NB: Not the common act of dumping of trash by a Route Nationale; the act of giving a gratuity.]
Tipping – one of the strongest unspoken forces that eats away at the fabric of Luxembourg society like a plague.
Ok not really - but it’s a mess. Americans happily round off a tip on a €7-8 pint. More dyed-in-the-wool Europeans will count their change and complain even though they know full well what they’re getting charged beforehand.
Do-gooder Grashley Scott explains the conundrum, “I wrestled a guy from Iowa to the ground once after he made a beeline to the waiter with a €10 bill. Goes without saying that I gave him a lecture about not rewarding overpaid, smug and downright lazy cunts.”
“On the other hand, last week I saw a morbidly obese local fish through a mountain of shrapnel in his fat palm, only to pluck out a miserly 20 cent coin for a bargirl. Why didn’t he just shit on his barstool?”
A plucky bartender candidly observed, “In this part of the world anything more than 5 cents is considered a tip. Do your worst.”
One of the rotten bastards who smirks at you when dropping your kids off at school has spoken.
In passing. Yes the wanker didn’t even stop.
See, back home in Normandy this gent impresses friends and family with boasts of skills in Luxembourgish, German and English.
OFFICIAL VERDICT: BULLSHIT on all three accounts.
Consequently, when more than one person are speaking any of these three the inferiority complex kicks in, like it did at a recent public school Open Day.
Parent Johan from Sweden offered, “After some official presentations we found that most of us spoke English as a common language. Which is when this particular gentlemen suddenly got animated. From over my shoulder he said, ‘Yeah but I know how this school works and you don’t. I know what’s on the menu every day and that's that.’
“When he strode out we also got ‘I can understand at least two in five of the songs on the radio so make a fuck you mother bitches.’”
The woman on the tram with the Hermes scarf initiated a movement last Friday. Recorded time 08:23.
Eyewitness Luca Galafassi nearly shit himself. "I nearly shit myself!" he said. "She picked up her gloves from the next seat by moving only her arm at the elbow. Not even her eyes."
"Something I thought was an elaborate work of art fucking moved and I'm deeply unsettled." He switched trams at this point explaining how he was going to ask for some days off sick.
A second commuter, Jean-Paul Bichelot, a smelly individual who routinely stands in the pram and disabled sections added, "I suspected she was one of those second-gen sex robots, a classy version. Probably one that only takes credit cards."
Luxtram refused to allow access to any CCTV to prove any of this, however another Kirchberg-bound worker, Tom Grageingwell came forward.
"More than the usual amount of people got on at Theatre and she picked up her gloves, but still left the 'L'Occitane' bag there. Can't say if it's the origin of an act of courtesy or they are merely a fucking expensive pair of gloves."
"No wait, that must be it. She works in our Legal Department and she's a right bitch."