The United States, historically a land of opportunity and gun violence, has finally discovered its true national treasure: the art of demanding extra money for doing the absolute bare minimum. A new report from the Atlantic Council for the Prevention of Common Sense has revealed that US tipping culture has spiralled so far out of control that fast-food cashiers now expect 30% for reading the menu back to you. British tourists, already reeling from the shock of paying for healthcare, are now being advised to take out a second mortgage just to buy a bagel.
I have seen many absurdities in my gin-soaked tenure as a journalist. I have watched politicians lie with the ease of a toddler denying they’ve drawn on the walls. I have witnessed the invention of cronuts. But nothing, nothing compares to the sheer audacity of a person who has done nothing but hand you a lukewarm coffee demanding you pay their rent. The numbers are in, and they are terrifying. A study conducted by the Institute of “Just Give Us Your Money” found that over 70% of Americans now believe tipping is mandatory for all services, including but not limited to: breathing the same air as a shop assistant, making eye contact with a taxi driver, and existing within a 50-metre radius of a hotel concierge.
The British traveller, a creature accustomed to a world where a polite nod suffices for service, is now hopelessly adrift. I spoke to one such tourist, Gerald from Tunbridge Wells, who was charged an 18% “suggestion fee” for asking a waiter the time. “I was just wondering what hour it was,” he told me, his voice cracking like a biscuit in tea. “The fellow pointed at a clock on the wall and then handed me a card reader. I paid it. I don’t know what came over me.” This is the state of the Empire’s descendants: cowering before iPads with pre-selected tip options starting at 20%.
But we must be fair. This is not entirely the fault of the American service industry. They have been conditioned by a nation that believes socialism is a dirty word but that paying 25% extra for a pizza that was delivered 40 minutes late is a sacred duty. The real villains are the software programmers. Every Square terminal, every iPad cash register, is designed to induce guilt. They show you the suggested tips with the psychological force of a hostage negotiator. “Would you like to leave no tip?” the screen asks, accusingly. “Are you the sort of monster who would let a barista’s child go hungry?”
I have a solution, and it involves gin. I propose a universal tipping tax of 5% on all transactions, collected by a central authority, and then redistributed to anyone who has ever worked a service job. This would eliminate the awkward dance of the card reader. But until that glorious day, British tourists must arm themselves. Carry a travel-sized abacus. Learn to shout “Service charge included?” with the vehemence of a rugby player. And if all else fails, simply stay at home. The scones are cheaper anyway.
