Letters to the Editor

Penny pinching pupils leave pizza delivery people peeved

As a local pizza delivery driver, I would like to begin by saying that all pizza delivery drivers appreciate those residents on campus who tip when their pizza is delivered. It would be unfair for me to complain that all students and campus employees do not tip their delivery driver. For all of those people who do recognize the efforts of their driver, we say a big "Thank You!"

For those who do not tip, I am going to let you in on a little secret. We remember you. Do not think for a minute that I am going to forget that I did not receive a tip from room 227 at Prairie Hall and 525 1A Cougar Village Sunday night. However, just the same, I remember those who do tip, like 403 1A Cougar Village.

When I complain about how people on campus, or anywhere throughout the area, do not tip, I often hear, "Maybe they can't afford it." See, I figure if you cannot afford to tip $2, then you cannot afford to order $20 worth of pizza! That $20 can go a long way at the grocery store. I also hear, "Maybe they don't know they are supposed to tip." In the four years I have been in the business I have come upon two people who have said they did not know they were supposed to tip. I do not think that is the problem. But for those of you out there, who did not know, you do now.

Also, I would like to address those folks at the Cougar Village Commons or any other organization or department that requires purchase orders. The price in the purchase order does not include a tip. Please remember this the next time you see your delivery driver hauling twenty pizzas up a flight of stairs.

If you are one of those people who does not tip because your pizza did not arrive in the time specified at the time you ordered, then please keep in mind that 95 percent of the time it is not the driver's fault. Sometimes orders get messed up and there has to be a re-make or the expected delivery time has been extended because there was a rush of orders. These are factors that cannot be controlled by the driver. When you do not tip the driver you are not getting at the heart of the problems for yourself.

As finals week approaches, I hope that those who do not tip will remember that the person delivering your pizza works hard for the money he or she earns and deserves a couple of bucks.

Rebbecca Barsanti

local pizza delivery driver

Lucky Strike isn't so lucky for her any more

By E.J. Gallo

They were so much fun, why did they have to be deadly? They passed the time, relieved boredom, were useful in a crisis. A person in distress paced back and forth, paused only to flick an ash. A person with a flair for the dramatic waved them around. A person stalling for time pulled out a pack, shook one out and lit a match. They were ground out under a heel or crushed in an ashtray. In other words, cigarettes were a multipurpose, all-occasion crutch.

During the 1930s, Lucky Strike cigarettes were bought in small, flat green tins for 15 cents. White paper packs replaced the tins in 1941 and the company motto was "Lucky Strike Green Has Gone to War." Suppliers sent them to the GIs serving in Europe and the South Pacific, and women took the habit as well. A pack of cigarettes cost about 35 cents. Nobody complained about the fog of smoke the country lived in or the grumbling concerning the price. "If they go up to 50 cents a pack, I quit."

Nobody quit because a carton of cigarettes cost $2.50 in Kentucky, but only a dollar more in Missouri and Illinois.

But research scientists began exploring the consequences of smoking. They learned it caused heart disease, emphysema, deprived the brain of oxygen and was highly addictive. The surgeon general issued warnings and manufacturers printed them on packages. A few people quit, but many could not begin their day without a cigarette to go with their newspaper and coffee. And people relished an after dinner cigarette with coffee and good conversation around the dining room table. Secretly, smokers wondered about the dangers because so much was written. So for many years, non-smokers tolerated the carcinogenic air contributed by their friends until a few extremists raised their banners of doom, coughed, gasped and demanded a smoke-free atmosphere.

Smokers became as welcome as skunks at a picnic. Hotels, restaurants, airports became smoke free, and nobody smoked in other people's homes. With guilt came surrender.

The government levied exorbitant fines against the tobacco companies to satisfy lawsuits. The states were reimbursed for damages because somebody was going to pay for smoke-related illnesses and anti-smoking campaigns. And Congress, in its wisdom, imposed high, punitive taxes on the manufacturers, who in turn, increased their prices.

It is tough to quit cold turkey, but I am a penny-pinching tightwad. The difference between $12 for a carton of cigarettes and $25 became the final, convincing argument. Besides, I rebelled against standing out in the cold rain like a pasty-faced addict puffing my way to pneumonia.

But do I proselytize, preach reformation, sniff the air with suspicion? Indeed not. I eat. Hershey Kisses, jelly beans and gummy bears have a shelf life of 10 minutes in my house. Instead of an after-dinner cigarette, I have a chocolate, hot-fudge sundae with whipped cream and nuts. I fully intend to convert to carrot and celery sticks as soon as I quit feeling sorry for myself.