Ask Dr. Truth

Ask Dr. Truth

by Hall Monitor staff psychologist Sherrie Truth

Dear Dr. Truth: The other day I was dining at a casual, fast food-type sandwich shop. After ordering my sandwich, I was astonished to see a large tip jar next to the register. I had never seen anything like that in a fast food place. I had always assumed the people that work there actually make a wage and don't have to rely on tips like waiters do, so I couldn't quite understand why the jar was there. I put a couple of bucks in it anyway because I felt I had to, plus I was worried that if I didn't they might do something to my food the next time I ate there. Was I right? -- Hungry in Altoona

Dear Hungry: What you witnessed at the sandwich shop was the professional equivalent of standing on the street corner and asking passers by if they can spare a dime. In a word, begging. Trust me on this, the workers who made your sandwich do indeed make a wage, and the tip jar is just their way of trying to squeeze a few extra (tax free) bucks out of suckers like you. As far as I'm concerned, this is borderline extortion. Believe me, they know that you're afraid they'll spit on your sandwich or pee in your taco salad if you don't cough up the tip, and they have no problem with that. My advice is to eat there one more time if you'd like, but pay for your meal only and make a point of not putting anything in the tip jar. Then, write to the company's corporate headquarters and let them know what's going on, and switch to a fast food eatery that doesn't charge it's customers a premium for their business. If this greedy rot isn't nipped in the bud, before you know it we'll see tip jars popping up in doctors' offices, the DMV, law firms, police stations, etc., and our country will take its rightful place alongside the banana republics and eastern European hell holes where corruption flows like water.

Dear Dr. Truth: I was mortified by your advice to Scared and Lonely in Montana. Suggesting that she commit suicide made me blanche with disgust. She seemed to be in terrible distress and crying out for help, and you failed her terribly. I feel that everyone has some redeeming qualities, even if they may not be immediately apparent. You say you're a psychologist, but methinks you're a case study of "physician heal thyself". It seems like you need to sort out a few issues yourself and learn how to really deal with people in pain before you continue doling out advice to others. -- Appalled in Baltimore

Dear A.B.: I stand by my advice, which, I might add, was unfairly deleted by the Hall Monitor legal staff shortly after publication. I didn't "suggest" that she commit suicide. My exact words were, "Go ahead and kill yourself, see if I give a sh*t, bitch." It's called tough love, and like it or not it's a proven psychological method. "Methinks" you won't understand it, in spite of your pretentiousness and sanctimonious attitude. Bleeding hearts like you make me sick. You'd be the first to complain if some anarchist was arrested for petitioning to euthanize Congress, yet you want to silence my small little voice on the Internet. In my opinion, the more letters I get from true nut jobs like you, the more I know my advice is spot on.

Dear Dr. Truth: Several months ago I accidentally messed myself while riding the train home from work. I was horrified, especially since I had twenty minutes left before my stop and I and everyone around me could smell it the whole time. Ever since then, I have been terrified it would happen again. The worst thing is, my mind plays trick with me and I'm terrified I'm oozing out something even when I'm not. Sometimes I can even swear I smell something, only later to thankfully discover clean undies. I realize that what happened was a fluke and it's unlikely to happen again, especially since I'm extra vigilant now, but that doesn't seem to make me any more comfortable. What can I do? -- Incontinent and Waiting

Dear Incontinent: If I learned one thing growing up in a family of brothers, it's this: He who smelt it, dealt it, and this applies here in spades, doesn't it? Your experience would make even the most psych-savvy nervous about their gastric functions, so it's only natural you feel a bit squeamish on the ride home lately. Unfortunately, there's not much for me to advise. I sense you realize that you would know it if you actually messed yourself these days, and that you know that those smells you register on the ride home these days are phantoms. No amount of bum-wiping or panty checking will make you feel better. All I can suggest is donning an adult diaper before you hit the L.I.R.R. and learning to live with the shame of potential fecal incontinence. At least you'll know that if anything does happen, you won't ruin those DKNY khakis.


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Questions for Dr. Sheryl Truth can be sent directly to the Hall Monitor .