I have been super uninspired lately. I have also had an aversion to turning on my computer during non-working hours lately. So en lieu of current affairs I bring you:


“Best Tip Ever”

About a year ago my wife and I were eating at this Hawaiian restaurant and on the particular night we were there there was live entertainment. Essentially there was this old, burnt-out guy with a guitar, a drum machine and a tiny voice. He was playing all sorts of obscure Hawaiian songs. His show was particularly hilarious because the little performing man could not have been happier despite the fact that he was playing to only three people (only two of which were vaguely listening).

At one point I actually recognize a song he was playing, The Hawaiian Wedding Song. I once heard Elvis sing this song as only Elvis would dare sing it. When the song completes the little man says he played that song particularly for my wife and I in the hopes that we might one day get married. I thank the man, but explain to him that we are already married. He just giggled like a little girl. This leads to a whole conversation about Hawaiian music. I had just received a ukulele as a gift for a project I had worked and was learning to play it so I was asking him where he found his giant book of Hawaiian songs. Anyway, Little Man then asks me if there is particular song I would like to hear. I request “Sweet Leialani.” As the title implies, this song is totally sweet.

He starts grooving to the song and it occurs to me to give the dude a tip. I whip out some cash and deftly put the bills in the cup next to Little Man, like I am Captain Suave. I turn back to my wife and she has a “what are you doing?” look on her face. The single guy at the other table who was not even paying before is now staring at me, coincidentally with a “what the hell are you doing?” look on his face. The music peeters out even though the song is not over, so I turn back around to look at Little Man to see why is he shivving my song? I was not so suave. As Little Man was fishing soggy cash out of his fresh coffee, he looked at me with a kinder “that’s okay, I know you meant well” look. Then I get that horrible flush of cold sweats and nausea when I see the unbelievably blatant “TIPS” jar right next to the nice man. There are few times more upsetting in one’s life than the sudden realization that you are a total tool.

To make ammends I ran over to Starbucks and bought him a new cup of coffee. (If ever you have a coffee emergency just start running in any direction from where you are. A Starbucks will appear within 3 minutes, no matter what. I this case I was extra lucky; for Starbucks was not only the next store over from the restaurant, but a second Starbucks was also located in the supermarket in the same shopping area.)

Honestly, how do you not notice you are putting money into liquid?

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