stiffedboy

I really wanted to give you a tip. I always tip. I often tip too well. I tip when the service is horrendous and the person I'm tipping routinely kicks me out of the bar for no reason. I could not tip you however as you didn't have change to break a twenty and there was no place on the credit card receipt for me to write one in. It was on the corner of Tonawanda and Niagara. My minivan's belt flew off after barreling through a puddle on the 198 on my way to graduation. You found it odd that graduation was held before the final day to submit work. I agreed. You said you were still working on a paper and it was due next week. I said good luck. When it became apparent that I could not give you a tip, you told me not to worry about it and to tip the next guy. I asked your name as I left. You said Brain. I planned on mailing a tip the next week addressed to you at your employer, but like most of my good intentions, I failed to follow through. If this was indeed you Stickboy, than I do believe I owe you a drink or two.