Is it Appropriate to Leave a Nickel Tip?

            On Sunday morning my internet connection from the café across the street was fine until it got crowded out by the paying customers. I had no choice then but to go downstairs to the donut shop and buy a coffee so I could find out their password. A small coffee was only $1.50 and the password was just the name of the place plus the numbers “123”. I doubted if they would change it anytime soon, since it would be a hassle to have to tell people the new one all the time. I wanted to leave a tip at the counter but couldn’t afford more than a nickel and didn’t want to be seen giving only a nickel and if they’d turned away I would have dropped five cents in the cup so they’d hear the sound behind them of me tipping them but they were just standing there looking at me so I didn’t give them anything. I sat down with my laptop and logged on to make sure the password worked and it did. I didn’t stay very long. I figured that on the chance that they did see me leaving shortly after arriving it might seem to them that I’d come in to use the internet to quickly look something up or send a quick email or something. So I went back upstairs and I was back online.

            The landlord was in the building with a young guy who was fixing the back door. A few months ago, after years of rot the old frame finally said goodbye to its hinges and told them they were on their own. They took the door with them, so since May we’ve had no back door at all. There were a few chilly days back then when it would have been nice to be able to shut the door, but most of the time it was okay. So the guy put in a new frame, turned the door around and put some new hinges on the other side so that the door opened to the left instead of the right.

            I had just a little more than enough left over after the donut shop coffee to buy a can of Creemore and so I did.

            It was a very hot day and quite a contrast to the few days before. I heard an abnormal amount of sirens throughout the day and I wondered if the emergencies were mostly people fainting from the heat.

            I took a bike ride in the late afternoon and the heat at first was stifling.

            There was a jazz band playing at Yonge and Bloor, complete with a horn section.

            When I got past Coxwell on the Danforth I decided to stop at McDonalds to use the washroom. There was no toilet paper so I went to the counter and told the young order taker. He seemed confused about what to do. He asked a couple of people and I guess finally the manager said she was going to reload the dispenser. I stood there for five minutes until I asked again. I was told she was doing it but when I went back to the washroom it was occupied, so I just left. I rode to Woodbine and went into the Firkin where a very friendly young hostess greeted me with a smile at the door, told me where the washroom was and smiled again when I left, telling me to have a great day.

            I rode to St Clair and Victoria Park and then headed south. I turned right on Meighan and then followed it, exploring the side streets to Dawes Rd along the way. I would have doubled back to finish all the streets south of St Clair and west of Victoria Park but I felt like McDonalds had eaten up too much of my time. I took Victoria Park to Danforth and headed west.

            Riding through Little Italy my chain suddenly jammed in low gear, so I had to stop and get my hands very greasy and black as I repositioned it.

            Ahead of me were two women whom I’d thought were a couple. The woman ahead was very tall and fairly fast on her bike and the woman behind her was short and stocky, with purple hair. I could have passed them both if not for car traffic on the left. Finally the tall woman crossed the street and the other woman stayed, so it turned out that they weren’t a couple, but the way the other woman watched her as she went in another direction I got the impression that she would like them to be.

            When I finally got the opportunity to pass the purple haired woman I went out to her left, but she started veering in that direction too and so I called out, “Passing!” She responded, “Well, hurry up!” and let out a laugh but it didn’t seem like a good-natured one. Considering how she’d been holding me back for the last several blocks I don’t think me hurrying up should have been an issue for her.

            I finally finished writing my review of Shab-e She’r that night.