To Insure Promptitude

Gratuities have been around for 500 years. But why would one give away money when one doesn’t have to? In the Middle Ages, “tipping had originated in Europe as ‘noblesse oblige’, a practice among aristocrats to show favor to servants” and morphed at its worst into “the only source of income for Black workers” after the Civil War in the U.S.⁽²⁾ At best, it was a way to level the playing field somewhat for any workers who were paid at a reduced rate. A pay gap continues to exist today in the U.S., where the minimum wage for tipped workers is only US$2.13 per hour, and the tipping culture is deep and wide, especially in sectors like the restaurant industry.⁽³⁾ Oddly, Canadians are perfectly happy to tip servers in restaurants an average of 17.6%, even though such workers receive the same minimum wage as other workers.⁽⁴⁾ Over the centuries, though, the practice of offering gratuities broadened from a form of income “leveler” into a bonus for particularly good or efficient service. Urban legend has it that the expression “tip” comes from the acronym “To Insure Promptitude” (or something like that).

But what constitutes service? “To participate in a society is to constantly accept or provide acts of assistance – doors held, directions given, spots saved, printers unjammed. It would be ridiculous to tip the subway seat giver-upper. The tip is meant for work, particularly personal work.” ⁽⁵⁾

However, it’s easy to feel a bit indignant when someone who provides limited or no service seems to expect a tip. Recent anecdotes are outrageous, including tip options at an impound lot in Seattle and a mortgage company in Pennsylvania.⁽⁶⁾ “Tip prompts have been spotted recently at a Boy Scout popcorn sale, Sonic Drive-Ins, a UPS Store, the self-checkout kiosks at Newark International Airport, the travel Web site Hopper, and a minibar in a Fairmont Hotel, in Canada.”⁽⁷⁾ To wit, note the language used in a request I just received for paying a storage locker fee online:

The key word here is “business”. That doesn’t sound personal to me.

Gone are the subtle days of old. The once grateful handwritten note on the receipt, or slipping a bill into the hand of a maître d’ have evolved into the “iPad pirouette”, when the cashier swivels the point-of-sale screen around to the patron to complete payment. Usually the cashier has the opportunity (and hopefully grace) to avert their eyes. But in some cases, there is no avoiding the awkwardness.

“Recently, I got in a cab whose screen was in accessibility mode. When it came time to pay, I was presented with a big plus sign and a big minus sign.
“Tip is set to zero,” a loud voice said. I hit the plus. “Your tip is now five per cent,” it said.
I punched it again. Plus, minus, plus, plus.

“Your tip is now ten per cent. Your tip is now five per cent. Your tip is now . . .”

“Can you hear this?” I asked the cabbie.

“Yeah,” he said. I tipped thirty per cent.⁽⁸⁾

Tip Inflation

On that note, how much should we be tipping? It has been quite some time since 15% was considered a good tip. The bar rose to 20% in the ’90s, 22-25% in the 2000s, and now it’s not unusual to see 30% as an option. This escalation has been described as tipflation. Add this to recent price inflation and consumers are getting wearier by the day.

There are some sounding a note of caution to the service industry, however. University of Toronto’s Rotman School of Management professor David Soberman warns, “If you push this too far, you’re going to end up biting the hand which feeds you. And I think there’s a significant fraction of people now who are simply going to less [sic] restaurants, not just because of inflation, but because they don’t actually like the tip culture.”⁽⁹⁾

Pandemic

During the pandemic, it was the easiest decision ever to tip someone in an essential service role – a delivery person or server, for example. And given the economic hardship and physical risk people in those roles were facing, tips were often large relative to the service or value of the bill. In analyzing tipping during the pandemic, Lizzie Post, Emily’s great-great-granddaughter and co-president at the Emily Post Institute told Town & Country magazine, “Tipping really didn’t change that much, we just did a lot of encouraging to tip more.”⁽¹⁰⁾

But now, post-COVID, tipping feels different. The old ways are still valid: maybe you don’t tip the Amazon delivery person, but you tip the pizza delivery guy. Tipping at a sit-down restaurant is still standard. It’s when we are asked to tip for previously non-tipped services, such as fast food, online orders, or the aforementioned impound lot (I still can’t get over that one), that we’re a bit deer-in-headlights.

You can easily neglect a tip jar, but you need to make a conscious decision to hit the No Tip button on a Point of Sale machine, and that’s not as easy. Nor is it comfortable choosing the “Custom” option when you want to give 10%, but the lowest option shown is 18%. Someone admitted to me recently that she “feels badly” not tipping when the option is there (in her case it was at a self-checkout grab-and-go food counter). To me, it’s a matter of doing what feels right. Tipping is essentially giving away your money, and there are few people to whom money means nothing. So, if you have neither that thank you, nor sorry impulse, then perhaps gritting your teeth and hitting the “No Tip” button is the answer. The quintessential source on etiquette, the Post family, offers additional perspective. Lizzie Post believes that customers “really fear that moment of being judged by the people behind them and the person at the counter.” Post-pandemic, she adds, “We’re a little more anxious being out in the social world again. We feel a lot of, ‘oh I should always give more’ and we’re always told we should give more if we have more. There’s a lot of guilt and pressure that gets put into it.”⁽¹¹⁾

Despite the historic and valiant efforts of the Anti-Tipping Society of America, the Nationwide Operation to Instill Pride (NOTIP), and – my personal favourite, if only for its name – the Anti-Gimme League, North American tipping culture remains ingrained in our society. So, we should individually update our own tipping philosophy and stand by it, regardless of who may be watching and judging.

“Consumers shouldn’t feel embarrassed about choosing the lowest suggested tip amount, and don’t have to explain themselves if they don’t tip.” – Emily Post’s Etiquette⁽¹²⁾

Where to from here?

Tip fatigue is real, and this leaves us wondering what the future holds for this historical cultural norm. One thing is certain: it’s not going away anytime soon. Yes, suggestions have been made to include a set tip in the bill, or just flat-out prohibit tipping, but that will be a hard sell in North America. (One reasonable tip (haha) I picked up is to come prepared with various denominations of cash, and hit that No Tip button, telling your server you’ll be tipping separately. This buys you time and relieves you of at least some of those societal pressures.)

As technology has advanced, we have learned some lessons from past experiences. Email users have learned over time that it’s not rude to ignore junk email requests for money, even if they’re personally addressed and/or pulling at your heartstrings. Although the iPad swivel isn’t quite as overt, the concept of using technology as a slick means to encourage you to give away your money is similar in spirit.

So remember, it’s often just a screen asking you – not a human whose feelings are about to be hurt. And those screens are now everywhere. Trying to read a small-print bill in a dark restaurant and taking the time to do the mental math to figure out the tip conjures up the adage, “sometimes the hardest things in life, are the things most worth doing”.⁽¹³⁾ Just because it’s easy doesn’t make it right.