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Almost every morning before I go to work, I stop off at my local bagel shop and get a plain bagel with butter. That kind of repetition tends to lead to relationships being formed. I mean, you can't see the same guy every morning and not start to talk to him. My bagel guy is named John. Or Jon. But that really doesn't matter in terms of this story. He is a pretty cool guy. I think he owns the shop now. I first started talking to him about a year and a half ago. Back then, I'm pretty sure that this other older, grizzled guy owned the shop. Then one spring day, my bagel shop was closed. For good. With a big "For Sale" sign in the window. But thankfully, towards the end of that summer, it reopened. I went in and there was John behind the counter, the same place he was at three months ago. The store was decorated a little differently and I would frequently see a woman working in the back who I later found out to be John's wife. So a small businessman makes good and rescues the local bagel shop. And again, none of this has anything to do with the point of this story.
Last Friday, John told me he was going on vacation. "Finally" he said. But, he said, the store would still be open. So when I go in to get my bagel on Monday morning, there were two college age kids behind the counter, one male and one female. The guy was mainly in the back, actually making the bagels. The girl was running the counter and register. She was cute, in a kind of college field hockey player kind of way. A bit stocky with short black hair up in a bandanna and an attitude that says, "I'm only up this early in the morning because I need the money". Kind of a tough girl but still girly enough to match her bandanna to her shirt (a light blue). And again on Tuesday (a lighter blue, but still a match). And today (orange, if you still care). But something was different today.
There, sitting on the counter near the register, was a large styrofoam coffee cup with the word "TIPS" scrawled across it in blue ball point pen. And the writing was that type that doesn't usually write on styrofoam because she punctured the cup a number of times while writing those four letters. And there were a couple of single dollar bills in the cup. I hate the "tip" cup. Not just in the bagel shop, but where ever I encounter it. It just irks me for some reason. It smacks of both a desperation for money and a strong-arm peer pressure tactic.
But, more than that, I wonder what she was thinking. Most of the traffic in this place is made up of regulars. There hasn't ever been a "tip" cup out on the counter of that place. And three days after she starts working there, her styrofoam hand is out asking for a gratuity for her efforts in slicing open a bagel and slopping on some butter. I wonder if John would care. If I were in his place I would be upset. I'm a customer service guy. The service should be there in a place like that without having the unspoken question of a tip hanging over the customer's head and wallet.
When appropriate, I tip. I'm a pretty good tipper actually. In a restaurant, I always round towards 25% and way from %15. My basic technique is to take 10% percent of the bill (which is easy to figure) double it, round up to the nearest dollar and then add a little bit more. But the key phrase here is "when appropriate". Car wash dryer dudes, hair "stylists", parking attendants, cab drivers are all tipped by me. But this trend of some of these small shop employees butting out the "tip" cup just bothers me. I mean, if it were a situation where tipping were appropriate, then there wouldn't be any need to have a jar would there? It would just happen.
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