by TEJ | Jul 25, 2024 | Lifestyles humor
A widower friend of mine recently decided to jump back into the dating pool. He wanted to spruce up his Match.com profile in hopes of receiving a better response from women. He made one small mistake: He came to me for help.
Recently, a longtime widower friend of mine concluded he’d been alone and lonely for too long. He decided to take the plunge and get back into the dating pool. He created his Match.com profile, with several photos and posted them. Alas, he’s not been thrilled with the response he’s received thus far.
He told me he’d seen far too many similar, lame profiles posted by other men seeking female companionship who annoyingly employ the same hackneyed profile lines, like “I enjoy yoga, Pilates, hiking, walks along the beach, a playful French wine, the feel of the salt air in my hair, or whatever else it is you chicks are looking for these days.”
He knew that as a humor writer, I have a certain way with words. So, perhaps against his better judgment, he asked if I could assist him. Being notoriously generous by nature, I told him I’d be happy to help him out. He thought that I might be able to come up with a few attention-grabbing starter lines to make his profile stand out from the crowd.
My friend went on to explain that Match.com offers starter phrases for you to fill out to paint an appealing picture of you for prospective matches. Below, before the ellipsis dots (…) are actual starter phrases provided by Match.com. My friend (for the moment at least) shared these with me, and I took it from there. After the ellipsis dots are the responses I’ve come up with so far:
I spend my free time…. searching for a cure for cancer. I’m THIS CLOSE. Soon the Nobel Prize will be mine. All mine!
I would never ever… join Al-Qaeda or ISIS. I hope I don’t have to explain why. If you ask me, the reasons should be obvious.
My happy place… is my 7,000 sq. ft. mansion on the shore of Italy’s Lake Como – just as soon as I can convince George Clooney to sell it to me in a swap for my 850 sq. ft. mobile home.
Things I’m thankful for…. include the fact that, to the best of my knowledge, I’m not on ANY major airline’s No Fly List. (I don’t consider Spirit Airlines a major airline.)
The most influential person in my life… is probably my parole officer. He holds my freedom’s fate in the palm of his hand.
A dream I would like to come true… would be to win People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. Heck, I’d be honored just to make it to one of the top five finalists.
If I am in a bad mood… I know it will usually quickly pass – unless you stole my chocolate chip ice cream, in which case, you are dead to me.
The one thing that always cheers me up… is seeing high school classmates who thought they were better than me get convicted and sent off to prison.
If I need advice, I’m calling… the Psychic Hotline. They have never steered me wrong – if you don’t count that one time they advised me to put all my retirement savings into Blockbuster Video. That one stung, I’m not going to lie.
Something that always makes me laugh… is when a rambunctious cat bats a priceless vase off a table, and it crashes into a thousand pieces – especially if the vase belonged to someone I don’t particularly care for, like my one of my four ex-wives.
An odd habit of mine… is that I sometimes have this uncontrollable urge to press all the buttons for every floor just as I’m exiting the elevator – but I only do that when I’m off my meds.
Five years from now… if everything goes as planned, and I get that raise I’m overdue for at McDonald‘s, I will be just six years from paying off the last of my graduate school student loans.
A perfect day for me… starts and ends with a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream while falling asleep on the recliner after having watched the film Caddyshack for the 125th time. (That movie never gets old to me.)
I should do this more often… I’d have to go with remembering to brake for pedestrians in crosswalks. Come to think of it, I probably shouldn’t be driving so much anymore, now that my driver’s license has been revoked – for almost running over pedestrians in crosswalks.
My most unforgettable travel story… was when, as a young child, Somali terrorists kidnapped me while on a family vacation and I was taken to their hideout deep in the Ugandan jungle. My parents debated for two weeks whether to pay the $500 ransom. Now, that was a CA-RAZY vacation!
I spend much of my free time… trying to beat my record time at Rubik’s Cube. My personal best: 5 days, 4 hours, 11 minutes.
I would really like to meet in person… Homer Simpson because everybody keeps telling me he reminds them of me. Or maybe Jesus. But I doubt I’ll ever meet Jesus in my lifetime – unless I can work out the kinks in the time machine I’ve been building in my basement since 2nd grade.
