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Brain Farts was a weekly humor column that ran in the Louisville Eccentric Observer from mid-2000 until the summer of 2002. It was, well, eccentric. And occasionally satirical. And sardonic. Some liked it, some hated it; some just didn't get it, and that's OK. There were times when I didn't get it either. I've compiled here some of the archives from Brain Farts for the enjoyment of friends, family and anyone else who happens by. I also have written some new Brain Farts, and added some links and other trivialities that you shouldn't be too concerned with.

Unless you're as bored as I am.

When I was a teen-ager, I worked at a Ponderosa steakhouse. I started out as a dishwasher, later became a busboy, and eventually began waiting tables.

I hated it. Way too many people are rude, condescending, self-righteous ass-warts, especially when dealing with servers. Luckily for me, I was a terrible server and ended up being shifted to fry cook, where I got daily second-degree burns from constantly working with hot pans and deep fryers, and I ended up smelling like B-grade meat and fried shrimp every night. It was heaven by comparison, though, and I was able to lick the french fries of the ass-warts I previously had served as a waiter.

Based on my experience, however, I understand the practice of tipping servers. Waiters and waitresses typically work for very small wages (like $2.12 per hour or something ridiculous like that) and must depend on tips to survive. Theoretically, the better they do their jobs, the more money they make.

But I do, however, have a problem with the guideline/rule/whatever that we all must tip 20 percent, regardless. To me, tipping is an incentive program. If a sales team doesn’t meet its sales goal, it doesn’t get its quarterly bonus. If an NFL running back doesn’t hit 1,000 yards, he doesn’t get his incentive package payout.

And if I see you lick my french fries, by god, I’m not tipping you 20 percent.

Seriously, now, I have had some really rude servers in the past. I can completely understand if a server is working a large dining room alone because a co-worker called in sick or an idiot supervisor mismanaged the schedule; I can’t in good conscience penalize them for that. If they’re trying and they’re friendly, I can be patient.

But if they are rude or snotty or even just lazy, I reserve the right to not tip 20 percent. Now, only under extreme circumstances would I completely stiff someone. I’m not sure I’ve ever done that. But if I see my meal sitting under a heat lamp while my server is talking to a co-worker for 15 minutes about her date last night, yes I will serve up a measley 10 percent tip and not feel a bit guilty about it.

And what is it with tipping barbers? One of my co-workers said his girlfriend recently came home from an appointment with her hair stylist and matter-of-factly told my co-worker that she spent nearly 40 bucks: “Thirty dollars for the hair cut and style, and an eight dollar tip.” EIGHT dollars? EIGHT dollars? EIGHT dollars? For what? That’s more than a 25 percent tip, for poop’s sake, and all the stylist did was what she was SUPPOSED to do: cut the girl’s hair and not screw it up.

I have the worst possible hair ever, so I pay a local barber seven bucks to buzz me down with some clippers. Seven dollars. And I tip him a buck. I even tip the guy who wipes off my seat at baseball games. And cab drivers. And concierges. And valet parking attendants. And the beer guys at the ballpark. And strippers. But why? Who decided this? Why should people be rewarded simply for doing what they are already being paid to do?

In a CNN.com story from 2001, a Cornell researcher stated that societies with the highest percentages of extroverts and neurotics (yes, America leads the way in both categories) do the most tipping. “Extroverts are outgoing, dominating, social people – and tipping is an incentive for the server to pay you attention,” the researcher said. “Neurotics are prone to guilt and generalized anxiety – maybe they tip more because of guilt over status differences between themselves and the server.” 

(My guess is I’d fall into the neurotic camp. But that’s just a guess.)

I have to tell you, though, there are times when I just get pissed off about tipping. As in: If I pay $3 for a bartender to pull the cap off a beer bottle and hand it to me, why in the holy hell should I tip $1? That’s a 33 percent tip for basically doing something I would gladly do myself all damn day at a dollar a pop. I can open beers like a madman; I’d make a goddamn fortune. A server in a restaurant, on the other hand, takes your order, refills your drinks, tends to any problems you might encounter (i.e., not enough MSG in the General Tso’s chicken, or too many maggots in the spaghetti), and then brings you the bill at the end of the meal. And puts up with your bullshit if you're a typical ass-wart. Now that’s work, people.

So why in hell should I tip a bartender so well for popping a top? Sure, the chic magazines, in their social etiquette columns, will tell you it’s to ensure that you can always get the bartender’s attention and get a drink quickly. That pisses me off. If I get to the bar first, I shouldn’t have to tip outrageous amounts to get a freaking three-dollar beer. Maybe the bartender-tipping thing is to ensure that raging alcoholics are always the first to get a drink; if you’re willing to pay out that much money to be sure you always get your Jack and Coke before anyone else, be my guest. I’ll wait.

Meantime, if you want to tip me for the enormously valuable insight I’ve imparted in this Brain Fart, feel free to send said tip to my Paypal account. Which begs the question ... what’s 20 percent of nothing?

E-mail the writer at kgramone@aol.com.