"tipping" news and stories

Although every shred of evidence underscores the contrary, there are still diners who insist the word "tips" is an acronym for "to insure prompt service." Such revisionist etymology got me wondering: Are there gratuity-dodgers who believe "tips" stands for "to introduce people to salvation"?

Because, really, what else would compel a restaurant goer to tuck a gospel tract into a check presenter? Folks who haven't worked in the service industry are always startled to learn how frequently servers' hard work earns them a pamphlet about heaven and hell instead of a cash tip. The practice is so widespread that tract publishers have even devised literature that looks like a dollar bill, allowing diners to fool and cheat their waitresses in one fell swoop.

To be clear, I have no problem with my customers unobtrusively spreading the gospel. I wish more diners would include printed material with their tips; I'd love to amass a collection of poems and news clippings my customers considered noteworthy. But the critical phrase here is "with their tips." What's infuriating about the gospel-tract habit is that the tracts are rarely accompanied by money.

Tipping may be contentious, but it's generally not too complicated. Most diners today are in the habit of adding at least 15 percent to their bills for the luxury of not having to pour their own drinks, fetch their food from the kitchen or clear their table at the end of their meal.

But even practiced tippers continue to struggle with what may very well be the most complex tipping quandary for restaurant-goers: Should one tip on takeout?

Here's why the problem's so advanced: It forces the customer to evaluate what's happening behind the scenes, a tricky proposition even for seasoned industry insiders. Since no server is going to bore you with the details of how your order was taken, placed, boxed and bagged, it's up to you to figure out whether anything tip-worthy transpired.

Tip-haters will be delighted to know I don't think there's generally anything wrong with skipping the tip on a to-go order. My fellow servers and I expect to be tipped on things like knowing the menu, anticipating diners' needs and keeping the dining room spotless – all of which are irrelevant in a take-out situation. While I'm quite sure there isn't a server anywhere who'd turn down a tip, few servers plan to get rich handing bags to customers.

Restaurants are running out of money, which means more of them are trying to lure in new customers with coupons. Even the ritziest eateries are starting to run clippable promos in newspaper circulars, promising free appetizers or two-for-one entrées to any penny-pincher with the sense to cash in on the restaurant's miserable financial fortunes.

I have no beef with coupons, and hope they work to resuscitate some of the restaurants that seem in serious danger of shuttering due to the recession. But, for whatever reason, coupon users tend to be among the most impolite diners. Here then, a guide to using coupons – without making an enemy of your server (which, as outlined in previous columns, is never a wise thing to do).

• Don't create a little coupon shrine on your table. Many coupon-carriers, terrified their server might accidentally charge them full price, make a point of prominently positioning their coupon as soon as they're seated. I've seen coupons folded and set on the edge of the table, propped up by the salt and pepper shakers and balanced on candle holders. All that conveys is cheapness, which is what all servers dread. Try your best to keep your coupon enthusiasm in check.

Photo: Joe Shlabotnik, Flickr.

For workers who are paid to interact with customers, servers spend an inordinate amount of time on the floor. It's nearly impossible to get through a shift without having to stoop to sweep up cupfuls of Cheerios up-ended by a fidgety toddler, table scraps discarded by loutish diners who apparently take their etiquette cues from William Hogarth paintings or -- most frequently -- puddles of pennies.

I've worked in greasy spoons where hot dogs sold for 85 cents and coin transactions were the norm; I hardly expect a customer to charge a quarter cup of coffee. But in nicer restaurants, where servers don't bark orders across the room and salads don't arrive to the table encased in plastic wrap, coins are nothing but trouble -- any server who's picked up a check presenter and immediately showered their feet with the coins tucked inside it knows exactly what I mean.

Some of the blame clearly lies with the coin-fearing credit-card companies that issue said presenters, designed to accommodate only plastic. But there's really no reason for most restaurant customers to use change in the first place. What's the harm in leaving $72 when the bill's $71.88? Can a server not be trusted for a moment with an extra 12 cents?

I find coins so messy that I typically ignore them, even if it means I end up shouldering a portion of a table's bill. If a guest gives me three twenties to cover a $58.43 bill, I'll return $2 – knowing most guests will leave me both singles. While some of my fellow servers are far more punctilious, I still haven't figured out a good way to sort coins in my apron or rationalize the dead weight of a few rolls of dimes.

Photo: stopnlook, flickr

Many of you honestly believe restaurant servers have a cushy job that requires them to do little more than deliver food to a table and collect $180 an hour for their trouble. Fine. I'd like to call a temporary truce in the great "Are waitresses worth their keep?" debate and focus on another front-of-the-house staffer this week: The hostess.

Like most servers, I've been pressed into host duty when an employee hasn't shown up (or showed up too hungover to accurately monitor the seating chart -- hostesses are almost always the youngest, most inexperienced and least committed members of a restaurant's crew.) Hostesses have it hard.

Hostesses have to deal with customers at their hungriest, thirstiest, worst. It's not uncommon for customers who feel they haven't been seated quickly enough to hurl insults at the hostess or subject her to stem-winding rants about the crooked nature of the restaurant industry.

But here's what patrons never, ever do: In my experience manning the host stands at restaurants so ritzy that my job description included turning away male guests without jackets and in eateries so casual that "please wait to be seated" signs were dismissed as snobbish affectations, nobody once offered me a bribe.