The first thing people often notice about me… is that I’m not wearing pants. Don’t worry. I almost always wear them on the first date – and always at work – unless I’m working from home, which is most of the time now… ever since my employer insisted I stop coming into the office… because I forgot to wear pants.
Well, what do you think? I believe there’s a good chance, thanks to my creative suggestions, that my friend is going to receive more responses than he ever imagined from scores of women. Of course, it’s possible some of those responses might be along the lines of, “Whoever you are, NEVER EVER contact me again.” Or maybe, just maybe, he’ll find the love of his life. The way I see it, it could go either way.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
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by TEJ | Jun 22, 2024 | Business humor, Lifestyles humor
Hey, friends. Tim Jones here. You may know me as a humor writer. But now that I’ve mastered that field (unless you ask my children), I’ve decided to embark on a new creative journey – life as an artist. I have a good feeling about this (even if my wife does not).
I love my wife, Michele. She’s a very smart, incredibly talented artist. Even her name sounds like an artist: Michele Rushworth. We can be competitive in some ways, but the truth is, our talents tend to lie in totally different arenas. For example, she can make incredibly tasty, nutritious meals, and I …. cannot. On the other hand, there’s not a sport you can name at which my wife can defeat me. That’s because she has about as much interest in learning how to play, say, pickleball, as our cat Zippy has in learning about the intricacies of cryptocurrency.
But there’s one area where, if I’m being honest, I must grudgingly admit my wife has the edge – anything to do with art. She went to art school. I, on the other hand, graduated from a liberal arts program with a degree in Communications – which, upon my graduation, opened up a universe of exciting possible entry level job opportunities – mainly in the food services industry.
For the past 25+ years, Michele has painted incredible, lifelike portraits of judges, university presidents, orchestra conductors, military generals, philanthropists, and snotty rich children posed next to their prissy Irish Wolfhound named Prince Tuckahoe.
If you’re curious about how talented a portrait artist my wife is, check out some of her portraits here. (And no, those aren’t photographs. Those are oil paintings.) But her real passion is painting landscapes of lakes, coastal areas, flowers, mountains, and birds – in other words, chick stuff. See what I mean here. I’m not one to toot my own horn, but I recently found out that I am the co-owner of the largest private collection of original Michele Rushworth artwork in the world.
Watching Michele create her masterpieces has inspired me to explore my own latent artistic potential. I retired a couple years ago from a career in sales and marketing, so I have more time on my hands lately. I believe there’s room for more than one artist in this house. So, I put down my writing pen, picked up the paintbrush, and am now well on my way to challenging my wife for household artistic supremacy.
I’ve only been at it a couple months – three, if you count my color-by-numbers coloring books initiation. I recently completed a painting of a horse prancing around in a field with a red barn in the background. When I showed it to a complete stranger for their reaction, they had no idea what it was, thinking that it might be an octopus or perhaps a school bus or maybe a mutant platypus, with a red barn in the background. On a positive note, I appear to have totally mastered how to paint a red barn.
Lately I’ve seen a marked improvement in my technique. Within less than three months, I had already progressed from finger painting to drawing with crayons, then colored pencils, and now I’m using actual paintbrushes – just like da Vinci used to paint the Mona Lisa. Check out the side-by-side comparison of da Vinci’s masterpiece vs. my own below. In case you’re uncertain, mine is the painting on the right.
Left: The Mona Lisa, by Leonardo da Vinci. Right: My own interpretation of this subject. I felt she needed a party hat and a bowl of popcorn, to make her feel happier. Okay, so I took some artistic license. Still, I think I nailed it.
Oh sure, my technique is a bit primitive, but I’m still in the early stages of my artistic renaissance. Eventually, I anticipate it will be difficult to tell the difference between an original Rushworth painting and an original Jones – assuming you’re drunk, can’t find your glasses, or are a dog.
