Ti-pping is NOT a town in China. Denial is not a river in Egypt.

Years ago, I worked for a local upscale hotel. 
If you ever lived in the Peoria area, you'll know what I'm talking about. The big German castle on the not-so-great end of town. 
IYKYK. 
The restaurant there was considered "fine" dining for our little corner of the world. Although, if you are well-traveled-you know it never really was. It was what Peoria deems "fine" But, it was no Michelin joint by any stretch. 
I liked my job at the time. I had a four month old baby, and it was flexible in hours for me. I also made decent money. 
Not a terrible gig, given industry standard. 
I should also mention that, at the time, this hotel was connected to our casino boat. The family that owned the hotel-also had a large stock in the very first riverboat casino in Illinois. Comps and favors were abundant in the building with half of the Chicago elite traveling downstate to gamble-far away from the watching eyes of their suburban spouses. 

So, one particular boring, long, Tuesday night closing shift-my manager taps my shoulder with less than an hour to close, while I was wrapping salad dressings for the cooler as part of my closing side work. 
He tells me that there's a big group of boat VIP's coming in for a late dinner-an eight top of cigar smoking, scotch-swilling-booger sugar sniffing-venture capitalists. Be still my heart. 
I had worked a double and wanted to go home and sleep (more like catnap between crying jags for a bottle) with my little guy. 
But, the night had been slow-and mama had rent to pay. So, I called the sitter and let them know I'd be later, girded my loins for the douchebaggery-and waited on the table-whom I knew before they even poured their drunken, bloated, statures through the door-would keep me there for at least a full hour after closing. 
They ran up an eleven thousand dollar tab. Yep. You read that right-ELEVEN K. 
Three bottles of 1989 Perrier Jouet champagne-at $3000. each. A full bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue at $200. 
Chateau Briand for six, and two whole lobsters for the last two. 
Creme Brulé for desert, and Remy Martin cognac for an ADD. 

I was pretty stoked about the total, even though they ran me. 
These VIP's were advised when they called in that the comp meal did NOT include the gratuity for the maitre'd or the server, and tipping was solely they're responsibility. They were venture capitalists from Chicago-so, I wasn't concerned that the total would be skimped on. 

At the time 15% was the standard. This was 2001. 
The math on that was rent, car note, utilities for a month-and a VERY happy Christmas for a baby boy. 
My calculated tip was $1600. @ 15%. At 20% (because I gave them excellent service) would have been $2200.

They were assholes, as expected. But, I was willing to smile, and nod for the obscene tip coming my way. 

They all cleared out approximately ninety minutes after we closed. I was exhausted and literally, now, on hour twelve of the shift. 
I cleared the table with my manager and grabbed the check folder-which showed the total, and the comp subtracted. The bottom of the ticket read in big, bold, print: gratuity for excellent service- NOT included. 

The folder held exactly one-twenty dollar bill, cigar ashes, and a business card for an investment firm. 

I flipped it around, looked underneath, looked under plates, everywhere. Twenty dollars. 

My next move, legitimately got me fired. 

And as a side note-I did this before I ever saw the movie "Waiting" Waiting wasn't even released for four more years after in 2005. 
I was LIVID. Murderous. Ready to throw these hands. 
I rushed out of the doors, where they were loading back into the shuttle to go back to their poker game at the boat. These drunken fuckboi's. 
I tapped the last man to enter the shuttle before he stepped in-and as luck would have it, he was the main jackwagon. The guy who had invited all of his "poker buddies" to come and eat a huge meal for free with-which the hotel was happy to accommodate. 
He turned to look at me as I thrust the check folder at his piggy-fat-belly. He smiled at me and said-"Is there a problem?" I answered, "Nope. No problem at all. But, you forgot this, I think you must need it more than me, you fucking asshole." 
He took the folder and I turned and walked away. 

I took off my apron and my bow tie, handed it to my manager and said: "See ya when I see ya." 
I knew the guy would call and complain-he had the thousand yard stare of a retro-Karen. 
Douchebag. 

He did. I was fired. And then rehired two months later. 
My manager liked me, what can I say? 

To my point-that tip...meant dreams. It meant thirty days of peace of mind. It meant thirty days of stability and Christmas presents-not on layaway. 
It meant something. 
But to those assholes, a twenty should have been enough for a girl like me. The hired help. 

