Cartoonapalooza #11: Rat-hattan, Snowflakes who Vote, and...Don't Forget to Tip Your Cartoonist! (Now, typo free!)
Random stuff that makes me laugh. You too, maybe? WRITTEN and ILLUSTRATED BY PETER MOORE
AS I WRITE THIS, heavy wet snowflakes are cascading down from a murky winter sky, here in Colorado. Who doesn’t need a laugh, on a day like this one?
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Simply point your phone at the watchamacallit, select an amount, and buy me a “coffee.” Actually I might spend it on sidewalk salt, but you get the picture. Thank you!
“Before screens, tipping, like a marriage proposal, was a private affair. Tips can reveal hidden values or the rumblings of the subconscious. A waitress’s breast size, for instance, correlates positively with tip size. “Mad Men”-era husbands tipped more when dining with someone else’s wife than with their own. The grief-inflected gratitude of the post-pandemic period introduced new tipping behaviors. Etiquette experts studied the so-called guilt-tip boom. The gratuity, like everything else, has gone contactless—the swivelling of the iPad. In the past three years, according to data from the payroll company Gusto, tips in bakeries and cafés are up forty-one per cent. Apparently, we now tip assistant sports coaches (up three hundred and sixty-seven per cent) and theatre-box-office staff (up a hundred and sixty-one per cent). Do you tip the cashier when all she’s done is ring up your salad? Don’t, and you’re a cheapskate. Do, and you’re a sucker. Where before you scribbled a tip in the candlelit darkness of a restaurant, now you do it in the spotlight glow of the screen. The polite thing to do, standing in line, is to behave as you would at the A.T.M., or the urinal: look away.”
—Has Gratuity Culture Reached a Tipping Point?, by Zach Helfand, from The New Yorker
If you’re enjoying what I do here, please share it with a friend. If you don’t enjoy it, please share it with an enemy.
Touch any of the buttons below, and you’ll place a thumbprint on my heart. Just don’t press too hard, or the cops may become involved.
That perked up the dreary day into night! Love the squirrel dances!