But I have one thing going for me that my wife doesn’t have. I obtained a graduate degree in marketing, not to mention having spent over a decade in advertising. So, I know a thing or two about how to promote my work and generate some buzz. I just came up with this brilliant promotion: With your first purchase of an original Jones artwork, I’ll give you a punch card. Buy ten Jones originals, get all ten circles on your card punched, and voilà, your eleventh painting is half price. That’s called marketing, buddy.
I thought briefly about trying to create a media stir like the famous graffiti street artist known as Banksy does. He’s built almost a cult following by creating bold, sometimes controversial, works of street art in secrecy without asking permission. I tried doing this last week, painting over several area stop signs with the edgy word “GO” where the word “STOP” used to appear. It was done extremely tastefully. Alas, I was unable to explain to the arresting officer that this was just artistic expression, protected by our Constitution.
One idea I had was to offer a free lifetime subscription to my View from the Bleachers column, to any customer who purchased one of my original paintings. But one kind person suggested that instead, perhaps the incentive should be that the purchaser could request to be permanently UNSUBSCRIBED from my column. If it will help sell my work, I’m open to that suggestion.
My wife’s landscape paintings typically sell for thousands of dollars. I might have to start out a little lower initially until I build up a following. I showed a buddy of mine some of my most recent paintings. He suggested I start at Five dollars – or Best Offer. Hmm. This could be a tougher nut to crack than I thought.
Left: My wife’s oil painting of lily pads. Right: My own interpretation of the same subject matter. At first blush, it’s easy to mistake my wife’s artwork as superior. But notice how she totally left out the frog in her image – a glaring oversight, if you ask me.
I have no idea whether my artistic gifts will ever rival those of my artist wife. But one thing’s for sure – she will never match my prices. I accept cash, check, Venmo, and Dairy Queen gift cards.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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by TEJ | May 4, 2024 | Lifestyles humor
BREAKING NEWS: THE END IS NEAR – at least that’s what people in Seattle feared upon a recent sighting of a terrifying giant yellow fireball in the sky. Residents were urged to stay inside.
Anchor: Hello. I’m Brad Anchorton with this Seattle area Action News BREAKING NEWS ALERT. As I speak, there is a truly extraordinary event that is sending shockwaves through our cloudy city. Brace yourselves, for today, a rare and perplexing sighting has occurred in the skies above us.
[Cut to footage of the Seattle skyline with ominous music]
Anchor: I’m referring to the appearance of a luminous, radiant, and suspiciously bright yellow celestial object. This object – known to some by its three-letter moniker, the “sun” – has made a daring cameo over our perpetually overcast cityscape. While it may currently be a balmy 64 degrees outside in downtown Seattle, scientists estimate that the sun’s surface is blisteringly hot at 10,340 degrees Fahrenheit. And that devastating heat appears to be heading our way. Our afternoon temperatures could soar to as high as 69 degrees, but experts have no idea how much hotter it could get by tomorrow.
[Cut back to the anchor, who looks like he’s just seen a ghost]
Anchor: Now, for those of you unfamiliar with this phenomenon, let me assure you, it’s a sight only a few Seattleites have ever seen. You would have to go all the way back to the infamous Sun-Aggedon Summer Scare of August 1973 for the last time the sky lit up this brightly during the day. Reports have been flooding in from all corners of Seattle, with citizens expressing a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and in some cases, downright terror.
[Cut to footage of a man on the street, nervously glancing up at the sky]
Man on the Street: I – I don’t know what’s happening, man. One minute, I’m sipping my artisanal coffee outside of a Starbucks under a blanket of gray clouds, and the next, BAM! It’s like the apocalypse. It is so blinding, What the hell is that up there? A giant alien spaceship? I wish I had something I could put over my eyes that would darken things but still let me see stuff.
Anchor: You mean sunglasses?
Artist’s depiction of a Seattle resident being shocked at the sight of a giant yellow ball in the sky. It turns out what he saw was just the sun, making a rare appearance in the Puget Sound region. It is not predicted to appear again until sometime in mid-2029.
Man on the Street: I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s a sunglass? Will it protect me from the aliens?
[Cut back to the anchor, who is shaking his head solemnly]
Anchor: The sudden appearance of this bright yellow orb has left many Seattleites scrambling for cover, unsure of what to do in response to the unprecedented surge of cosmic radiation. For more on what the risks are – and what we can do to protect ourselves, I turn to University of Washington astrophysicist, Nigel Van Twerp.
