Freed: A visit to France is a cure for tipaphobia

Montreal Gazette

17-05-2025

Quebec has just passed a major tipping point in tax policy: no more tipping allowed on restaurant meal taxes.
From now on, when you see a 15, 20 or 50 per cent tip option, it will only be on your food bill, not the GST and QST too, something that has caused many people taxation vexation.
So congrats: you'll now save $1.80 on a $100 bill when you tip 15 per cent.
In the words of Quebec Justice Minister Jolin-Barrette addressing this historic moment: 'We shouldn't have to feel pressure when we're paying the bill.'
But in fact tips on tax-added totals are just a tiny part of the growing psychological pressure we all feel from tipping.
I've just returned from a boys' bike trip in France where I realized we Canadians are in a tipping pressure cooker compared to the French and most Europeans.
In France, when your restaurant bill appears on the credit card machine, there are never any tip options to choose among. No 15 per cent, no 20, 30 or whatever crazy number they throw at you for fun.
Just your bill, so you can tap your card and leave without thinking.
If you like the service, you can leave something on the table, generally five or 10 euros. Yet the servers are usually remarkably thankful, offering many 'merci's for your gesture.
It's astonishing how stress-free this proves to be, especially given 'tip creep' in North America, where tipping anxiety is practically an official new neurosis — tipaphobia.
It's understandable. You roam about a dépanneur serving yourself, then hand the cashier a large carton of beer. He zaps the price in a half-second, then hands you a machine with three suggested tips that would cost you from $6 to $9.
In essence, you're tipping him for asking for a tip.
Similarly, last week I lined up at a bakery for three chocolate chip cookies, then lined up to pay after the server shouted my name incorrectly.
But I was faced with the usual 18 to 25 per cent tip options. I fumbled around with the 'custom tip' button, then guiltily pressed 'no tip' while the server stared at me like a judge at a thief.
Meanwhile tips are increasingly requested at drive-thru restaurants, self-serve gas stations and supermarket self-checkouts, where you've scanned and bagged your own groceries, working diligently as a cashier.
But now the machine wants a tip, presumably in a robotic voice that says: 'Please place item on tray along with tip. Twenty per cent would be appreciated. I need surgery, for an operating system update.'
Expect car salesmen to follow, requesting 20 per cent tips on a $35,000 new vehicle. Then ATMs that say: 'Thanks for choosing to access your funds. Please show your appreciation for this transaction by selecting a tip option.'
Once robo-tips become common, my fridge will want a tip for storing my food at the right temperature, while elevators will announce: 'Enjoyed your vertical transportation experience? Consider tipping either 15, 20 or 25 per cent. Otherwise, next time take the stairs.'
The real hassles for now are the endless tiny decisions we must make every time we pay, as we ponder the never-ending tip choices facing us.
I'm happy to tip waiters well because I worked as one during college and know they work hard for low salaries. But now the machines also harass us to tip everyone from the butcher and baker to the espresso maker — and each occasion requires thought.
Did the barista make a tip-worthy latte? Did the cashier serve my baguette with élan? Should I tip more on takeout when I spend more? How much more?
All this has a psychological cost, and I didn't know it till my France visit, where the absence of these decisions felt like a mental holiday.
French tipping practices are similar in Spain, Italy and much of Europe where waiters are paid properly and a two-euro tip on the table is more than appreciated.
But we can't do that here where waiters are (legally) paid less than minimum wage and depend on tips for a living.
Quebec's minimum wage is $16.10 but for waiters it's only $12.90, so customers must top up their salaries. Some restaurants here have tried including tips in their prices, but customers rebel.
We may say we want the tip included, but when restaurateurs build it into the price as in Europe, we complain. We'd rather choose the tip ourselves, so we can grumble afterward.
Adding to the problem is that we used to have tip jars, where we tossed some change at a fast food stand, but who has change anymore?
Instead, there's a counter-revolution happening with customers everywhere tipping less, or refusing everywhere but restaurants.
We obviously need a tipping rebellion. Just before the American Revolution, Bostonians dumped tea into their harbour, to protest taxation.
Maybe it's time we all gathered at the St. Lawrence and threw the newfangled, tip-hungry card machines into the river, shouting 'Give us liberty from tippery, or give us death!'
Life is stressful enough, without facing three choices every time you buy a carrot muffin.