In a bar I used to frequent, my favorite surly bartender brought me a beverage and refused my cash. I told him that I appreciated the gesture but didn’t want to take advantage.
“You tip $1 per beer,” he said. “I’m going to buy you one from time to time.” My tasty beverage varies in price from place to place but my tip is always the same. One dollar represents a tip of between 28 percent and 33 percent, and you get that for handing me the beer.
There is a growing kerfuffle about proper compensation for service personnel. Servers and their supporters (including me) want people to tip generously, since gratuities serve to augment a meager hourly wage. Now, we are long past the age when the point of tipping was to reward outstanding service. My online dictionary defines “gratuity” as “money given in return for some service or favor,” and my Oxford English Dictionary defines it as “a gift (usu. of money) of an amount decided by the giver.”
About twenty years ago, as a party to a pool-playing team, I walked into a bar whose patrons did not welcome me. The members of my team had a tradition of buying “rounds,” and when it was my turn, I walked to the bar and was ignored by the bartender. In proper Greensboro lunch-counter mode, I stood quietly, patiently waiting for service. I got it, but my teammates were astonished that it had taken so long, since the bar was nearly empty.
Last week, I walked into a bar, made eye contact with the bartender, and stood, quietly watching her as she arranged napkins, moved glasses and wiped the counter near her. When she finally turned to ask if I needed something — not obvious by my presence at the bar — I ordered and tipped, as I am wont to do. When I told that story to my son, he said, “That’s because they (bartenders) don’t think you will tip.” And that’s the elephant in this room. My youngest daughter is a server, and she has internalized the belief that people within a certain demographic will not tip. But I am proud of this quality in her, which I have witnessed: no matter what she believes, her service to everyone will be cheerful and efficient.
I have seen all manner of server shenanigans and I still tip. I told one young server who asked me if I “wanted the change,” that she had cheated herself by being sly. I told another server who forgot to bring my tasty beverage that a 33 percent tip does not demand fealty, but is worthy of recognition. And though I am not a big spender — you cannot live on revenue generated by my spending — I am undemanding. You need not drop what you’re doing to “beer” me.
I occasionally frequent places that are not primarily bars (gasp!), but wherever there is an expectation of a gratuity, I meet it. When Greg cuts my hair, I tip him. When I am smilingly served and insulted by my favorite waitress at Goody’s, I tip. When the server at Jockamo’s remembers the pizza I had on my last visit, I tip. And when Nancy — with the laughing face — greets me with “Happy Wednesday,” and my favorite tasty beverage, I tip her.
For servers who have paid attention, my presence in an establishment does nothing to depress an expectation of a gratuity; if your stereotypes override your observations, it may. But whenever I reach the tipping point, I always think of servers such as my daughter and Nancy (with the laughing face) whose gracious service extends to all.