Dr. Van Twerp, can you shed some light on what exactly are we dealing with here, and what are our chances of survival in the face of this overwhelmingly luminous threat? And is that giant yellow orb an alien spaceship?
[Cut to Dr. Van Twerp, standing in front of a whiteboard covered in complex equations]
Dr. Van Twerp: Thank you, Brad. No, it is highly unlikely that it’s an alien spaceship. More likely, what we have here is probably a rare celestial phenomenon involving the sun. The sun is so massive, it’s over 110 times the diameter of the earth. Believe it or not, about 1.3 MILLION planet Earths could actually fit inside of the sun.
Anchor: Are you suggesting there might be several hundred thousand planet Earths currently inside of the sun? How did they get there, Doctor? And is there life on any of them?
Dr. Van Twerp: No, at last count, there is only one Earth that I am aware of. The earth revolves around the sun once every 365 days. The sun is a rather fascinating celestial body, viewable from many regions of our planet almost every day. But due to Seattle’s unique meteorological conditions and nearly perennial cloud cover, we never see it. But I must warn you, prolonged exposure to this intense luminosity could potentially cause sunburn… and a strong desire to move to Miami.
Anchor: Sunburn? That sounds terrifying. The sun is so huge! Is it likely to swallow up the earth?
Dr. Van Twerp: Sadly, the earth – and everyone on it – is inevitably doomed to perish. According to my calculations, all life on earth will die a painful death as our planet is ultimately absorbed after the sun becomes a red giant and expands beyond our current orbital circumference.
Anchor: So how much time do we have left, Doctor Van Twerp?
Dr. Van Twerp: [Looks at his watch.] Hard to say really. I’d estimate around 7.5 billion years, give or take. In the near term, I’d be more worried about sunburn.
[Cut back to the anchor, who looks utterly horrified]
Anchor: Wow. Thanks for the warning, Doctor. One last question: Since most of our viewers have never seen this bright yellow ball in the sky before, is it safe for them to look directly at it?
Dr. Van Twerp: Good question, Brad. While some former presidents have been known to stare directly into the sun, I would caution against it. You see, the sun’s rays can burn cells in the retina at the back of the eye. The retina doesn’t have pain receptors, so there’s no way to feel the damage, which would be permanent. So, don’t stare at the sun like an idiot.
Nigel Van Twerp, noted University of Washington astrophysicist explaining how, in scientific terms, we’re all screwed. No matter what we do to try to prevent the sun’s encroachment, eventually, he explains, we’re all going to die – in less than 8 billion years.
Anchor: Sound advice as always, Dr. Van Twerp. We at Action News want to advise all our viewers to avoid looking directly at the sun or even being exposed to it. Make sure your family takes cover immediately. Do not go outdoors unless you absolutely must – say, to rescue a pet who has escaped outside and is staring upwards. But if you must leave your homes, be sure to apply sunscreen. We recommend SPF 100 just to be safe.
[Cut to footage of people frantically applying sunscreen and seeking refuge under any available shade]
Dr. Van Twerp: Um, it’s really not that dangerous outside. No need to panic. Just wear sun –
Anchor: [Cuts off Dr. Van Twerp] As panic spreads throughout the city, government officials are urging all citizens to take every precaution necessary to protect themselves from the sinister rays of this celestial interloper. No one is safe, especially our fair-skinned viewers with freckles. A special word of prayer for our pale Irish Americans out there.
You may be asking yourselves, “How long will we have to endure the terror of this sunny weather?” According to our meteorologist, Windy Storm, the good news is that the clouds and rain should return by tomorrow and we’ll have another long stretch of rain ahead for the foreseeable future, with life returning to normal – unless the aliens in the giant yellow orb attack.
