Royal Mail bosses have suggested to postmen that they should not accept a Christmas tip if it’s £30 or more. This is because under the terms of the new Bribery Act that sort of money could conceivably constitute a bribe. I’ve never been a postman, sadly, let alone a postman at Christmas. I don’t know how much a postman expects to make from Christmas tips. But I was seven years a dustman and for us Christmas was always a cash bonanza of mind-boggling proportions. I have lots of happy memories of stepping down from the dustcart on Christmas Eve, already tight as a tick, and heading straight for the pub, my trouser pockets bulging with wedges of cash several inches thick.
It wasn’t just cash we were given. Every evening in the fortnight leading up to Christmas I’d be going home with bottles of wine, half-bottles of vodka, boxes of chocolates, cakes, biscuits, sweets, assorted knitwear, socks, pocket diaries, scenic calendars and, after a day collecting rubbish from the remoter districts, string bags of turnips. It was crazy. For 11 months of the year I was skint, and for the one remaining month I lived like a lottery winner.
We were two loaders and a driver on our lorry. Every Christmas tip we were given, or found Sellotaped to a bin or black bag, we passed up to the driver. He put the money in a biscuit tin on the dashboard, next to his false teeth. Other gifts and consumables he stowed behind his seat. We divvied everything up three ways at the end of each week.
During the first week in December the Christmas tips trickled in; in the second week, the trickle became a steady stream; and by the third week envelopes containing cash were coming at us from all directions at once and we hardly drew a sober breath. The generosity was overwhelming. Here, a 50-pence piece stuck to a Christmas card from a pensioner living alone, addressed to ‘The Best in the West’. Here, a warm pound coin offered by trembling arthritic fingers. And, here, a newly minted £50 note, a bottle of brandy and handshakes all round from a grateful hotel owner.
Envelopes were addressed to ‘Our helpful Binmen’ or ‘The Likely Lads’ or ‘The Garbology Department’ and a stream of fivers, tenners and twenties from ordinary households was directed up into the biscuit tin on the dashboard in the cab. At every pub we called at we were invited in and asked what were we going to have. And surely we had time for another quick one for the road? At licensed restaurants the same thing. Large ones, lads? Happy Christmas to one and all! The first year I experienced the public’s yuletide generosity, I had a smile on my face for the entire month.
Some of the Christmas tipping was outright bribery — of course it was. Businesses had to pay per black bag to have their rubbish taken away. It’s surprising how much cardboard even a small business has to dispose of in a year. Twenty or 30 quid to the lads at Christmas, plus a sweetener of the same amount in the brisker summer months, and a fish and chip shop could save itself a lot of money.
And even for the ordinary householder, a Christmas tip in the shape of a pound coin or a £5 note could represent a wise investment. To be fair it wasn’t the amount that swayed us. The amount didn’t much matter. It was simply that appreciation had been shown. To someone who hadn’t shown any all year, it would be, ‘Sorry, sir. We aren’t allowed to take garden refuse.’ To any who had, it would be, ‘What? This old fridge to go? Certainly, madam!’ ‘Chest freezer? No problem at all, sir!’ We took a car for a good tipper once. He cut it up and we took it away over three weeks. We took unwanted trees, fridges, wardrobes, dinghies and bags of rubble. Nothing was too much trouble for people who showed appreciation.
But of course it all went wrong. After a few bumper Christmases like that, I began taking tips for granted. Instead of being overwhelmed by gratitude for people’s generosity, I came eventually, calamitously, to expect it. I became greedy. And there is no greater disaster, of course, than greed. Falling out with colleagues over trifles was just the pathetic start of it. Maybe (let’s hope!) postmen are by and large more balanced individuals than binmen. Ours is a model of probity and sound good sense. But no matter how kind and well balanced your postman is, try to remember that this year it’s best to give him or her a Christmas tip of no more than £29.99, or you both might be in trouble.
Comments