Tipping is a real thing, and if you can't afford to do it...well, you really shouldn't be dining out. 
But, here's the opposite side to that: tipping culture of the 20's. 
It's completely out of hand. 
I have always fully understood tipping a full service waitstaff for excellent (or maybe sometimes not so excellent service-like-just kinda "okay" service) 
But, if you did nothing but bag me up a couple of tacos, be aware-you likely make above minimum wage for your hourly. 
Sorry, I'm not tipping you-no matter how many times you swivel that credit card machine in my direction and point at the tipping line. You can't coerce or guilt me into tipping you, I'm crunchy- and IDGAF. This is from too many years in the industry myself. Abrasion is my middle name. 

Delivery drivers-I used to be very generous there-because some chain pizza and sammy places are less than generous to the drivers themselves. Not paying for gas, or daily car maintenance...
Nowadays, however-I don't even bother with delivery food. Doordash is a complete racket. And even IF I did, there's legit, no way I'm tipping when I am already being charged up to ten bucks on the delivery "fee" 
Sorry drivers...talk to your bosses or ask for a cut of that ten buck, it's not-a happenin. 

I DO tip baristas. They are non-alcoholic go-go juice bartenders-period. 
I DO tip bartenders. Because duh. 

I'm also not a big fan of the "recommended" percentages on the bottom of the guest checks. OR...the automatic tips for large parties. I hated those when I was waiting tables, and I also tip percentage-wise based on how good the service was. 
Don't tell me what you think I should tip. Nine times out of ten the better servers get the large parties, and I'll tip even higher than your "recommended" or forced percentage. So essentially, you are screwing your server out of a good tip by doing this. I know, not all people KNOW how to tip properly-so it's a safety precaution. But, most waitstaff are willing to roll the dice rather than settle. Ask them. They'll tell you. I know how FOH staff thinks-because I spent so many years being FOH staff. 

I'm also not tipping Uber drivers or cab drivers. Controversial? Yeah, okay. But these Uber drivers-especially the folks who work in big cities-make BANK. And nine times out of ten, they are assholes. They work as independent contractors so they don't really have a lot of "boss" accountability. Sure, they can have low ratings. But if they are busy enough-especially in the larger cities-they can offset the low dogs with enough high to just stay at average. And most people calling Uber are desperate to get somewhere, and they really don't care if the rating is just so-so.

Cabs are gross. Sorry-not sorry. They are dirty, they smell bad, and cabbies drive like morons. I'm not tipping for that. Period. 

Lastly-hair and nails-yes, I tip both. Especially when I'm getting a pedi. If you have ever had the horrible nightmare of seeing my feet-you get it. Any person who makes their living scrubbing feet all day-deserves MANY monies. Period. I don't care if they are talking shit about me to another nail tech when they are massaging my calves-anything they are saying about my feet is probably true, and I feel bad that they have this chore. Just sayin. 
Also, don't piss a hair stylist off. They can fuck up your world. ALWAYS tip them. The power they wield is real, and the tip is like a tribute to the person who holds your self esteem and vanity in their hands. Take MY money. 

So the important lesson of this post is knowing when to tip, knowing HOW to tip, and knowing WHY you are tipping. 

There's been this whole movement in the past ten years of restaurants shutting down tipping and paying a livable wage instead. Good on you, chain restaurants-you should have been doing this all along, if you ask me. And when I had my own little bistro-we did the exact same thing. We paid fifteen bucks an hour to our service staff back in 2012. That was a sweet rate of pay. 
We told customers that tipping was optional. 
The customers loved it. And guess what they did? They tipped anyway! Not on a percentage-just what they thought was fair for the service they encountered. We, in turn, kept those tips-and turned them into bonuses for our staff on months that business was slow-so the servers always made their nut-no matter what. Our servers could budget themselves, could never say: "I don't get paid enough to scrub this floor or clean the bathroom!" They happily did sidework with no push back. And they stayed on the clock and did not call off as often-knowing that even one day out would drastically affect their own bottom line. 
See, I never really understood the whole concept of expecting the customer to supplement the lousy wage the company is paying an employee. When I started waiting tables-my base pay was...yep...this is a real number: $1.35/hour. 
One dollar and some change-PER HOUR. 
That's slave labor...period. 
And then...asking a customer to pay for an entire experience and meal, and THEN after all of that, expecting them to also pay in to make the server's wage so they can pull fifteen percent of their sales average so they aren't taxed on it? 
That, my friends, is horseshit. 
So, I always understood why some customers seemed so embittered about tipping. It's a literal scam. 
Now, when you look at my opening story about the complimentary meal-I wholeheartedly deserved a bite of that pie. But free meals are not generally the case. 

