lol, I see that the tipping topic is dear to American's hearts. Well, there seems to be a reason for that (i guess, with the paltry wage identified by Eden - unbelievable really) but the typical practice for most people from around here (Toronto) is an even 15%. I haven't heard of anybody doing less. Although the custom is that the tip % is calculated on the PRE-TAX amount on the cheque. The automated ATM devices used by most restaurants now calculated the pre-set 15% on the taxes in amount. But I don't quibble over a couple of bucks.
So, the Taxes/Hockey convergence seems to be carried on in this additional column related to the Buffalo Junior Hockey tournament:
Kelly: An unfortunate world junior misunderstanding - thestar.com
An unfortunate world junior misunderstanding
Buffalo, before this thing gets all War of 1812, let’s sit down and have a little talk.
You were good enough to host the World Juniors. We were good enough to fill the seats.
Emotions ran high. Mainly, us really caring and you not really getting why we cared so much, but shrugging your shoulders and climbing on for the ride.
Everybody had a few drinks. Somebody said something to somebody else that everyone else heard about. And suddenly a lot of feelings were hurt.
Afterward, one of you said some mean things about us.
We (i.e., I) said some things back.
They republished the column I wrote about the whole mess in The Buffalo News on Wednesday morning.
My email inbox started to fill up with slights against my intelligence, manliness and use of the letter ‘u’ in words like ‘neighbours.’ That last one tipped me off that this wasn’t the usual daily batch of hate mail.
“You are a total arrogant (blank) (blank) and I mean that in the most hurtful way,” began one of my favourites. “(P)lease burn down the Peace Bridge and never come back here.”
Isn’t the Peace Bridge made of steel? So how would we … never mind.
There was a lot more in the (blank)-ety (blank)-ing vein. In my daytimer, right under ‘2007 New Year’s resolutions’, I made a special note: ‘Find a better class of enemy’.
There were other irritated, though less expletive, notes.
Many of these had a pair of themes. First, ‘We don’t want to fight, but …’. And second, ‘Why don’t Canadians tip?’
Is this really a big issue that no one told me about? Canada, are you going into foreign countries and counting out your nickels after a four-course meal? Well then, stop that. It’s embarrassing for the rest of us.
Besides hockey, the one thing we get to lord over the Americans right now is our steroidally impressive economy. How are they going to know how flush we are if we don’t go down there and spread cash around like we’re running for office?
Some people mentioned the chanting of “U.S.A. sucks” by Canadian fans, though they were willing to give us the benefit of the doubt.
“I feel that a few a------- in the crowd do not represent the entire group, no matter where you are,” wrote Tom Stankowski. I believe he’s quoting the official motto of all family reunions right there.
And though we’re the a------- he’s referring to, I’m going to try to take Tom’s note in the Gandhi-esque spirit I hope it was meant.
“We loved having raucous Canadians in town for the tournament. But after a couple of weeks of it, we kind of loved it when the tournament was over, too,” wrote Blair Webster. “That doesn’t mean we love you less than we did.”
Which is, you will agree, reasonable and sort of flattering.
After an a.m. deluge of ill will, there was a turning of the tide by midday.
A third sort of email began to flood in.
This was a steady series of without-reservation apologies for any offence caused and appeals to cross-border amity.
“As a resident of Buffalo, I nominate you to receive the ‘Thank You’ that Western New York wants to give to you and your fellow Canadians,” David Brand wrote.
Everybody, listen up. Dave says ‘Thank you’. He asked me to tell you that.
There was a lot more like that, all of it earnest and touching. Another writer signed off with, “Your Friend.”
Buffalo, for a minute there, it looked like things were going to go off. Kind of like when you were a kid and you were play-wrestling with your brother, and someone accidentally got bopped hard in the nose. For a moment, you stop and stare at each other, trying to decide if a pretend-fight is going to become the real thing.
We just had that moment, Buffalo. I think we’ve decided that we know each other too well to let a few angry words ruin a long friendship.