I hope you had a nice summer and didn’t ask for separate checks at a busy restaurant.
Which brings me to tipping. Which, it turns out, is not a subject for a column but a book. Or at least a three-part column.
There’s a whole iceberg under the subject of tipping. It’s cultural, it’s optional, it’s expected, it’s becoming obsolete and more widespread.
Widespread, as in the proliferation of tip jars. I’m waiting for one to show up at my doctor’s office. You sign in and there’ll be a jar with a little sign: Malpractice insurance is killing me, please help.
As you know, I’m an expert on back pain, foot cramps, and bidets, but tipping is some byzantine shite that no bidet can handle. It’s an art that needs to be a science.