The Postman Only Rings Once (when he wants his Xmas tip)

This week I received an unmarked envelope in my mailbox. A few years ago I would have promptly brought it to the authorities, fearing a dirty bomb or sack of anthrax. But, since we have a 24-hour news cycle, I didn't even think of such horrible possibilities.

I knew what was in that envelope - my yearly holiday card from my postman! I opened the card to find that there was no personal message, and that he had stamped his name.


Guess what? No tip for him.

First of all, I've seen my mail delivered, it is done so by one of the female variety. And unless Mr. Postman has been using last year's tips to get that transgender surgery he's always wanted, I don't think he deserves a cent.

Second, the quality of my mail service hovers somewhere below unacceptable. I often get other people's mail. Former tenant mail (I've lived here for almost 3 years now!) And when the building gets a coupon blast, I don't even get the Subway coupons intended for me.

Add to that the impersonal card. He might have as well slapped me in the face with a wreath. He doesn't want me to be cheered! He wants a tip! And I hate that - giving something when something is expected in return. If this was a genuine moment, it might work. But a stamped card? No sir. I don't like it.

So judging from that, I'm supposed to tip my postman? I don't think so. My grandfather always said "do more than what is expected of you." It's a credo of over-delivery. It's taking all the hours to SIGN YOUR NAME in a Christmas card for crying out loud. And even that should just be expected.

No, I won't be tipping Mr. John Capuano. Maybe it'll teach him a lesson.

Or maybe I'll give him a tip - I'll sign his heartless card with a "Hey, Jacko. Do more than what is expected of you - tips are earned, not expected. PS: See how I handwrote this? You should try it some time."