Canada Metrics

 

"50 gets you 30, 80 gets you 50, 100 gets you 60, and 120 gets you a $100 fine. »

I have been giving myself a refresher on the metric system, in preparation for our trip to Victoria, B.C., this weekend. My husband doesn’t need a refresher, since he lives and breathes metrics. At night, he counts sheep in intervals of 10.

I just know that kilometers are shorter and easier to divide. But I still need a math refresher to convert distances: a kilometer is 6/10 of a mile. Since it’s easier to count in kilometers, we make the transition effortlessly.

I have given up, however, on trying to convert Fahrenheit to Celsius. Whatever calculation I use is either off, somewhat, or simply more trouble than it’s worth. I just rely on what temperatures in Celsius are supposed to feel like: 24-26 is warm and comfortable; 29 with humidity is not.

 

Cheapskate!

How I overlooked the "tips" jar at my local deli is beyond me. Last week, I noticed the jar for the first time, duct taped to the counter near the cash register. As I stood in line waiting to pay for my soup and ½ sandwich, the customer next in line ceremoniously chucked loose change into the ceramic jar, and the musical "cling" of coins made my ears perk up. "I’m just giving all my money away today," she broadcasted magnanimously while showering more nickels into the jar, "and who more deserving than you being such a darling cashier?"

I paid for my lunch and disregarded the tips jar. But that had more to do with my frustration with tipping in general than with my satisfaction with service. Tips are supposed to be discretionary but they are often presented like service charges I have to pay regardless of the quality of service. We’re expected to leave a tip even if the experience was horrible; the food bad; and the décor abysmal, as long as the negatives were not the fault of the server.

Yet rarely do we tip based on service quality. We calculate the gratuity based on how much we spent for dinner and round up for efficiency. How much more skill and effort does it take for the server to bring out a $20 wild salmon dish versus a farmed salmon menu item for half the price, or or to serve a $3 glass of ice tea versus a $20 glass of wine? The tips, however, would be significantly different for similar service. If we feel like eating an expensive steak one night, we could end up leaving a generous tip for possibly mediocre service, or vice versa on a night when a really good waiter serves you grilled cheese.

This is, in part, suposed to encourage the waiters to upsell. But that shouldn’t be my problem. It annoys me when a waiter keeps proposing items to fluff up the bill and am unlikely to be influenced by her suggestions.

But having issues with the merits of tipping doesn’t make us bad tippers. I have joked with David about leaving a 2% tip to offset a pricey entrée, but in general, we leave the tip that’s expected. If we have a bone fide complaint, we’ll bring it up before the bill arrives.

To be sure, tipping gives me less of a headache than it used to some 10 years ago, when I often ate out with large groups of friends and struggled to split complicated bills and the tip among 10 people. There was always some cheapskate who expected the group to subsidize his stinginess. When the bill came, the stingy diner would try to get out of leaving a tip by complaining about everything from the quality of the utensils to the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. The other seething diners would have to make up the difference and we’d spend way too much time getting people to cough up extra dollars. I was always on a budget so stuck to affordable items for which I could afford to tack on tax, tip and a little extra. But it always seemed to be a lot extra.

When I dine out with friends these days, I try not to worry too much about paying a few dollars extra when it’s time to split the bill and leave a tip. The next time, we might be the ones who underpay by a few dollars. The alternative – everyone leaving a tip based on what they ate – would be inefficient and awkward, and probably wouldn’t make much difference. It helps that we hardly eat out in large groups and it’s rare that we eat with someone who orders six entrees and only pays for half that amount.

My problem with tipping these days is that it often feels like it’s imposed. And if I have no discretion in the matter, why not make it a service charge and include it the cost of the meal? I’d be less resentful and I might want to leave a tip on top of that, if I’m pleased with the service.

My Message to Microsoft: Go forth and diversify

I read a magazine article this week on things Microsoft should do to reinvent itself. One suggestion was that the software giant cut down on the types of business it does, instead of jumping on every bandwagon.

I don’t get it. What’s so wrong about having multiple business lines? Take, Sony, for instance: they made our HD television, my camera, and my folding headphones, and I am happy with all of them. Similarly, Microsoft puts out a lot of good products that I use regularly and am not ready give up. What’s more, they have the resources to try new things. It’s not as if Microsoft employs three people, and two of them spend their time scuttling back and forth between Exchange and X-box and end up doing an abysmal job with mail and consoles. They’re not spreading themselves thin.

If you have a lot of profitable business lines, are developing products that people want to use, why not diversify if you have the resources and manpower to take risks elsewhere?

 

Hats off to Redmond Firefighters

 

 

 

 

 

Pancake breakfast

 

New love affair with golf?

Druids Glen Golf Course in Covington, Washington

 

Some links are breathtakingly beautiful. I’m sure they are as expensive to design and maintain as they are to play on.

 

Golf for Beginners

I won’t take up golf. I’m convinced I’d enjoy the sport, because you never stop learning – and hopefully improving – and the greens are revitalizing.

Until recently, I thought the cost of golf was the most prohibitive factor. Not only do you have to pay costly greens fees, you have to pay for clubs and a pair of spectator shoes. And knee-length shorts. And a viser and rain gear, since golf is an all-weather sport.

Last week, I discovered an even bigger hurdle: time. A round of golf lasts between four and five hours. That’s a lot of babysitting hours.

Rainbow

 

 

Covington, Wash., after the rain last Saturday

Putting Green at Willows Run

We took Tiggy to the 18-hole putting course at Willows Run this weekend. He got a little yellow putter that he used to knock the ball into the holes. The adults got boring silver putters.

The putting course is far more interesting and challenging than mini golf, with the cheesy amusement park themes. And if you avoid peak playing times, especially Sunday afternoons, the putting course can be fun. Some of the holes are on sloping fairways so you have to hit up or down steep ramps that twist left and right. The water and sand traps make it even more exciting.

While Team David struggled to hit golf balls up the twisting slopes, Tiggy and I positioned our balls where we wanted them, and putt from there. Far less challenging but just as fun when you’re playing with a three-year-old.

Hot-air balloon

A hot-air balloon, or Montgolfière, as David prefers to call it, passed by our window right before sunset, last week. It came close enough for me to wave back to the balloonists in the basket and hear the fire blasts.

The idea of getting a birds-eye-view of the Sammamish Valley from the balloon is as awe-inspiring as the cost is prohibitively expensive. To get all three of us up in the air, we could sell our couch or shell out more than $600. 

If it was as thrilling for us to observe the balloon soaring above, I wonder what the people in the balloon must have been feeling.