This is Brad Anchorton reminding you to stay safe, stay vigilant, and above all, stay indoors. Good luck, Seattle.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
Subscribe to my View from the Bleachers YouTube Channel and request notifications to see my latest videos. And check out my latest book, THE SECRET TO SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS (is Something I Have Never Figured Out. I’m Open to Suggestions)
by TEJ | Apr 26, 2024 | Lifestyles humor
[Author’s note: I was recently asked to give a talk at my 50th high school class reunion. I attended an all-boys’ military school called the Albany Academy from first grade through 12th. The Reunion event organizers who asked me to give a speech failed to provide any guidelines or constraints about topics. So, if you ask me, anything I said in my speech that turned out to be upsetting or embarrassing, well, that’s on them. Below are excerpts from my actual class reunion remarks to my fellow classmates from my high school Class of 1973. – Tim Jones]
I was recently invited to give a prepared speech at my 50th high school class reunion. I graduated 1973 class valedictorian (honest). Needless to say, since I went on to pursue a career as a humor writer, many of my classmates pulled their grandkids aside and used my career choices as a cautionary tale. Happy to help those kids learn from my mistakes.
Hello. I’m Tim Jones. It is great to see so many of my former classmates from the class of 1973, some of whom still vaguely recall who I am. Over the next couple of days, I look forward to reconnecting with many of you, to learn in great detail how you became so much more successful in your career than I did.
I’ve never been one to toot my own horn, but in our senior year, my classmates voted me “Person Most Likely to Disappoint his Father.” Given that I’ve been a humor writer for the past 15 years, I feel I truly nailed this award. So, thanks to all of you who voted for me back then. For what it’s worth, I voted for Hirschberg. Heck, he’s currently in prison for embezzlement, so I kind of feel he deserves this award more than me.
I want to acknowledge a few individuals. First, I want to congratulate my classmate Drew Rider on being inducted into the school’s Athletic Hall of Fame. Well deserved, Drew. But to be perfectly honest, many people have said that the ONLY reason I was not inducted last night right alongside you was due to my overwhelming lack of athletic talent, speed, stamina, and strength. But I disagree. If you ask me, I was blocked due to my bad penmanship.
I want to acknowledge my friend Ned Reinhardt. Ned initiated a series of periodic zoom calls when the Pandemic happened. It was his idea to try to bring our class together to share stories about our lives. Fun fact: Throughout all those many Zoom calls, Ned never once wore pants. Maybe it’s a German thing, I honestly don’t know.
That’s me on the right, along with a classmate on the left in a scene from our high school play, Inherit the Wind, a courtroom drama. One of us went on to a distinguished acting career. The other one wrote this caption you’re currently reading. I’ll let you guess which one was me.
I guess I should also congratulate my classmate Brad Williams, who unlike me, got accepted into Princeton. I only made the Waiting List. Way to go, Brad. Thanks for taking my spot at Princeton, you son of a bitch.
Then there’s Blake Pickett. Not exactly what you’d call a jock back in high school, if we’re going to be honest here. But a few years ago, in his sixties, this guy actually rode his bicycle from his home outside of Washington, DC all the way across the country, eventually showing up at my doorstep near Seattle. Over 3,000 miles! Very impressive, Blake. Although I heard a rumor he rode Amtrak from St. Louis to Boise, Idaho. Probably not true.
As for me, I had a wonderful experience at the Academy. I served a 12-year sentence – which is almost six years longer than the sentence Hirschberg is currently serving. I mean, I attended the school for 12 years. The Academy, with its strong emphasis on a military education, taught me many useful life skills, like how to disassemble an M-1 Rifle. I can’t count the number of times I’ve made use of that unusual knowledge over the years. No wait, um, actually I can. Never. Not once.
I guess my proudest accomplishment while at the Academy was being selected class valedictorian. I like to think it was because of my impressive GPA… and not at all because I had threatened to release a batch of seriously incriminating photos of members of the Board of Trustees if I was not chosen.
Most past valedictorians of our prestigious institution went on to distinguished careers such as heads of companies or university professors. Some even went on to impressive careers as philanthropists. And I….. um, well, I followed a different path. You see, I eventually became a humor writer.
