Heather
LAMPE
tactics
r
My mother always told me that
God has given each person a special
gift. Some people were given
beautiful voices. Some people were
ability. Some people
were given
amazing minds,
capable of
innovation.
For years
I have searched
my special
gift. I believe
now that I may
have found it.
1 can’t
sing. I can’t dance. I couldn’t pole
vault if I tried, and my mind is only
moderately amazing. But there is one
thing I am inherently good at. I can
waste time. I am the most inefficient
person on earth. It’s my special gift.
Given any task, I will find
something to divert my attention and
my time. I don’t have to try. It’s my
talent.
I have a 15-page research paper
due at the end of the semester. Every
time I sit down to write it, my special
gift takes over. I know I should be
spell-checking and footnoting, but I
would rather sort the Fruit Loops by
color or teach my cat the Lambada.
It’s important that all pets know the
forbidden dance of love.
My inner voice tells me that there
is something attractive about bad
television when you have something
more important to do. Anytime I’m
having company over and I need to
clean the house, I can be guaranteed
that TBS will run the 63rd annual
Gilligan’s Island marathon. To scour
the toilet or to watch the Professor
and Mary Ann?
Telephone calls also make nice
diversions from any duty I may have.
If I’m in the middle of reading
“Merchant of Venice,” I would be
glad to discuss the positive aspects of
vinyl siding with a telemarketer.
“Hello, Miss Lampe, could I take
a few moments of your time to tell
you about Anderson’s vinyl siding? It
would be a great asset to your
home.”
“Well, I live in an apartment, but
siding might look lovely in my
bedroom. Go on, please. Take up as
much time as you’d like. And while
you’re at it, do you have any maga
zines or encyclopedias you can sell
me?”
What I find especially amazing
about people who excel at wasting
time is that we become quite irate
when other people waste our time.
We can spend hours avoiding laundry
by learning the art of making little
origami chickens. But if we have to
spend more than 20 minutes in a
dentist’s waiting room, we’re ready
to poke his eyes out with the water
pick.
“Excuse me, nurse, but I’ve been
waiting 30 minutes to see the doctor.
I do have better things to do, you
know. I hate to see all my time
wasted.”
“OK, dear, why don’t you just go
sit down over there. It’s obvious you
can’t keep yourself occupied by
reading, but there are some coloring
books on the table. Here are some
crayons, honey. Why don’t you go sit
down before I have to sedate you.”
To convince you of my special
gift, I’ve compiled a list of the time
I’ve wasted in the last week:
— Started to dust my living room,
but was diverted by my husband’s
December issue of Men VFithess on'
the coffee table. Spent 30 minutes
lusting at the half-dressed, sweaty
men on the weight machines, and 20
minutes trying to explain to my
husband why I was panting and
drooling on the furniture. Total dust
and drool time: 65 minutes.
— Started to study for my
economics test, but was diverted by
the Flashdance theme song on the
radio. Spent approximately four
minutes running in place, singing
“She’s a Maniac.” Spent another 20
minutes trying to explain to my
downstairs neighbor why her pictures
fell off her walls. Spent 30 minutes
cooling down on the couch from my
flash dancing. Total study and flash
dancing time: One hour and 54
minutes.
— Started to clean out my
refrigerator, but was diverted by the
food. Spent 20 minutes preparing a
hoagie sandwich. Spent 20 minutes
eating the hoagie sandwich. Spent
one hour napping after eating the
hoagie sandwich. Did not clean out
the refrigerator. Total cleaning and
eating time: One hour and 40
minutes.
My list is vast and I could go on
for days, but for God’s sake, I
wouldn’t want to waste your time.
Lampe is a senior news-editorial
and English major and & Daily •
Nebraskan columnist. - !
66
If I’m in the middle of reading ‘Merchant
of Venice,’I would be glad to
discuss the positive aspects of vinyl siding
with a telemarketer”
Brent
POPE
Here’s a tip: Do
I was in a restaurant the other day
when I overheard a college-age
couple arguing about how much of a
tip they should leave for the waiter.
The lady said, “He did a good job.
At least leave
him a couple
dollars.”
The guy
replied, “I don’t
care if he tap
danced to the
‘Green Acres’
theme song while
hand-squeezing
me fresh papaya
juice with one hand and magically
sawing the perky hostess in half with
the other, I ain’t leaving him squat!”
Then they continued to argue for
several minutes, eventually sinking to
the level of hurling “Your mama’s so
fat...” insults at each other.
I’m not sure if they ended up
leaving a tip or not, but it got me
thinking: There’s no one in our
generation who gives advice on
' tipping etiquette. Miss Manners isn’t
a voice that the post-World War n
crowd listens to, and besides, she’s
more Of a guide for the rich and
famous, not the typical college
student.
And that’s not to say that all DN
readers are penniless paupers like
myself, I just can’t imagine that too
many of you out there pick up the
paper and declare, “Tally ho! This
Pope fellow is smashing to read
while I eat my crumpets and ready
myself for a brisk game of croquet!”
In any case, I guess it’s up to me
to spread the word on what is and is
not acceptable in the world of
gratuities, especially in restaurants. *
So, li’l buckaroos, here are The
Pope’s Rules For Restaurant Tipping:
JU You should generally leave a .tip
of 15 percent when you are at a
restaurant that has waitresses and
waiters. (It is oily acceptable to
withhold some or all of the tip in
extreme situations. For example: If
your server sneezes in your food and
then says, “I was just adding a little
spice to your meal, deal with it.”
jL r
Then it would be OK to not leave a
tip. But anything less extreme is no v
excuse.)
2. Don’t use the old “they already
get paid” excuse, either. People Who
work as servers in restaurants usually
get lower wages than the stress of
their job merits, because they assume
they will receive tips on top of their
hourly pay. (Don’t piss in their com
flakes!)
3. Leave a tip even if your server
isn’t quite a Fortitude of Friendli
ness, especially if it’s late at night.
You can’t expect them to flash you a
toothy Cheshire Cat grin after eight
straight hours of hearing customers,
splurge out phrases like “How much
is your $3.99 special?” and “Where
are my cockadoodee flapjacks?”
4. Don’t leave your waitress
hanging because you claim to be
“broker than a me’fo’!” That’s a
really lame excuse. Eating at a
restaurant costs at least two to three
times as much as making food at
home. If you have the money to eat
out, you have the money to leave a
tip, Ebenezer. (Is it too early to bust
out the Scrooge jokes?)
5. If at all possible, try to leave
dollar bills instead of change. My
Aunt Varicose, who used to be a
waitress, says that there’s nothing
worse than working a double-shift at
the Dead Skunk Diner aid having to
lug some 30-odd pounds of change
around in your pockets. People used
td hear her coming, think she was
ringing the Salvation Army bells, and
give her more change.
These rules should pretty much
cover you in any restaurant tipping
situation that you might find yourself
in. And if you should happen to
forget those guidelines, just remem
ber this saying that my Uncle
Ruddabaga recites every time we go
to a restaurant: “They might drop
your omelet on the floor, but who
cares as long as they pick it back up
and put free extra cheese on the dirty
part.” (Hell, that’s good advice
anytime.) v
Pope is a senior broadcasting major
and a Daily Nebraskan columnist
«
I don’t care if he tap danced to the
‘Green Acres’ theme song while
hand-squeezing me fresh papaya juice
with one hand and magically sawing
the perky hostess in half with the other,
I ain’t leaving him squat!”