I recently moved to a new apartment and gained an insight that just might save us from economic apocalypse. During the course of the move, the movers began to behave increasingly oddly. First, after agreeing to a credit card payment, they abruptly demanded cash. Then they demanded half of that cash halfway through the work. Then they revealed their overtime rates were greater than previously explained. My brother and I became increasingly frustrated, but didn’t really object (you feel weird low-balling someone who just hauled a couch to a fourth story walkup). We agreed to pretty much all of their demands, and when the truck was empty my brother went to settle the inflated tab, even tacking on a tip.

A moment later he came back to me.

“It’s not enough.”

“What?”

“The tip. He wants a larger tip.”

At this point the mover for the first time revealed he felt entitled to a 15 percent gratuity on top of the bill, which had already swelled up like Russell Crowe since Gladiator.

Here we drew the line, telling the mover it would take a much heavier couch going to a much higher floor before he saw another dime.

This is the point when I save the universe and enable Barack to win a second term: our transaction was everything wrong with the economy in a microcosm. I, the consumer, was so eager to believe I was getting a good deal I signed up for something filled with strange conditions and hidden costs (sound familiar, adjustable rate mortgage holders?). In turn, the suppliers—i.e., the movers—were so determined to squeeze every last penny from the situation they transformed me from someone eager to recommend them to all my friends who were also moving to a bitter man who will never deal with them again, which strikes me as shortsighted (if I were an AIG exec, I’d probably view it differently). Clearly the time has come for us to face up to real costs, which may not entirely please the consumer or the supplier but at least will be free from surprises.

We can start by factoring in gratuities to the prices of entrees on menus.

This may sound a small step, but it’s a crucial one. How can we bring down the federal deficit if we can’t cope with the true cost of dining at Red Lobster? Customers will make the sacrifice of shelling out a little more for the Sailor’s Platter, while waiters will be paid a higher wage so they can still make the rent. Will there be a backlash? Yes. Low tippers will resent they no longer can pretend that a crisp five dollar bill is sufficient for any tab no matter how large, while servers with a knack for hiding tips from the bus boys will see their earnings plummet. I say: it’s worth it. By conducting our daily transactions in the most direct and transparent way possible, we can provide Wall Street and Washington a blueprint for avoiding future disasters (or, more realistically, make the future disasters slightly less disastrous).

Eventually this will apply to the entire service industry and then all of society, so that one day when three Eastern Europeans lug the futon to my new place I can give them a little extra and actually mean it.

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