My 12 years at what was then an all-boys’ school taught me the importance of self-discipline, perseverance, and leadership, not to mention how to behave extremely awkwardly around girls because I was never around any of them. After I graduated, I went onto the University of Virginia – mainly because someone took my spot at Princeton. But I’m not mentioning any names. I went on to get a law degree. But I never did practice law – which is a shame, actually, because the legal profession uses lots of Latin legal phrases – many of which I already knew because my high school Latin Teacher pressured me into taking THREE YEARS OF LATIN at the Academy. Here’s the sum total of what I remember from three years of Latin: Carpe Diem. Yeah, that was worth it. Sigh.
Many previous class valedictorians from my prestigious private college-prep school went on to pursue distinguished careers as diplomats and doctors. By contrast, I went on to produce humor videos dressed up as a cat. My father would have been so proud.
After law school, I smartly decided to pursue a career in sales management in an up-and-coming industry with a bright future – daily newspapers. I later joined a series of dotcom internet startups, most of which eventually went belly up. Finally, at age 54, I decided to leave the corporate rat race and become a humor writer. I’ve done well over my career. Not to brag, but according to my math, I’m almost certain I am one of the 50 wealthiest members of our entire… 42-person class.
Unless you’re measuring success by net worth. In that case, I did much worse.
But I have had a wonderful life. No complaints. My wife of 37 years is from Canada. We adopted two beautiful baby girls from China. Our daughters are both grown up now. And this may surprise you, but to this very day … they’re both still embarrassed to be seen with me in public. And when they learned that their dad was Valedictorian, they both agreed … there must have been some irregularities in the vote count for valedictorian that year. Yeah, they’re probably right.
But, deep down, I believe with all my heart that, if my father were still alive today to see how I turned out after the Academy, he’d probably put his arm around me, and with tears in his eyes, say, ”My dear son. I paid for 12 years of your private school education at the Academy… And you became a HUMOR WRITER? … Hell, for God’s sake, son! Even your class’s laziest slacker, Benny O’Donnell, became a doctor!”
Thank you very much.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
Subscribe to my new View from the Bleachers YouTube Channel and request notifications to see my latest videos. And check out my new book, THE SECRET TO SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS (is Something I Have Never Figured Out. I’ Open to Suggestions).
by TEJ | Mar 29, 2024 | Lifestyles humor, Pop culture humor
I’m a big believer in tipping generously for quality service. I never would have been able to afford college were it not for the tips I earned waiting tables to pay for school. But lately, it seems tipping for services is getting out of hand.
The tradition of tipping service providers has been around for at least four centuries. Evidence suggests it first began in Europe during the 17th century, when aristocrats would give people in lower classes extra money for their services. In the United States, the practice of leaving tips began shortly after the Civil War, often in the form of added remuneration paid to freed slaves working in difficult conditions.
It is speculated the word “TIP” may come from the phrase “To Insure Promptness” – and not, as I had long theorized, “Totally Inexcusable Piracy.”
Okay, enough with the history lesson. While I appreciate the noble origins of this practice, it’s starting to feel like it’s getting out of hand. Is it just me or does it seem like everybody is expecting to receive a tip these days? I have no problem tipping waiters, taxi drivers, and the occasional bellman who errantly brings my luggage to the wrong hotel room.
I routinely give my stylist at the hair salon a 20% tip – which is generous, given how little hair I have left anymore. I’m a believer in the importance of tipping, especially for low-wage earners. I waited tables for three years during college. Without tips, I never would have been able to pay for my education and would probably have dropped out to become a Walmart greeter.
Tipping is as American as apple pie … and as confusing as calculus. When I was young, 10% was a normal tip. At some point, this changed to 15%. But lately, it seems servers get offended if you leave anything less than 20%. Some restaurants even tack on an automatic 20% tip surcharge. What are the rules for when you should tip, and how much? I have no clue anymore.
Not long ago, I was at a restaurant. When the server brought the credit card machine to the table, the readout gave me three options for the tip: 20%, 25%, and OTHER. I wonder what would have happened had I selected OTHER and entered 15%. I’m guessing my receipt printout might have read, “Wow, you are one cheap bastard!”
How long will it be before you’ll be expected to tip your local fireman for putting out your house fire? It looks like he did a crappy job. I wouldn’t give him more than a 10% tip, personally.
