A tipping point for gratuities
I was in a grocery the other day buying milk, when the bored-looking server turned his credit card machine toward me, displaying the choice of a 15, 20 or 25 per cent tip.
This for grabbing my own two litres of milk from the fridge and having the clerk point the credit card machine my way. In essence, I would be tipping him for asking for a tip.
It’s a fast-growing trend nowadays as we’re pressed to tip everywhere from groceries, bakeries and fast food places to some car repair shops.
Practically the only places not asking for tips yet are ATM machines, but I’m sure the banks are working on it. Everyone else is. What next? Asking for tips at self-serve gas stations, where they should be tipping us?
Tipping has always been complex. We do it in restaurants, hotels and taxis, but not supermarkets; we tip hairdressers and pedicurists, not shoe salesmen. Sommeliers make four times the tip for opening a $120 bottle of wine as for a $30 one that takes identical labour.
I’ve always believed in tipping service people generously, but lately it’s a reflex I have to suppress, because absolutely everyone wants a big tip.
Recently at a bakery, I ordered three breads and a frozen quiche, and the screen showed 15 to 30 per cent tip options. There wasn’t an option for “no tip,” but there was a lineup behind me, so I scrambled to hit a key that said “other amount.”
I didn’t have my reading glasses, so I peered at the new menu’s multiple options for too long and the machine froze. The clerk had to redo my bill and hand back the machine.
I sensed grumbling behind me in line, as if I were buying 14 lottery tickets whose numbers I was deciding on, while carefully factoring in the date, my lucky numbers and my Zodiac birth sign.
I didn’t want to fumble again, so I guiltily pushed the 15 per cent option for wasting the server’s time, but only when I left did I realize: “Wow! I just left a $4 tip for bread.”
Some of this “tip creep” started during COVID-19 when restaurants only served takeout, and employees were stressed out and facing some stubbornly unvaccinated, unmasked munchers.
So we all contributed more to newly appreciated front-line workers by leaving better tips, a kind of hero’s hazard pay for keeping the world going in an era of germ terror. It’s been dubbed the Great Pandemic Tipping Boom of 2020.
But though the pandemic has eased up, tips keep creeping up and we may have reached a tipping point.
Adding to tip creep, cash has practically disappeared, replaced everywhere from farmers’ markets to food trucks by tiny, smartphone-linked card terminals that automatically ask for minimum 15 per cent tips.
Again, there’s almost never a “no tip” option. You have to look for “custom amount,” usually under the guilt-inducing gaze of the employee you’re considering whether to tip.
Once you tip, the machines often flash programmed messages like “BRILLIANT!” for 25 per cent, “EXCELLENT!” for 20 and “OK” for anything less.
There are even reports that some garages and plumbers have requested 15 per cent and higher tips on $2,800 repair bills (that’s at least $420).
Expect car salesmen to follow, requesting 20 per cent tips on a $32,000 new vehicle.
Now that electronic tipping’s become routine, many underpaid cashiers insist employers keep the onscreen tip option. I don’t blame them, but I also feel it’s the employers’ job to pay them to ring up the cash, not mine.
We should tip service people well for their work, especially waiters who earn less than the hourly minimum wage in some provinces, since they’re expected to compensate with tips.
They work hard and remain cheerful with often demanding customers who probably drive their spouses crazy. Likewise for expert latte makers, hard-pressed kitchen staff, dishwashers, busboys and bartenders.
But when you grab your own sandwich from a cooler and bus your own table, you shouldn’t be pressured to tip 15 per cent, or more.
We should tip delivery people well, too, along with barbers, tattoo artists and other personal services. But when you’ve lugged a 24-pack of beer to the dep cash, it’s crazy to be asked for a $4 tip.
It used to be easy to drop 50 cents in a tip jar on the counter for a coffee, but those are disappearing as fast as cash, replaced by automated screen tips. At a jazz fest I bought an ice cream bar from an outdoor vendor for $6.75 and would normally have left the 25 cents change.
But none of the vendors took cash anymore, so I was faced with the usual 15 per cent request, for him handing me the bar — and I declined. In the future, I’ll try to carry a plastic pouch of cash around — and if someone doesn’t want my loonie, I’ll just tip myself.
Thank you for reading. Choose one of the following tip options: $5 ... $500 ... $5,000.
$5,000? BRILLIANT!
ONLY WHEN I LEFT DID I REALIZE: ‘WOW! I JUST LEFT A $4 TIP FOR BREAD.’