So, because not everyone has caught on to the whole: actually pay your own employees, thing. Here's the deal with tipping. 
As of 2025-standard tipping percent is up to 20% of the bill BEFORE tax. So, you got great service-cool beans. Tip them 20% of the total-but don't tip on the taxed amount. Be fair about it. Unless you want to tip more, in which case-do you, boo-boo. 
I remove a dollar for every major fuck up. Harsh? Hmm...maybe. But, when I say fuck up, I mean...cold food, forgetting food, leaving drinks unfilled, and the big one-the thing that grinds my gears every time-PRE-bussing the table. Don't come up to my table and ask how everything is "tasting" (which also drives me nuts because the speech person in me insists that it's just bad grammar)-and walk away from the table empty-handed. 

Take away empty plates! I will ding you in a heartbeat for this shit. This is poorly trained service staff and pisses me off. 

Don't stiff a server...EVER. Unless the policy is to skip tipping. 
Even IF the service was atrocious, you have no idea what kind of horrors have unfolded in their day. Even if the server is rude. Tip a buck. Don't stoop. Give them something. Remember...some of these people are only making $9.00 an hour-and they HAVE to make at least 20% of their sales in tips, or they are essentially paying the tax man to be at work. So, throw them a bone. 
Also, NEVER base a servers tip on BAD food. They don't cook the shit. Take it up with management or a chef-but don't blame the service staff for something that happened in the kitchen- that is beyond their control. 
Cold food or dried up crunchy food is different. If it's cold-it sat on the line too long away from the heat lamp...that's a service issue. If it's dried out and crunchy...it sat under the heat lamp too long because the server/expo/manager didn't run the food to the table in a timely manner. But this all goes back to the server in blame. It's their table, their responsibility-speak up and tell someone if you can't run your own food-don't let it sit there and die in the window. And if it does, it's your responsibility to explain this to your table and have it re-fired. Yep, the chef is going to be pissed off, but ultimately, you have to stand up and guard your own money. No excuses. Just bitch back and get a better plate of food. No excuses. 
I will dock you big time for dried or cold food. Period. 

If you are a bartender, the rules are similar, but a little altered. 
I will dock you if my drink is heavy. Meaning, don't overpour me because you think you will get a bigger tip for it. 
You won't. I'll send it back and tell you to make it right and decrease your tip by one dollar. 
Use the jigger if you are new. Give me the proper amount of alcohol. Not to heavy, not too light. Just call me baby bear. 
If the drink is just made wrong. I'll send it back and tip you less. 
If you ignore me-you'll get the very bare minimum. 
Here's why...Just DON'T. 
Even if you are three deep and in the weeds, acknowledge me at least. You do that, you are golden. 
If I see you lingering on the cute guy/girl and there are four empty mugs in front of your patrons...I'm dinging you. 
That's a no-brainer. 
Score a hoochie-daddy or mommy on your own time, don't ignore your bar. Do your job. 
Tip for EVERY drink you buy, or the total on the tab before tax. Don't tip for the first drink and then never again. Bartenders automatically HATE you if you do this. 

Lastly-don't write messages on checks-giving your "stance" on tipping and stiffing the waitstaff. Fuck you. Don't do that. 
No one cares how you feel. The server is just doing their job. 
Eat at home if you feel so strongly about it, and lose the red hat while you are at it. IYKYK. 

And really that's about it. 

The base rule of thumb for me (and which is what my mother AND father pounded into my skull) has always been: Tipping is EARNED, and not expected. 

You get a tip for earning a tip, and not just because you stood there and wrapped a burger for me, or put a shirt in a bag with a smile. 

I feel like the entitlement is far reaching, and goes way beyond what you think you deserve. 

I tip when you earn it, and tip well when you go above and beyond. And that's how it should be...no if's, and's, or can I have extra lemons for my water-but's. 

Cow tipping is a better science if you ask me, but I love cows, especially baby ones...so don't do that. I'm mean, but not cruel. 

Last thought: 
"Tipping change is bad luck, people. If you can't round your generosity up to an entire dollar, then just embrace your cheapness. Don't try to pay off your guilty conscience with a quarter," 
-Jacob Tomsky
Heads in Beds: A Reckless Memoir of hotels, hustles, and the so-called hospitality industry.

Errr'body in da clurb gettin tipsy, 
T

PS...if you want to know more about the industry in a funny and entertaining way, look up Drew Talbert or "Bistro Huddy" on Youtube or TikTok. 
He's the most accurate, behind the scenes, tell all about the industry as a whole since the aforementioned Waiting movie.