TIPS

There are so many things in this world that never get noticed. And I don’t mean people. I don’t mean those quiet, weird people that sniff or cough a lot and never wash their hands. I mean the books in high school libraries; I mean the stained white tee shirt in the lost and found. Things. Things no one wants or cares for or even acknowledges. I was at a coffee shop, drinking coffee - which was pissing me off in the first place, because it was just another reminder of the lack of originality in this world – when I noticed a tip jar. The loneliest thing in the whole place. Lonelier than the old man in the corner on his lap top, with no ring on his finger, and no hair on his head. Probably lonelier than me, even, which was saying a lot. Someone had taped an index card to the glass jar and written in a bold black marker, probably Sharpie, TIPS. At first, I thought, maybe, it was a donation jar for some kind of organization. Maybe… Totalitarianism in Perfect Synchronization? Or The Irate Persons of Syphilis? Or Typical Interest in Pirating your Salary? The last one seemed more likely. I’ve always been wary of giving my money away to organizations because I saw this documentary once about a Satanist cult that posed as an organization for sick puppies or kids or something. Not that it matters that it was a Satanist cult; it’s just the fact that you never know where your money is going. Your five dollars could have been intended for a dying cocker spaniel and instead it’s funding the construction of an Anton LaVey memorial.


And I must have sat there for three cups of coffee – because eventually everyone will tell time by how much they’ve consumed –before I realized it was a tip jar. I was an idiot for not realizing TIPS was literal, not some secret organization pining for my cash, but merely working individuals of the establishment pining for my cash. Which wasn’t any less worse, really.