January 11, 2017 Article

It’s hard for the Old Coot to be a cheapskate.

By Merlin Lessler

It’s getting harder and harder to be a cheapskate. And, get away with it. Restaurants, some of them anyway, are starting to add a 20% tip to your bill. Others, like the ones around here, provide such good service you can’t deal with the guilt that comes from leaving a cheapskate tip. Cruise ships don’t give you envelopes so you can tip your head waiter, waiter, assistant waiter, wine steward, maître d’ and cabin boy at the end of your cruise, they add it to your bill, and automatically charge it to your credit card. Cafes and coffee shops place a tip jar right next to the cash register; it’s hard to walk away without tossing in enough coinage to rattle the jar to earn a thank-you smile from the clerk. If you try to toss in a handful of pennies you’re out of luck; pennies have a distinctive flat sound that screams, “Cheapskate!” Everyone in the place will turn to stare at you in disapproval.

Even the federal government is in on the conspiracy. They changed how they sell savings bonds. Gone are the days when a cheapskate like me could go to a bank, any bank, and buy a $25 bond for $18.75, and give it as a present to an unsuspecting birthday-boy or girl, “Wow, the Old Coot gave me $25!” What did they know; their parents wouldn’t let them cash it in until they reached college age. By then, the evidence of cheapness would disappear. The bond would be worth face value, and more.  And, your name would be on it to remind them of how generous you were.

But, not anymore. The jig is up. First of all, you can’t buy a bond at a bank; you must go on-line and set up an account for yourself. Then, you have to cajole the kid’s parents into setting up a bond account for themselves and another for their kid. You can then purchase the bond, hold it in your account for five days and then authorize its delivery to the kid’s account. He doesn’t get a bond to hold in his grubby little paws, something tangible that looks like official currency. He ends up with an e-mail or an account statement that shows the birthday bond you bought him.  And, to the bane of a cheapskate like me, the face value is the purchase price. My overstated generosity is eliminated from the picture. Yes siree Bob! It tough to be a cheapskate these days.   

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