Getting Taller

As some comedian once said, the principle behind Daylight Savings Time is the same as the belief that you can get taller by cutting off your head and then standing on it.

[pause to let that visual dissipate]

Let me tell you why I hate this bloody nonsense with a passion.

  1. We have, in our little abode, well over a dozen clocks which do not self-adjust like laptops or smartphones do (I like and collect clocks).  This means that twice a year I have to prowl around the house like a hyena seeking a dead zebra, rooting out clocks and changing the damn hour hand or else pushing buttons on electric alarm clocks etc.  “Pain in the ass” barely begins to cover it.  And somehow, I always manage to miss one, which causes me aggravation later (could be a week later) when I discover the omission.
  2. Because we are an international family, with friends and family scattered all over the globe, I have had to resort to stern measures to keep up with this situation, ergo a wall decoration in the living room:

I think you can see the problem, can’t you?  The U.S. and the U.K. change their times on different dates, South Africa only uses one time (gawd knows how much they’d fuck up changing clocks and times… they operate on “African time” as it is), and as for Australia it’s even worse:  some states observe DST while others choose not to.

As I am a man of advanced age, little brain and severe deficiency in patience, I think you’ll get where I’m going with this.

I’m always reminded of the classic exchange from Cheech & Chong:

“Hey, hippie… wanna buy a watch?”
“Uuuhhhhh… no, man;  I’m not into time.”

Wish I could be that way.

Restraint

If some mook showed up at my house wearing a “FLORIDUH!” t-shirt and threatened to kill me, saying, “I gorra knife!” and my security detail didn’t shoot the asshole in the face, I’d be interviewing their replacements as we speak.  Sadly, the White House security detail seems to be operating under De Blasio Rules of Engagement (“Love him, kiss him, ask him to tell you about his mother” ), and so this choirboy is still alive, even though he threatened to perform a little home-made impeachment on God-Emperor Trump.

And speaking of De Blasio City, the NYPD somehow didn’t put fifty bullets into the bastard who decided to do a little impromptu RIF on two of their cops, but arrested him instead (only after he ran out of ammo).  Which means that he’ll be released back into the population in time to have a cup of tea wif his Momma (pursuant to current NYFC legislation).

By now, both these tools (Floriduh Man and Homeboy) should be being referred to as “the late” or “the deceased”;  instead, they’re going to be coddled and become heroes of The Left and all New York criminals [some overlap], respectively.

We’re getting too soft.

Day For Night

Oh FFS, here we go again:

Bosses at Warner Bros. are allegedly considering taking on a female actress to play the role of the iconic chocolatier, after two previous adaptations starred Johnny Depp and Gene Wilder.

Is any male role safe anymore?  Dr. Who, James Bond’s “M”, Ghostbusters and countless other male roles have recently grown tits and vaginas — I mean, Jane  Bond was even considered a while ago.  (“I’d like a strawberry vodkapop… stirred, not shaken.”)

I really want some brave producer (I know, I know) to propose a movie project entitled “John Of Arc” :  the story of a humble French shepherd boy who gets a message from God, becomes a fearless military leader and rallies an army to defeat an English occupation force.  Then he’s captured and burned at the stake.

Nah, that’s just too far-fetched.  Might as well just cast a chick for the role, to get the green light.  Of course, the movie will bomb spectacularly and lose money — but who cares, as long as Teh Womynz get the gig?

Fucking bullshit.

Blacktops

Anyone who’s ever worked in the restaurant business will know exactly what the title of this post means.

Basically, it’s a denigrating [sic]  term that waiters (of all races, by the way) use as shorthand to describe a table of Black customers.  What “blacktop” means is that the servers are highly unlikely to get a tip from that seating.

Black people don’t tip.  (As always, that may not be 100% accurate but, as the bookies say, it’s the way to bet.)

Insty brings it home with this post, and I, as a two-year veteran of Ubering with well over two thousand trips driven, can attest to his friend’s conclusion.  (And bear in mind that about 80% of my annual business comes exclusively from taking executives to the two Dallas-area airports, which means that mostly, the tips are going to be part of the expense account.)

As a one-time statistician, I unconsciously collect data from my own experiences, and I’m going to present Kim’s Hierarchy Of Tipping (in an Uber context) and digging into my experience, here are the percentages of people who tip, by category.

  • White men:  70% — close to 90% of my tip revenue comes from White men, of all socio-economic classes
  • Chinese / Japanese men:  50% — but it’s a tiny number, so the actual revenue is insignificant
  • White women:  25% — and their tips are much smaller than the mens’, and younger women hardly tip at all
  • Indian men:  5% — and that only from the few Indian guys I pick up on a regular basis
  • Older Black men:   5% — if they’re executives, otherwise 0%
  • Younger Black men:  0% — unless  they’re in food service i.e. waiters (see below), in which case it’s about 2%
  • Indian / Black / Chinese women:  0% — I think one  Indian woman once gave me a $2 tip (on a $40 fare).
  • Young White guys, mostly waiters, cooks and bartenders:  close to 100%;  why?  because they understand the value of tipping.  When a young guy tips me $3 on a $4 fare, I know what that represents, and it has nothing to do with percentages.

Here’s the thing:  tipping your service provider isn’t just about the money, although that is important.  What tipping does show that you the customer value  what I as your service provider has given you, and it gives me an incentive to keep providing a good service.

I’ll spell it out from my own perspective.  I get up at about 3.15am and log in to Uber at about 3.45am, working until about 9am.  I provide a courteous, smooth, knowledgeable and (sometimes) entertaining trip, every time.  There’s free water on offer, a phone charger if needed, and I even load and unload my customers’ suitcases.  If a customer has forgotten something like a phone or passport, I stop the clock and turn the car around to fetch it.  I monitor the traffic reports so I can take a different route to avoid congestion.  I keep my car spotless (inside — on DFW roads, I’d have to wash the outside twice a day to keep it as clean).  And on that topic:  it’s not some cab company’s heap that I’m inviting you into, it’s my own personal car.

If I published the compliments that a few (maybe 80 or so) customers have left on my profile over the past two years, you’d think I’d made them all up.  (“Best Uber ride ever!”  and “Great conversation!” are the most common.)  I don’t provide good service;  I provide fantastic  service.

Yet very few people tip.  My tip percentage of total net income is 4.74% (and that is a hard number, because it’s Tax Time).  About a third of what a waiter makes.

And I have to tell you all that if one day I decide to chuck it all in, it’s because excluding White men, people in general are ungrateful assholes.

Shuddup, You Little Prick

From perpetual pain-in-the-ass Has-Been Mayor of NYFC Bloomberg:

Yes, [California has] problems, including homelessness, struggling public schools and scarce, costly housing. But California “is something the rest of the country looks up to,” Bloomberg said. “California has been a leader in an awful lot of things.”

The only things looking up to California are the flies circling the turds lying in the streets. All the rest of us (sentient human beings, that is) think California is a Grade-A shithole.

And if I can use Hizzoner’s own words, just modified a little:

“California has been a leader in a lot of awful things.”

…which is more truthful than what he said.