Category: Alleged Journalism, General Nonsense || By

Now that the holidays are finally over (well, not if you're Russian Orthodox) I feel free to vent about something that bugs me.

What's the deal with holiday tipping?

Every December, newspapers run stories (usually syndicated features) [1, 2] advising how much you should offer as a "Christmas tip" for people like the letter carrier, trash hauler, bus driver, newspaper carrier, etc.

Look, I happen to think I'm pretty good tipper to waitresses, bartenders and people like my barber. (Believe me, that last guy has to work for his $8. Cutting my hair is like trying to arrange the weeds in a sidewalk.)

But I draw the line at tipping the mailman, for cripes' sake. God bless him, because he's got a difficult, tiring job that also carries some risk of injury. But it's also job for which he's well-paid, and there's no particular artistry or skill required to stick letters in a box.

Ditto for the guys who pick up my garbage. I'm grateful for them, but they always throw the cans in my neighbor's yard, and sometimes they leave the lids in the street. (Last winter, the borough's snowplow ran them over and flattened them.) I'm supposed to tip for that?

I might be willing to tip my newspaper carrier if he or she was a student. My newspaper is delivered by a guy who flings them out the car window.

If I'm going to tip them, why don't I tip Equitable Gas? I use their service every day. "Hey, here's $10, thanks for not blowing my house up." Or I could drive around until I see the sewerage department's truck and hand them $20: "I know you guys take a lot of crap. Get it? Ha ha ha!"

Nope. It may mark me as an insensitive clod, but I ain't tippin' the garbageman.

. . .

I Wish I Wrote This, Part 1: "So please, please, please, all you sports teams out there, stop with the throwback uniforms. I live in Pittsburgh, OK? Everyday in Pittsburgh is throwback day. If there's one thing we don't need, it's more throwback." --- Anthony, from Tunesmith & Anthony

. . .

I Wish I Wrote This, Part 2:: James Lileks on attending the funeral of a relative he'd never met. Starts a little slow and meanders a bit, but I felt like I needed a stiff drink (or a good cry) at the end.

. . .

Great Moments in Journalism: For heartless, penny-pinching, humorlessness, and needlessly-cruel personnel practices that would shame the Russian Army, it's hard to beat management at a newspaper or radio station.

I wrote last month about the Cincinnati Post. The last edition came out Monday.

So what were Scripps-Howard's instructions to the staff for the last day?

• Don't bring any alcohol. (Yes, we're kicking you out the door, but don't bring a bottle of wine or champagne to ease the pain.)



• We're not forwarding your email.



• Don't bother coming in after Monday, because we're throwing your personal effects in the dumpster.



• We're not allowing other reporters in the building (you know, because you might say bad things about the place to which you devoted five or 10 or 20 years of your life).



• And finally: You can take home a maximum of six extra copies of the newspaper (costing Scripps-Howard a whopping three bucks)

At one newspaper where I worked, we used to joke that personnel memos should end with the phrase, "and the beatings will continue until the morale improves." But Scripps has really outdone itself.

Scripps' motto is "Give light, and the people will find their own way." They even used to have a giant lighthouse on top of the Pittsburgh Press Building.

I have a better logo for them. It's a fist extending one finger. Guess which one.