A while back I saw my friend Jody Olson tweeting about poor cell phone etiquette. It’s a peeve of mine, too, so I invited Jody to write a guest post for this Make the World Better blog. Here it is, with a big “hallelujah” from me. You can comment here, and you can find Jody online at on the Chapter Two blog or the Chapter Two website.

How do you know when you’re guilty of misusing your cell phone in public? When the circus clown calls you out.

A friend was attending the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. During the show she pulled out her Blackberry to check in for her flight the next morning. “I wanted to get an ‘A’ boarding pass,” she later told me. But the clown, standing next to her in the beam of a giant spotlight, caught her in the act.

“Hey, lady!” he barked, “I don’t come to your work and ignore you!”

My friend’s entire section erupted in laughter and stared at my friend, her sister, her niece and nephew as they sat in the spotlight, shrinking into their seats. “We were so embarrassed,” her sister said of herself and her kids.

Interestingly, I’m not sure my friend felt embarrassed at all. Some people have no compunction about taking calls, texting, checking email, or surfing the Web…any time, in any place.

Are you an offender? When you’re having coffee with a friend, do you steal furtive glances at your Blackberry, which you cradle in your palm beneath the table? Or worse: When your phone rings, do you spring up from the table, leaving your companion in mid-sentence, holding up a finger to signal “shush,” then walk off to take the call? The clear implied message to your companion is that you’ve just found the opportunity to speak to someone more interesting than they.

Here’s an idea: If you anticipate an important incoming call, email, or text, let the other party know beforehand. “Hey, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m expecting a call. If I have to step away, I hope you understand.”

Try to take care of your important business prior to a visit or afterward. If silencing your phone isn’t an option, don’t be a clown about it. Be tactful, polite, and considerate. Give people the courtesy of your undivided attention.

I pulled into The Home Depot parking lot the other morning, apparently right after the morning rush, and nearly every available space and half of the aisles were obstructed with lumber carts and flat-bed carts. I carefully – and skillfully – slid my pickup in between two carts and nosed up against a third one. Then I got out, grabbed a cart, and pushed it inside with me as I entered the store. It’s a simple thing to do, probably burns a few extra calories, and makes the world a better place. Give it a try the next time you pull into the parking lot of a grocery store or megamart.

Of course, it goes without saying (except here on my blog) that when you leave the store with your purchases and after you unload them into your car, you should take the extra 30 seconds to push the cart to the cart storage area, and don’t just leave it in an open parking space. That good deed you performed going into the store doesn’t relieve you from your cart stewardship when you exit.

(Photo by Kevin Dean: betaart.com)

I went for a couple of pints of Guinness with my buddy Josh last night, and watching him calculate his tip to the penny reminded me that this post was overdue.

This I believe:

• Nearly any server needs the money more than I do
• 20% is your starting point for tipping, only truly bad service (not bad food, bad ambience, ugly patrons) should influence your tip below 20%

With these principles in mind, here’s my 3-step, 5-second process to calculating your tip:

1. Round up your total (including tax) to the nearest dollar
2. Double the total, then divide by 10
3. Round up to the next dollar

That’s your tip. Simple. Let’s look at this step-by-step, using my $18.62 total for 2 pints and one fish and chips entree (beer-battered, of course):

1. Round up to $19
2. Double to $38, then divide by 10 to get $3.80
3. Round up to $4 to get the correct tip amount

Backing out the tax from my original total, I can assume that my food and drink total was around $17.20, so my $4 tip amounts to 23%. That’s an above-average tip, which is about where I want to start. If the service was good, I’ll throw in an extra buck or two. It’s only a buck or two but it increases the tip to the 30% – 35% range. That’s a good deal.

Now, let’s compare this with Josh’s process and the tip amount he arrived at:

1. Review the check to determine the pretax total of $17.20
2. Calculate 20%, using my simple “double then divide by 10″ trick to get $3.44
3. Add $3.44 to $18.62 to get your check total of $22.06
4. Realize that you saved only 56 cents for the effort of doing that math with two pints of Guinness coursing through your brain
5. Realize that for your 56 cents in savings, you demoted yourself from an above-average tipper to an average tipper

Isn’t it so much easier to just round everything up, do the simple math, and be an above-average to good tipper?

(photo by fensterbme)

Most people can, without thinking, form a possessive noun. You build one by adding an apostrophe and an “s” to a noun, as in “Occam’s razor” and “the cat’s meow.”

But things are different with pronouns. (Pronouns are those little words that stand in for nouns, such as he, she, it, they, us, him, her, you.) You NEVER use an apostrophe for the possessive form of a pronoun.

That bears repeating: You NEVER use an apostrophe for the possessive form of a pronoun. Instead, you use a different word. So the possessive of “me” is “mine” and the possessive of “he” is “his.” So far so good.

“It” is the problem pronoun. To form the possessive, “it” DOES get an “s” on the end, but it doesn’t get an apostrophe. Repeat after me: You NEVER use an apostrophe for the possessive form of a pronoun.
Here’s how to get it right for “its” and “it’s”:
• “Its” is possessive, as in “This web app is pretty, but I’m not sure about its usefulness.”
• “It’s” is a contraction of “it is,” as in “It’s time for mojitos.”

It’s confusing, I know, so any time you type an apostrophe, I recommend that you pause and remember that rule. I don’t need to repeat it again, do I?

What else trips you up when you’re writing? Let me know and I’ll try to shed some light.

This one gets me every time I go to a movie. The movie lets out, a stream of men queue up in the men’s room, and by the time I get my bladder emptied and arrive at the sink, it looks like New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.

So let’s bring Leave No Trace principles to the restroom, gentlemen, with these simple guidelines.

1. At the urinal, you face a tough decision: Don’t flush and conserve water, or flush and be gentlemanly. I feel there’s room for discretion here. If it’s a fancy place, flush. If it’s a ballpark or movie theater or sports bar, and guys are lined up, give the Earth a boost and leave it.
2. No decisions at the sink. Splash as little as possible. Use soap. Actually wash your hands. This is not for show.
3. Take no more than two towels. Start with one, and if you need another, take another. You don’t need eight. You just don’t.
4. Now the tough one: Use the paper towel with which you dried your hands to wipe off the countertop. It takes less than two seconds, and if everyone does it, it will only take the one towel. Of course, everyone doesn’t do it, so that’s why you need to be the one who does.
5. Finally, throw the towel in the trash. Not on the counter. Not on the floor. Not NEAR the trash. Make sure it goes in. If you miss, get your own rebound and finish, even if it means bending over a little. The thing that separates us from the great apes is at stake here.

Have your own thoughts? Please let me have it.

But don’t bother to write if your message is a variation on “that’s somebody else’s job.” If you haven’t evolved beyond that mentality, you shouldn’t be using writing implements.