Tipped Off

I recently bought Billy Joel’s best-of album. I love it. I’ve heard some of these songs before, but now I have a much wider array of his work.

One of my favorite songs of his is “Piano Man.” It’s a classic I’ve heard before, and have enjoyed it—Although, because of Weird Al, any time this song comes up I find myself mentally substituting parody phrases.

While I work I set my music player to just play random songs. I usually don’t pay much attention to what is actually played. I often can’t understand the lyrics anyway.

A couple weeks ago I was working away and “Piano Man” came on. I barely noticed it…until I was wrenched out of my work, thrown into a flash-back, and got a black lump in my stomach.

I thought back to the lyrics and recalled the phrase that tripped me.

…and they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar…

***

On a Valentine’s Day several years ago I took a girl on a date to a local Italian restaurant. We had a great time, talking, eating, and occasionally noticing and commenting relatively positively on the live music.

When we had finished our meal, we headed out the door. We passed the stage where the singer and her accompanists performed. I noticed a jar on the stage with her and while my date and I continued out the door (with smiles on our faces), I made eye contact with the vocalist and nodded slightly. In that split-second before my eyes traveled back to my date and our path out the door, I saw the performer become downcast.

My smile disappeared as I tried to figure out why. My date happily bounded out the front door with my hand in hers.

Shortly after I stepped outside I realized my faux pas. The musician was expecting a tip and my smile and nod had indicated that she would receive one.

But I didn’t deliver.

***

Every time I think of that incident I get this deep dark pit in my stomach. It always tears me away from whatever I am doing and I end up in a funk for the rest of the day.

I wish I had known the expectations in that situation, but I didn’t. And I rarely carry cash. But I still feel really bad for not being aware of the social convention and not being prepared to give her a tip.

Although it is utterly silly for me to feel so bad about something I didn’t know about beforehand, the best I can figure is that I hate disappointing people.

And now I have a song in my collection which will remind me of this particular disappointment every time I hear it.

Maybe by sharing this particular mortification I can finally overcome this incident.