The Story of Blue Crystal Seven
My Country’s Glorious Dead
So, my thing about tipping goes back a long way. Some of the first tips I ever got were when I was a newspaper boy and after a long, hard year of giving up precious after-school video game and comic book time, Christmas came and it was time to tip the paperboy. I got a pile of money, mostly in $5 bills and it all seemed to make the sacrifices worth it. I took the money the newspaper company saved for me and blew most of it at a local roller rink on pop, chips and video games for me and for a guy who wasn't a friend for very much longer (when the money ran out). I gave the paper route to my brother who had even less interest in walking for miles each day for the hope of a couple of bucks per house every two weeks, and I let the newspaper people deal with it. The next time I got tips was when I worked as a pizza delivery person. It was killer. My boss paid me the princely sum of $5.50 an hour and each time I took out a pizza, I got a great tip. No tip, no gas money. No tip, no lunch out the next day. In a way the job was a circle of slavery to me. I worked so hard to save and save then learned all I could about cars and went out and bought an old junker. I loved every minute of driving it but everything from gas to insurance was so expensive. So I got a job delivering pizza but the problem was I drove so much that I got sick of driving, it wore me out. And the extra money always seemed to find some place to go.