The tipping gods must be crazy

I was among the first people in my circle to tip the carhop at Sonic. I’ve also given gratuities to my mail carrier, garbage man and the delivery guy who charged me exhorbitantly for filling my propane tank after hours. Once, I was even accused of being gauche for tipping $10 on a $20 haircut.

In full disclosure, I’ve also left pennies and a coarse napkin note for a server who seemed to require intense therapy and anger management classes.

The common denominator in all of those events: the tip happened after the service was rendered.

During the past few weeks, we have patronized three restaurants that request tips upon paying the tab — before the meal is served. All three businesses employed a counter ordering system in which customers pay in advance via a crowd-visible iPad. The system is similar to ordering at a fast food restaurant, except I’ve yet to hit up a McDonald’s or Whataburger that puts the patron in such a precarious position.

Have we really arrived at such preposterousness?

During my vent to a longtime friend recently about this advanced tipping thing, he abruptly cut me off. “Hate it,” he twice repeated as I started to explain why such a practice is just … backward. This old friend, by the way, very much lives by the same gratuity code as Lawrence Tierney’s mob boss character Joe Cabot in Reservoir Dogs.

Mr. Pink: “I don’t tip because society says I have to. All right, I mean I’ll tip if someone really deserves a tipping, if they really put forth the effort, I’ll give them something extra, but I mean this tipping automatically, it’s for the birds. I mean as far as I’m concerned they’re just doing their job.”

A little later in the scene…

Joe Cabot : “He don’t tip? Whaddaya mean you don’t tip?”
Mr. Orange : “He don’t believe in it.”
Joe Cabot: “Shut up!”

Just like Joe Cabot, my friend always seems to think that everyone should throw their share in the tip pile. But advance tipping?

“It’s an age-based thing,” he told me. “It’s much like these fucking kids who don’t understand that ‘No problem.’ is not the proper way to respond to someone who says ‘Thank you.'”

In her Wall Street Journal article You Want 20% for Handing Me a Muffin? The Awkward Etiquette of iPad Tipping, author Jennifer Levitz writes: Tip jars have long sat on counters, but consumers have all sorts of viable excuses for avoiding them or tossing in just a few coins, such as not having the right change, according to Michael Lynn, a professor and tipping expert at Cornell University’s School of Hotel Administration. Not so, he says, with the electronic tip prompts that explicitly require consumers to opt out of gratuities. “You can’t even pretend like you forgot,” he says. “It clearly ups the social pressure to tip.”

Though my experiences occurred long after Levitz’ article hit the pages, I totally concur.

My first experience caught me way off guard. It was advertised and reviewed (by the Houston Chronicle) as a higher end eatery. It never occurred to me that such upper scale restaurants usually employ waitstaff who wear ebony-colored slacks and bow ties. Here, I read my order from a chalkboard while standing at a counter. The polite lady, after asking me if I’d like dessert, directed me to the 12.9-inch iPad screen to settle up.

Because it was dinner and because there was a line in my rear view mirror, I tapped the 20 percent button — $10 for a $50 order that I ordered no differently than had I been a Dairy Queen patron. Just as important, I was responsible for filling my tea glass and selecting my flatware from cafeteria-style compartments. Indeed, someone delivered my meal to the table, and someone was nice enough to reappear halfway through my meal to inquire as to whether I might want to change my mind about dessert.

As delicious as the food truly was, the apparent tip-shaming left a layer of rancidity on my taste buds.

Tipping in advance is nothing new, by the way. But the rules have changed over time. Historians have pretty much proven the TIP acronym To Insure Promptness as lore. Still, the practice hasn’t always been the exception. My friend pointed out to me that his father regularly offered a portion of the gratuity up front so that servers and stewards weren’t always “betting on the come.”

I’m curious though what his reaction would have been had the advance tip been requested via an iPad in the company of onlookers.

No problem? No way!

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Have You Ever Been Arrested?

 

“Have you ever been arrested?”

This was one of the first questions my friend’s date asked him as they were headed out for dinner. Andrea rested her hand languidly on the steering wheel and looked at my friend expectantly.

“Um … no,” he said, glancing at her. “Have you?”

“Of course.”

Of course. Ben shifted slightly in his seat.  His friend had insisted he would like Andrea, even though Ben had sworn off blind dates for eternity. His last blind date had been a disaster, the girl (Dina? Diane? Dana?) sat silent and looked petrified, her eyes widening in horror when the waitress approached their table. 

But after seeing pictures of Andrea, he caved. Andrea was attractive, in a wholesome, all American sort of way. Her honey-colored hair, freckled nose, and brown eyes portrayed something light and airy, almost refreshing.

