Bauble In The Sun

My Dear Princess & Dear Fellows,

Despite the season, it felt like a lovely summery day here in Wellington today. There was a slight freshness in the air, but otherwise I would say it was warmer than most Scottish Springs. And it's probably a bit dangerous because when it's like this you feel able to wander about without a hat. 

But I'm told that the sun still has strength in it, even when it is not hot. I'm going to have to be careful or I might end up all shrivelled, wrinkly and brown, like a German bollock*.

Speaking of Germans, I was greeted by German Barista today. She has replaced Montreal, who went home to Canada. Before she left, Montreal told me that, "Germans are nearly as good as Canadians."

Montreal was right; German Barista is always lovely and friendly, but I don't tip her. You don't tip in Wishbone. There's actually nowhere to tip even if you wanted to. I mentioned this to German Barista.

"Oooph, we have no tip jar," she replied. "I think it may be against company policy."

I told her that I thought that was rubbish. I also told her I got told off in Germany for attempting a 20% tip. As you may remember Fat Pete, you told me any more than 5% was considered to be "showing off".

But there's no danger of that here. Kiwis are generally speaking not big tippers. And by "big" I mean, "at all". I'm not saying they are mean. It is just not a big part of the culture and people do not expect it. They are like, "Are you SURE?!?" when you try to tip people. So now I feel a bit self-conscious and hardly ever do it.

It's a shame, because I like rewarding good service. 

"You can tip me 20% if you like," German Barista offered helpfully. 

I may have to write another letter to Wishbone Customer Service about their lack of a tip jar. I'm going to be the most popular customer in that store soon, and will get free coffees every time I go in.

It's worth thinking about.

S.

* I hate to break it to you, my German pals, but we in the rest of the world are under the distinct impression that you are all naturists. All of you. Nudists. Hopping around in the nip, throwing beach-balls, and crouching down to pick up a frisbee, every chance you get. Hence my colourful allusion to the anatomy of the German male.