Last week I went to a fast food restaurant. I ordered my meal and paid for it at one of those new self-service kiosks. When I pressed the button to pay by credit card, it prompted me for how much of a tip I’d like to include. How about NONE? Yeah, that seems like the right amount for my having to punch in my own order on a computer touch screen, then wait 12 minutes at the counter for my order to arrive.
Recently, I’ve been invited to provide a gratuity for things I was never expected to tip for in the past. In the last month, I’ve been prompted to cough up a $weetener at a fast food drive-thru window, a shop that changes my car’s oil, the airport check-in counter, and even my physical therapist’s office.
There’s even a name for this phenomenon: Tipflation. There’s also another word for it: Tip shaming (okay, technically two words). I’m starting to feel like I’m hemorrhaging cash faster than a broken ATM. In many cases, I’m not even dealing with a human being at all, leaving me to wonder who is really on the receiving end of my generosity.
Is there anything we’re not expected to tip for anymore? I half expect to find a tip jar on my dentist’s reception desk the next time I go in for my semi-annual cleaning: “Don’t forget to tip your dental hygienist for a great job.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for showing gratitude for good service, but where do we draw the line? I’m pretty sure it’s just a matter of time before I buy a pair of sneakers on Amazon.com, and as I check out, it will suggest I enter a gratuity of 20% to 30%. I’m sure Jeff Bezos could use the extra money.
On a future vacation, at the end of my flight, in order to be allowed to exit the plane, will l be required to insert my credit card next to the screen in the seatback in front of me, to indicate the gratuity percentage I’d like to use to thank the pilot and crew for getting me safely to my destination?
The future is looking increasingly unsettling. I can picture a time not too far from now when I may receive an email from our veterinarian reminding me of our cat Zippy’s upcoming appointment. And the email explains that it’s customary to include a 20% tip to ensure proper medical care. So, if I opt not to pay a 20% tip, might Zippy have “an unfortunate accident?” I can barely afford my own healthcare, let alone tipping my cat’s vet.
Every day it seems more and more people are expecting to be tipped, just for doing their job. What’s next? Paying your heart surgeon a tip for a successful double bypass? Hope you got an extended warranty.
You may accuse me of being hyperbolic. Perhaps. But it’s only going to get worse. I’m waiting for the day when we’ll all be expected to tip the greeter at Costco for letting us enter the store. Or the electric utility if we’d like them to restore our power sooner rather than later. Or our cat sitter for taking care of our cats while we’re away. (No, wait. I actually do tip her for that. She does a great job.)
My point is, I think we’re rapidly approaching the point when we’ll be expected to tip for just about everything – even when there’s no human being involved in the transaction at all.
On a completely unrelated note, if you’ve enjoyed reading this article, please show your appreciation by leaving me a small tip. The recommended gratuity is $50, but if you’re on a limited budget, I guess $25 will do. I also accept Venmo. Please give generously, won’t you? It’s hard to pay for my upcoming European vacation on a humor writer’s salary. Just saying.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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by TEJ | Jan 27, 2024 | Fun and Leisure Humor, Lifestyles humor
As I get older, I realize that I don’t need a lot of “stuff” anymore. I want to slow down and enjoy the simple pleasures of life – like lying on the bow of this powerboat … off the coast of Barbados. I’d even settle for the coast of Nantucket. I’m not picky.
As I look back on my youth, I realize that I’ve matured. I’m no longer that zealously ambitious young man who craved fortune and “the good life.” If I’m being totally honest, I was overly pre-occupied with acquiring “stuff.” I wanted a nice car; a house I could be proud of. I now laugh with embarrassment thinking about this younger version of me, who wanted to “have it all.”
Now that I’m older and wiser, I appreciate that what’s important in life is not simply acquiring material possessions. My, how shallow that sounds to me now.
As I’ve aged, my values and priorities have evolved. What truly matters in the autumn of my life is the joy of developing meaningful, lasting friendships. I want to meet friends I can talk to openly and be vulnerable with, sharing my deepest, most personal hopes and fears. A sensitive, honest person who will be there for me in good times and bad. And last but not least, someone who – how can I put this politely – owns a nice boat.
