July 6: Gratuity Not Included

It sits on the counter quietly as I wait in line. It stares at me as I walk forward and give my order. Silently, it screams at me and makes a scene. I'm the only one that can hear its calls. The girl behind the counter knows it's there as she spreads mayonnaise on my sandwich. She smiles to herself because she is aware of the internal struggle I'm having. The short, stout monster sits with its mouth open and waits for me to pay for my lunch. It begs. It pleads. It heckles and taunts.

Is there anything more (for lack of a better word) offensive than an empty pickle jug sitting next to a cash register? The jars/boxes/jugs are always covered with a piece of paper with the word Tips boldly written in black marker. Occasionally the sign will also include a colorful smiley face or some gold stars, but the message is always the same: Give me more money for a job that I'm already being paid to perform.

As an employee that makes his wages off of the graciousness of patrons, one might think my stance on the tip jar would be different. What you may or may not know though, is that I get paid $2.13 an hour without my tips. I'm counting on a guest to leave a tip. I pay my bills on those tips. The tip jar, however, is set up by an employee that is already making at least (and sometimes more) minimum wage.

Minimum wage isn't a lot of money, but that's the salary agreed to work for when hired. During the interview, I doubt the employer said, "You'll be making X amount of dollars an hour plus tips collected in a dirty, banged up jug. Feel free to decorate that jug to your liking."

I feel uncomfortable when sitting at a red light while a vagabond holds a cardboard sign that reads, "Will work for food." I don't like being approached by the homeless for money either. I get the same feeling when I'm paying for a sandwich and I see the tip jar sitting on the counter. I'm paying for the sandwich; not the service. I still have to pour my own drink and get my refills. I still have to throw away my trash. If I wanted service, I would go to a restaurant and have the sandwich served to me. Am I supposed to tip you for preparing my sandwich? Why don't I tip the cooks in a restaurant then?

Where do the tips stop? Do I tip the guy that comes out and replaces my windshield? I think you're supposed to tip your mailman and newspaper delivery guy every Christmas, but no one tips their mechanic. We tip our hair cutters and our masseuses, but why don't we tip our grocers and our doctors? In "The Robbery" episode of Seinfeld Jerry asks, "What do you tip a wood guy?" in reference to a wood delivery service. He then asks if he has to tip a gardener.

The line is definitely blurry. Who do you tip? Who don't you tip? I think it should be left up to the customer. Everyone knows you tip a waiter; that's a given. Everyone else is paid a salary. Putting a filthy jug on a counter where you pay for your sandwich is too much. If you don't tip, you're a cheap jerk. You're never thanked for your contributions so why bother? My solution: don't insult the guest with the jar in the first place. Get rid of it.