Terrible Analogies

I’ve been to a few eateries in San Diego that aren’t quite fast food joints, but aren’t quite full fledged restaurants.  When you arrive you queue up in a line and order your food at a register, from which you’re given a number and you proceed to sit down at a table of your choosing where a server eventually delivers you your food on a plate along with silverware and napkins.

I’m not quite sure what proper tipping etiquette is for establishments such as these, but I tend to err on the side of caution and typically drop a couple of bucks on the table when I leave.  The way I figure it, some minimum wage employee is not only bringing your food out to you, but also cleaning up your dishes after you leave, and that deserves at least the smallest bit of recognition.

I don’t want you to think that I’m being guilted into leaving behind a tip.  I believe these types of establishments provide a somewhat niche service that allows for a more civil way to enjoy a meal that’s half a step above fast food.  It’s not first class, but it’s not coach either.

I try to pay attention to the people around me as they leave, and I notice that very few seem to leave behind any sort of a tip.  Now, I understand a waiter didn’t usher you in, describe in detail the chef’s special of the day, tuck a nappy into your shirt collar and coo over your wife’s appearance, but show some heart.  Some poor guy brings you your food and cleans up your mess after you leave.  In the end it’s only a buck or two.  Show them that you at least acknowledge their efforts.  ”But….they aren’t being forced to work there,” I can hear some of you say.  Yeah, I know, but think about this; how would you feel if the shoe was on the other hand and you were the one serving and cleaning up after total strangers all day long?  Wouldn’t finding a couple of bucks left behind for you every once in a while make you feel better about your current situation?

Ahhh…perhaps I’m just over thinking this whole thing.  If so, then so be it.  I’m no Mr. Pink.  I’ll continue to tip because I have a bit of empathy for my fellow human beings.

I had one day off from work this week, so everything that needed to be taken care of was squeezed into what felt like a truncated Sunday.  The wife and I built a giant shelving unit and a custom riser for it to sit on so we can squeegee underneath it when we hose out the garage.  Grocery shopping had to be done, as did a trip to Home Depot for various household hardware needs.  Managed to get in a nice hill run before dinner, then it was off to slap together this (admittedly bland) post.  After dinner we’ll hopefully work in a quick game of Memoir ’44 (review coming soon) before we settle on a movie for the night, then hit the hay.

*Whew!*  

Sure am glad I’m taking vacation next week.  We’ll be heading up to Sea Ranch.  Ya know, grab some down time to recharge the batteries.  Run a few trails and beaches.  Enjoy a beer while watching the sunset.  Break out the Nikon D200 and grab some nice shots.  Spend some quality time with Karin.  Who knows, maybe take a few happy pills?

Whelp, it’s back to the grind for me.  Have to go iron a shirt for tomorrow, press my slacks, and make sure the blackberry is charged (the battery indicator is blinking red.  Is that bad?).  *sigh*

Forgive me for this self-congratulatory post, but I wanted to share the fruits of our labor this weekend.  As promised in my Friday post, the wife and I spent some time on both Saturday and Sunday to seal the garage floor with epoxy.  This project was both easier and harder than I thought it would be, but was well worth the effort.  For your edification, here are a couple “before” pictures of our garage:

Ugly, I know.  It had to change.  There was no way I could continue to go through life knowing that our garage looked this pathetic.  

And so, after conversing with Karin about the sad state of our garage we jammed on down to the local Home Despot and picked up a couple cartons of Epoxy Shield.  Borrowing a power washer from my dad we got to work clearing out the few boxes sitting in one of the corners, hosed out the garage, then used the included cement cleaner from the kit and gave the entire floor a good scrub then a final rinse.  The entire process took just 90 minutes.  That was day one.  Easy peasy.

Day two, we taped out various parts of the wall and around the garage door hardware, then painted the side walls with hand brushes (which was the most difficult and time-consuming part of this job), eventually working our way to the floor and a hand roller attached to a broom handle.  This last piece was cake, and was actually quite enjoyable.  As I painted, Karin followed up with the decorative sprinkles.  This painting portion took just 2.5 hours to complete.  This is what our garage looks like now:

Ignore the tape along the bottom of the walls. As soon as the epoxy dries we'll remove it

The paint is still wet, casting bright reflections from the sun.

Oddly enough, as we were working on this project the neighbors kept coming by to see what was going on.  I have to admit, we now have the nicest looking (and cleanest!) garage in the neighborhood.  The next step: pick up a couple nice storage cabinets, placing them on a support system that will keep them 3-4 inches off of the ground to make cleaning of the garage easier.  Now, when we want to clean the garage, we can just hose it down and squeegee out the water.  Genius! 

Downside: we now have to wait two days before we can walk on it, and a week before we can park in our garage once again.  No biggie.  It’s a small price to pay for having a finished garage.

Somehow, through the course of normal conversation at work, it slipped out that I was training to run up Mt. Whitney in September.  Now, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be given the opportunity to do this because the results of the yearly lottery haven’t been announced yet, but I’m going to assume that I’ve secured a spot on the mountain this year.  Anyway, the admission that I was planning on running the tallest mountain in the continental United States drew a reaction of disbelief and mocking distain.  I was accosted with questions such as “Why would you do that?”, “You’re how old?”, and “When was the last time you trained at altitude?”.

It really gets me when somebody can’t quite figure out what drives a person to do something out of the ordinary, when they can’t be bothered to understand their motivation for doing such a thing, and instead of trying to connect on the most superficial of levels they turn their back and make snide comments.  It’s during moments like this, when people who you get along with in a professional sense suddenly turn on you like an abused animal, that I sometimes feel like an alien.

But hey, that’s okay.  The way I see it is that when people are shown their limitations they tend to disavow and cast aside such ideas as absurd and unthinkable.  It’s a defensive mechanism.

To let you in on a little secret, I’ve always been a fit individual.  I’m a life-long runner and a weight lifter.  I like to physically push myself, see how my body reacts, and to discover how much pain I can endure.  When I was a kid instead of toys I got running shoes and paid admittance to local 10K’s.  Instead of partying in high school I went out for track.  When I got my ass handed to me in a fight a few years ago I started lifting weights, knowing that next time I’ll be prepared to defend myself, and I wouldn’t hold back.  The last time a jerk called me out, he did so at a stop light.  Ya see, this particular idiot cut my wife off, then flipped us the bird and motioned with his hand, daring me to come get him.  When I got out of my car to oblige (under the objections of the wife) and crossed two lanes of traffic to find out what his problem was I could literally see his face turn white and the panic of prey set in his eyes.  Like a switch flipped on, I could see the instant this guy knew he was in over his head.  I have to admit, that’s a feeling no drug could recreate, knowing that I absolutely owned this guy.  That I had him trembling, praying to God that I wouldn’t knock his teeth out.  But, being the guy that I am, I simply had a few choice words for Mr. Tough Guy, embarrassing him in front of what I’m guessing was his kid.  I’m not a naturally violent person, but the fear in his eyes….man, that was an amazing rush.

Anyway, when people question in a derisive tone why I lift or run, I don’t take it personally, but I do purposely internalize their words and use them as fuel when I’m working out.  The way I see it, somebody has to tame the mountain and desert trails.  Might as well be me.