Young people often talk about having “friends with benefits.” But they have it all wrong. It’s much better to have friends with boats. Now that I’m retired, it really doesn’t matter to me in the least how much stuff I possess – just so long as I have a few close friends… with fast-moving watercraft. If they had a 30-foot sailboat, I would certainly consider becoming their casual acquaintance. But I’m really looking more for a friend with a powerboat with at least 350 horsepower. I really don’t care if it’s Bayliner, a Sea Ray, or a Chris-Craft, just as long as it can reach a top-end speed of 70 mph or faster.
Recently, I met an amiable fellow. We started to hit it off. And from what I could tell, he seemed to share my political beliefs. Sadly, he only owned a dinghy, which he mainly used for crabbing. It could barely reach speeds of 10 mph. Needless to say, that’s not what I’m looking for in a friendship these days. So, I had no choice but to ghost him.
Why this obsession with friends with boats? I live on an island. My wife and I moved here to be near the water. You may be asking yourself, “Hey, if it’s so important, why don’t you buy YOUR OWN boat, Tim?” What a stupid question. Have you seen the cost of high-quality boats lately? Not to mention the cost of mooring, insuring, and refueling them.
I’m looking to make a few new guy friends. All I care about is that they’re a good person, willing to be vulnerable and open, and own a sweet-looking ride like this guy has. Woah! Is that Mont-Saint-Michel ahead? Dude, will you be my friend?
I’ve done some research and discovered that boat owners have no lives. That’s because they spend all their free time working on their boats. Here’s just a sampling of the typical tasks they do after every time they take their boat for a spin:
Top off the oil, if needed; wash the hull and deck; check the engine, battery, propeller, electrical lines, and bilge pump to ensure all components are working properly. Oh, and don’t forget to inspect the engine mount screw clamps to make sure they’re secure. While you’re at it, you might want to take a look at the water intake to be sure it’s not blocked. And be sure to flush the engine and propellers to eliminate saltwater, sand, dirt and other debris. I’ll skip the other 27 steps you need to do EVERY TIME you take your boat out, because I almost fell asleep after that last sentence.
So, no, boat ownership is not for me. Let some other sap pay $100,000 for a 40-foot cruiser. I just want to spend some quality time bonding with them… on their 40-foot cruiser – ideally while eating fresh lobster and chowing down on a tasty cheese platter and Godiva chocolates. (Not the dark chocolate, please.)
Perhaps you are that sap, I mean, fine person. If so, I want you to know that if you feel a need to drone on endlessly about how hard it is staying on top of all the regular maintenance needed to keep your boat in working order, as your new best friend, I’m willing to listen. Oh, and I’m a size LARGE, in case you need to know my lifejacket size for when you take me out water skiing.
I’m looking for a new friend. I’m not picky. I mean, it’s not like the only kind of people I seek out as friends are rich people with yachts that comfortably seat eight. Who do you think I am, anyway? No, I’m willing to keep an open mind. I’d even consider starting a friendship with someone who only owns a Jet Ski – but only if you have two of them. I’m not riding tandem behind you. Buddy, you need to give me some space.
I thought I could be friends with this guy. But I was wrong. He’s a very nice person And very smart. Just one problem. He owns a gorgeous 60-ft. sailboat. I was looking for a friend with a powerboat. Sorry, buddy. It just was never going to work out.
I’m still looking for that close friend. I know they’re out there. Perhaps you could be that special person. If you think you might like to become my friend, just email me a photo of you with your boat – or a photo of just your boat is sufficient, actually.
But perhaps I’m being a little unreasonable. After all, why should I care whether a person has a boat or not? I mean, that sounds rather superficial, doesn’t it? Okay, on further reflection, I don’t care whether or not you have a nice boat. I’m more than willing to make friends with non-boat owners – assuming they have their own private plane, that is.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
Subscribe to my View from the Bleachers YouTube Channel and request notifications to see my latest videos. And check out my latest book, THE SECRET TO SUCCESS AND HAPPINESS (is Something I Have Never Figured Out. I’m Open to Suggestions).
