B wrote:This is totally rational, but I have nowhere else to post this.
I went to a gas station today. Ten or so pumps were all full and cars were lined up, so I got behind a pick-up truck. No one was at the pump, so I figured he was inside paying. I sat there for 10 minutes and no one came out of the store, and eventually a pump next to the truck opened up.
I backed up and drove around the pumps, so I could get to the open pump on the correct side. Somehow I made it without someone stealing the spot. I start pumping and look up, and that mother fucker in the truck was just sitting in his cab talking on his phone. When I finished pumping my gas, people were lining up again, and he was STILL sitting in his cab talking on the phone.
I never wanted to drag a person from their car and pummel them so badly in my life.
Lol @ "I sat there for 10 minutes"
Derrrrrrrr
Delete another
Entire el culo del Mundo why don't ya?
Vitalogist wrote:As a hotel manager, you can imagine the amount of beige I’ve seen in my career.
BurtReynolds wrote:Rando fast food joints have options to tip now and I hate it.
Yeah this is getting out of hand. I’m not tipping you if i ordered my burger at a counter
Thank you. There are places I've completely stopped patronizing due to the awkwardness of having to hit NO TIP right in front of the worker. I'm a regular takeout customer at a local pizza place, and I throw a buck or two in the cup because they're good kids, and it offsets the awkwardness of hitting NO TIP on the card reader.
We were on vacation last summer, and when purchasing tickets for the go karts, there was a tip prompt. Are you motherfucking kidding me?
Dev wrote:You're whole platform is about normalizing idiocy.
Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.
There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.
There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.
There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.
O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.
Last edited by tragabigzanda on Wed January 14, 2026 4:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.
There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.
There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.
There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.
O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.
Last edited by tragabigzanda on Wed January 14, 2026 4:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Yeah the tipping thing is way out of control. Even before this, I hated the concept of tipping. Never made sense. Why is it customary to tip a barista for pushing a few buttons and assembling some ingredients at most? But you don’t tip at McDonalds? Seems like they actually do more work than pouring a cup of brown water.
bodysnatcher wrote:Yeah the tipping thing is way out of control. Even before this, I hated the concept of tipping. Never made sense. Why is it customary to tip a barista for pushing a few buttons and assembling some ingredients at most? But you don’t tip at McDonalds? Seems like they actually do more work than pouring a cup of brown water.
I think it's weird that we tip bartenders much more than baristas, but baristas arguably do more work.
bodysnatcher wrote:Yeah the tipping thing is way out of control. Even before this, I hated the concept of tipping. Never made sense. Why is it customary to tip a barista for pushing a few buttons and assembling some ingredients at most? But you don’t tip at McDonalds? Seems like they actually do more work than pouring a cup of brown water.
I think it's weird that we tip bartenders much more than baristas, but baristas arguably do more work.
bodysnatcher wrote:Yeah the tipping thing is way out of control. Even before this, I hated the concept of tipping. Never made sense. Why is it customary to tip a barista for pushing a few buttons and assembling some ingredients at most? But you don’t tip at McDonalds? Seems like they actually do more work than pouring a cup of brown water.
I think it's weird that we tip bartenders much more than baristas, but baristas arguably do more work.
Much more expensive to live the bartender life. Barista just shows up in a tshirt or something, probably not even showered. A bartender needs: beard oil, a canvas apron, wool vest, tattoo artist on retainer, a monthly subscription for a Bespoke Post mystery box, etc
