Workin' At The Car Wash

A couple days ago, I went to a nearby car wash.  It's one of those old-school places where, from behind glass, you can watch your car go through the wash line.  The workers vacuum the interior, wipe it all down inside and out, clean the windows, and ArmorAll the tires -- all while you sit there and watch them sweat.  If you opt for the full treatment, it's about a $25 service.  Not cheap, but they do a very good job.

The car which went through just before mine was a late 1980's/early 1990's mid-size GM station wagon, and it was a real beater -- peeled paint, dented fenders, bent hubcaps, broken-taped-up taillights, and nasty rusted-through rear quarter panels.  Not the sort of car you see everyday at a nice car wash.

Anyway, when they finally drive your car outside for the final dry-off, most of the real work is over and it's pretty much for show.  When the guy with the rag signals that he's finished, you're supposed to tip him, for Chrissakes.  And I'm watching the owner of this broken-down wagon tell the rag man that his wipe-down job wasn't good enough -- missed a drip here and there, and how about hand-drying this jagged, rusty metal right here?  And I'm thinking, with this piece of shit car, what does it matter?  Really, why are you here?

The rag man dutifully hit those spots, and Mr. Picky-Ass hopped in his clunker and drove off without a word, and without a tip.

Nothing wrong with an old car.  Drive whatever you like.  Nothing wrong with taking your old car to the car wash.  But not tipping the guy who busted his butt cleaning your vehicle?  Wrong!