Now here they were, encapsulated in Andrea’s Honda Civic heading north. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, her being arrested. Maybe she was protesting for an honorable cause and was taken into custody for trespassing. Or perhaps she took the heat for a friend, allowing them to escape while she stood there bravely, letting the cops slap handcuffs on her dainty wrists.

Ben cleared his throat. “What were you arrested for?”

Andrea glanced at the road before resting her gaze on Ben’s face, unwavering. “Vandalism.”

“Vandalism?” Ben repeated. “Like, graffiti?”

“Nah. I keyed my ex boyfriend’s car.”

Ben wasn’t certain, but he thought his heart stopped beating for a split second. 

“You keyed your boyfriend’s car? Why?”

Andrea shrugged, staring ahead. “He broke up with me.”

Shit. This date had to end fast. The last thing he wanted was anything to happen to his BMW. His BMW was his baby, his pride and joy. This was the very reason he insisted Andrea drive. Their lunch destination was located on a road that hadn’t been paved in decades. Ben didn’t want to take the chance of pebbles or debris scratching his Beemer’s freshly waxed exterior. Now that paled in comparison to what Andrea could do.

“Wow,” was all Ben could muster. He frantically made plans. Act like a jerk, so she’ll never want to see you again. No … no. That may piss her off. She’ll track me down and disfigure my car. Boring! Be really boring so she’ll never want to see you again!

So Ben tried to be a dud. He sat stone-faced, like Dina (Dana? Diane?) and said very little. Andrea didn’t seem to notice. At one point she reached over and stroked his hand with her thumb, announcing how happy she was to be there with him. A sense of dread engulfed him. 

Driving home, Andrea started to plan their future. Ben panicked.

“I don’t think this is going to work out,” he said. Silence. He watched Andrea’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel, her knuckles turning a shade of white. “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m just not ready for anything …” 

Ben stopped talking. Were they going faster? The scenery flying by Ben’s window was gathering speed. He grabbed the edges of his seat. Andrea was facing forward, her foot gradually pressing down harder on the gas pedal.

“But I know someone perfect for you!” he blurted out.

He could feel Andrea’s body relax. Her foot eased off the accelerator. “Oh yeah? Who?”

“My buddy.” Frantically, Ben thought of his friends. Who would be attracted to someone like this?

“Which buddy?”

And then Ben thought of Doug. Doug who was always kicked out of bars for crazy behavior. Doug who just took it one step too far. Doug and Andrea would be perfect for each other.

“Doug.”

Doug?” she repeated. “What kind of name is that?”

But she was satisfied and dropped my friend off in one piece, but not without the orders of Doug contacting her immediately. On impulse, Ben went into the garage to check on his BMW before calling Doug.

“I’ve got a girl for you. But I’m warning you -she’s crazy,” he told Doug.

“Niiiice,” Doug said, “You know what they say. Crazy in the head, crazy in bed.”

And so, Andrea was handed off to Doug, who decided that even she was too nuts for him. But Ben’s BMW was never touched.

 

 

Free gifts? Imagine that!

I can’t help it. I read from a grammarian’s perspective.

More than 45 years after I put together nouns and consonants to read the word Donut, I digress almost every time. Knowing what I now know, it should have said Doughnut. After all, those rings began as …. dough.

These days, the phrase Free Gift really bothers me.

I shop for deals just like the next person. I totally get a thrill when my purchase yields a bonus, such as the opportunity to receive something else for nothing or the chance to buy something additional at a discount. In the retail world, those bonuses are known as GWPs (gift with purchase) and PWPs (purchase with purchase).

But free gift?

Since when is a gift not free?

Sure, there are certain people in our lives who expect some return on their gift. And there are those of us who feel like recompense is necessary upon receiving something. But when a retailer offers a free gift, what does it really mean?

For those of us with some marketing background, such ridiculous language is evidence that the retailer thought it best to write their own marketing copy. Or, they went with the lowest-bidding marketing firm. Either way, it was a terrible idea.

I had the misfortune of a tight friendship with an occasional Estée Lauder pitch-woman back in the day. Sure, she was nice and I love her dearly. But damn her for teaching me the GWP and PWP meanings, which haunt me to this day.

Coincidentally, a quick check of the latest Estée Lauder advertisements reveal an apparent lowering of its marketing bar with a high jump onto the free gift bandwagon. Never mind that the company also offers free samples, and free shipping and returns — true retail benefits.

What’s next in the marketing world of vernacular tomfoolery?

Added bonuses? Free trials?

But, wait! If you call within the next 10 minutes of this (randomly broadcast) commercial, you’ll learn that we’ve already bought into such double-edged marketing shenanigans.

If ever we deserve a free gift, it is now. But hurry. Such offers are only available for a limited time.