I spent some time on Friday surfing my company’s Internet connection to learn about tipping.

I would point out, to my co-workers and higher-ups who read this site, that this is the very, very first time I have ever surfed the web on company time.  Furthermore, not only do I never, ever do this in the normal course of a work day, but our company has the absolute lowest number of employees, on a percentage basis, who surf the web on company time.  This is because I hold a sermon every alternate Tuesday in the break room entitled “Why You Should Not Surf the Web on Company Time.” Co-workers, and especially higher-ups, you are invited to attend this sermon the next time I give it.  I believe you will be impressed with my fire and passion.

So anyway, I was trying to learn about tipping because I was having some furniture delivered to my place this weekend and I wondered if I should tip the guys.  But the Internet wasn’t any help. The problem is, tipping sites are highly conservative. They always suggest tipping more than you actually should, apparently because the authors are worried about offending someone. They say things like:

“Always tip people who pass you on the street without punching you.”

“Tip your food servers 30% after tax, and offer to give them a bite of your dessert.”

“Tip your bartenders one half the cost of your drink and clean the bar counter with your tongue.”

I had decided to tip the furniture guys regardless, but as the time drew near, I started getting all Steve Buscemi.  I realized that I had actually paid a delivery charge for the furniture, so what was up with splashing out more money?  Even though that was a contract between myself and a major corporation and didn’t extend to the proletariat, so what?  When you don’t tip pizza guys, the next time you order from that place your large pepperoni comes complete with a severed hand.  But you’re not likely to have to deal with the same furniture guys twice.

But then the guys came and I watched them and I realized something: they were carrying very large objects up two flights of stairs and doing it in record time.  Suddenly my building felt very insecure.  Two locked doors and an elevator code didn’t mean jack to guys who could juggle the contents of a living room without working up a sweat.

I tipped them with the warmth and gladness of a Julie Andrews song.