are frosted with snow.

Here’s where children laugh on a merry-go-round and smile as melting ice cream drips down their chins and scream with delight when a rogue wave crashes into a sandcastle.

Here’s firefly-like sparks rising above a glowing campfire.

Here’s a child’s kite and a Monarch butterfly both dancing on a shared breeze.

Here’s where the shade beneath the canopy of a magnificent oak is perfect for reading or napping or daydreaming.

Here’s a seagull gracefully suspended without even flapping its wings.

Here’s a father running alongside as his young daughter learns to ride a two-wheeler, the girl unaware her dad is no longer holding the seat to provide balance.

Here’s a speedy mother pushing a jogging stroller, both faces joyous.

Here’s noticing the new beauty in a loved one’s face you have stared at a million times before.

Here’s a friend’s smile and a dog’s tail wag.

Here’s the Ventura Pier, in its own way as majestic as the Eiffel Tower.

Here’s the Channel Islands, as beautiful as Yosemite’s Half Dome.

Here’s a boy tracking mud inside and a Zen-like mother wise enough to know she will too soon miss his messes.

Here’s wildflowers blossoming in springtime and stars doing likewise at nighttime.

Here’s a balletic surfer using the face of a wave as her canvas.

Here’s a painting, as imaginative and wonderful as anything by Picasso, held by magnets on a refrigerator door.

Here’s Two Trees standing sentinel in evening silhouette.

Here’s “young love” walking hand-in-hand along the beach – and old lovers doing so, too.

Here’s the arrival gate at the airport.

Here’s an inspiring sunrise and a clear sunset, and also here’s thunderclouds and a rainbow afterwards.

Here’s where memories grow.

Here’s a reminder to take time to look at the snow-capped mountains – and at all of the “roses” along life’s journey.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com

Check out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

• Personalized signed copies are available at WoodyWoodburn.com
• Unsigned paperbacks or Kindle ebook can be purchased here at Amazon