Arg!

So, yeah, I'm skipping out on work to write this. Man, if only I got paid to blog, you'd get a lot more posts like last nights.
So, I'm sitting here, reading the campus newspaper (which has always totally sucked) and find myself reading a story headlined "When gas prices go up, drivers pay." Now, not only does that seem like the most common sense headline in the existence of ink, but it's misleading, too. I figured, "Oh, it's about how gas prices are affecting poor, already undernourished college students." No, errrrr. Wrong. It's about how delivery drivers are having to pay more for gas, making some want out of the driving business. The article (which easily could have fit "deliverers" in instead of "drivers") outlines that many are having to use a larger chunk of their tip money to pay for gas. Um, so? Isn't that the point of tipping in the first place, to pay for the gas these kids are out? I'm not giving the guy an extra buck or two because he smiled when he handed me my pizza; I know that the managers don't pay them any extra for gas and I feel like they saved me a trip and some money, so I hand them over a rough approximation of what that might cost. I mean, it's not like a restaurant, where the waiter or tress constantly checks on you, refills your drink, and brings you a nice, cheap mint at the end. If the delivery guy came back every fifteen minutes, asked if the pizza or Chinese food tasted good, gave me a refill on my Coke, and then handed me some peppermint candies, I'd consider giving him a bigger chunk. Instead, all the delivery guy did was drive until he found my place (and sometimes flubs that bit up) and then dropped off my food. So, I give him a bit of gas money. I figure that if his car gets 15 miles to the gallon, he drops off five orders that each give him a buck, that's roughly 30 miles worth of gas he's got in tips. In olden days where gas was nice and cheap, that might have translated into 45 to 60 miles, which is a lot more than he drove before. "Well," you might say, "he's having to pay for insurance and a car payment." And the people stuck making the pizza aren't? Come on. The delivery guy is making a decent wage in the first place, at least the minimum, probably more. On of the examples in this article was that a guy who worked at a place making sandwiches would also fill in when they needed a delivery made and the main driver was out. So this guy would jump in his car, drop it off, and get a tip, something he didn't get while in the restaurant. Now, he needs to put that tip in his tank, which is where it belongs in the first place. That's what I gave it to him for. What reason is he thinking I gave it to him? It ain't because he's pretty, that's for sure. Bottom line: that tip is for gas, nothing more, nothing less. If it has to go in your tank, well duh. If you're blessed and don't have to put it in your tank, think of it as profit. Just don't complain when you're having to use that money for its intended purpose.
Alright, SotP from last time was the wonderfully psychedelic "Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)" from a band called First Edition, with lead singer Kenny Rogers. Yep, that Kenny Rogers. The "Know when to hold 'em, / know when to fold 'em" chicken man himself. I think that's one of the great appeals of the song to me: Kenny Rogers, the country music icon, is singing a song that sounds like it was written by Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix during one very "good" weekend. Seriously, just read the lyrics on the internet sometime and try to imagine good ole Kenny singing it. Or you can just pop in a copy of The Big Lebowski and watch the scene where The Dude is having a crazy vision about being small and rolled over by a bowling ball (a great scene that should have you asking "How did they film that part inside the ball?" but almost no one ever does) because Dropped In is on the soundtrack at that point. As for meaning...well, I've never done acid, so I can't even come close to interpreting that mess. Let's just say that it inspires some great imagery.

Song of the Post: "Move me on to any black square, / use me any time you want. / Just remember that the goal / is for us to capture all we want."