Stereotypes

Yesterday I drove into a petrol station to refuel my car. My daily mileage is such that I need to refuel every three to four days. The attendant came over and asked me what fuel I wanted. Having given him my preference, I switched off my engine and waited for my tank to fill. My mind tends to wander when I am cut-off from all sensory inputs, and waiting in my car with the engine and music turned off, my brain was free-wheeling. So sometime later I lifted my eyes to the rear view mirror to see where the attendant was, and I noticed that he was busy cleaning the windscreen of a 4WD that had pulled in behind me. By itself it was not an unusual sight, and I would have thought nothing of it, but then I started to wonder as to why the same attendant had not asked me whether I needed my windscreen cleaned? It had been dusty and sandy for the last few days, and all cars were in a similar state of messiness.

I almost never have my windscreen wiped at petrol stations, as my regular cleaner does a good job of it. But as I have mentioned often to my wife, it is just the fact that the attendant has the courtesy to ask me, that satisfies me. Anyway seeing the occupants of the vehicle behind me, I observed that they were Western European, which meant that the attendant assumed that he would be rewarded with a higher tip. I have always felt aggrieved when this happens to me. I get annoyed that the vehicle next to me is singled out for special service and I am neglected, and this time the same thought struck me with a higher ferocity. I consider myself a good tipper, and in situations like this I leave no tip, as retribution for the perceived injustice perpetrated on me.

Fuming in my car, I started to wonder as to what I would do if placed in the same situation as the attendant? I work long hours, in the hot sun, running around fuelling cars, cleaning windscreens, and getting paid a pittance. Tips that I earn would probably constitute a significant portion of my total take home pay. Over the months and years, I get to discern different customers, and get good at classifying them according to nationalities, behaviors and tipping patterns. If my income and savings were on the line, would I also not prioritise and be selective as to whom I would offer my service to?   

Continuing on that chain of thought I casually looked around the petrol station to view the various customers and drivers currently filling up. As would be expected the majority harked from the sub-continent, with a significant proportion driving pick-ups, and what appeared to me to be small battered-up company cars. I mentally started to try and work out who would and would not tip for my services. And as I started to segregate the tippers from the non-tippers, I realised that it was my compatriots who I was singling out as being tightfisted.

We are renowned for our frugality, and an overrated mindfulness of the value of every dollar. When it comes to 'giving', we tend to overlook inflation, the current value of money, etc. and immediately try to equate the change in our pockets to the monthly stipend we earned decades ago. We amplify the work that we do to earn our living, and belittle the other person's. The worth we place on the lowest unit of currency often exceeds it real value. And when we do offer a buck, we expect absolute value for it. We demand to be mollycoddled, mothered and slaved over for it. All of these then translate into the quantum of tips we leave behind. 

But I am different, I rationalised. I always leave a good tip, and it is wrong to stereotype attributes. All people are not the same, and the man should have the ability to distinguish! I looked at myself in the rearview mirror to convince myself that I somehow looked different, that I looked like a big tipper. And all I saw was an average Joe with no mark on his forehead to distinguish him from any of the others who he had so callously targeted as miserly.

Having worked all this out in my head, I came to understand the motives of the attendant for ignoring me, and diverting his attentions to where his expectations of reward were higher. 

So what did I do?

Well I lived up to the man's expectations, and drove off without leaving my customary tip!!