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Tipping culture is out of control. Fight back with this guide.
Tipping culture is out of control. Fight back with this guide.

Yahoo

time8 hours ago

  • Business
  • Yahoo

Tipping culture is out of control. Fight back with this guide.

Food "tipping" has become an absolute circus, and I've had enough. The practice should be a straightforward way to reward exceptional service. Now, it's a guilt-ridden tap-dance where a rogue iPad demands a 25% premium for a slack-jawed teen handing you a muffin. The social contract has been shredded, and we're all left fumbling with our wallets while the person behind us in line judges our generosity for a transaction that once went untipped. Tipping has become a source of national anxiety, a phenomenon known as "tipflation," and frankly, it's exhausting. If we don't draw some clear lines in the sand, we'll soon be tipping the self-checkout machine at the grocery. Today, we draw those lines and free well-intentioned consciences across America. The venerable Emily Post Institute, the longtime arbiter of American etiquette, offers guidelines applied in a world that no longer exists – or at least, one that didn't anticipate being asked to tip on a pre-packaged sandwich you grab yourself. In the spirit of restoring some sanity, allow me to propose ten reality-adjusted food tipping rules for 2025. 1. The Full-Service Sit-Down (18-22%) This is where tipping tradition holds strong, and rightly so. If you're at a restaurant where a waiter or waitress takes your order, diligently attends to your table, and refills your drinks without you having to send up a flare, tip well. I will never forget Carlos's excellent service at Arzu in Roanoke, Virginia, when I attended Washington and Lee University. He treated a couple of college kids like royalty, and my wife and I remember those dates fondly. I didn't have much money, but I tipped him like I did. Professionals who navigate multiple tables, remember the nuanced details of your order, and make you feel special earn every penny of that tip. 2. The Counter Offensive (0%) Most dining experiences these days stand in stark contrast to the classic waited table. If you order at a counter, pick up your food from someone hollering a number, fill your own drink, and bus your own table – congratulations, you've just provided your own service. Tip yourself accordingly. The establishment is selling you a product. Asking for a 20-30% tip via a swiveling screen for this "privilege" is an affront to human dignity. The practice is a wage subsidy properly built into the price. If businesses can't charge that price, the food isn't good enough. More: 10 best Nashville restaurants we wish made USA TODAY's Restaurants of the Year list 3. The Hybrid Hustle (5-10%) We should also be honest when establishments fall somewhere between waited tables and self-serve: Order at Counter, Food Delivered, Tables Bussed by Staff (10%): You've placed your own order, but someone is bringing food to your table and cleaning up afterwards. That's a service apart from what you'd get at home. They're doing part of the traditional waiter's job, so they should earn part of the tip. Order at Counter, Pick Up Food Yourself, Tables Bussed by Staff (5%): You're still doing most of the legwork, but at least you don't have to clear your own dishes. If the staff keeps the dining area and your table clean, a modest 5% tip is a fair acknowledgement. 4. The Buffet Brigade (10%) At a buffet, you're largely self-sufficient in the food acquisition department. However, if someone is diligently refilling your iced tea, bringing extra napkins, and clearing the leaning tower of used plates, they deserve a tip. Ten percent is a good benchmark for this attentiveness. If you never see a soul after the initial drink order, don't feel bad adjusting the tip accordingly. 5. Coffee, Cocktails, and Courtesy ($1 minimum per drink, double it for effort) Coffee, Beer, Wine, Liquor on the Rocks: A dollar per drink is a solid minimum, especially if it's a straightforward pour or a quick brew. Mixology, Barista Art: If your bartender is whipping up a concoction with tequila, tarantula leg, smoke, and a story, she might be a witch. On the other hand, she might be a truly gifted professional. The coffee barista doesn't have to craft a swan in your latte foam. Skill deserves a double reward…unless she puts a hex on you. Respect the Minimum: Throwing coins, digital or otherwise, at staff just feels cheap and unappreciative. Don't do it. Yes, I know the percentages may be higher. Thankfully, I'm writing the rules. 6. Take Care of Your People This one's crucial. If you're on a first-name basis with the barista who knows your complicated coffee order by heart, the waiter who remembers your favorite table, or the bartender who starts your usual when you walk in – tip them well. Consistently. These are your people. They make your daily routines or weekly outings better. Fostering that relationship is worth every extra dollar. More: East Nashville favorite named among Southern Living's 20 Best New Restaurants in the South 7. Cash Remains King While cards are convenient, cash tips avoid credit card processing fees or complex tip-pooling arrangements where the distribution can be murky. Cash itself is a tangible sign of appreciation. 8. Delivery Days ($5 minimum with uplifts) This one is a little more complicated because the interaction with a delivery driver is usually brief. Drivers from third parties like DoorDash and GrubHub usually aren't responsible for accuracy of the order or the quality of the food. Use some common sense here. If you don't want to get out in the weather, tip more. If your order isn't smashed or spilled, tip more. My suggestion is to tip the minimum and then supplement with cash when the order arrives. The notable caveat these days is that your generous front-end tip may ensure that your order is picked up quickly and at your front door. If you're eating in your sweatpants, splurge for the extra convenience and call it a win. More: The top 25 restaurants in Nashville in 2024 9. No SALT Don't tip on State and Local Taxes (SALT). The government is literally charging you to eat. You should not pay someone else a percentage of that amount. For that matter, it's weird for the government to do that in the first place. Maybe we should become the great Americans we were meant to be and refuse to tax food and beverages so we can tip helpful people instead of the government. 10. Lemonade Stand (100%+) On the rare occasion that you see children out with a lemonade stand, bake sale, or other offering, the minimum tip is 100%. Not only should you seek out these opportunities, but our generosity shapes the future workforce. Always incentivize work. I ran around my neighborhood as a kid with a wagon, selling tomatoes I grew. My gracious neighbors tipped me unbelievably. I'd come home with a wad of cash and an empty wagon time and again. Those tips primed the pump for my entire professional life. Be generous and incentivize great service. Reward hustle, especially in younger people who are just starting out. Fight the culinary pressure culture that says people are entitled to tips and don't need to earn them. Let's reclaim some common sense in 2025. Our blood pressure (and our wallets) will thank us. USA TODAY Network Tennessee Columnist Cameron Smith is a Memphis-born, Brentwood-raised recovering political attorney raising four boys in Nolensville, Tennessee, with his particularly patient wife, Justine. Direct outrage or agreement to or @DCameronSmith on Twitter. Agree or disagree? Send a letter to the editor to letters@ This article originally appeared on Nashville Tennessean: Sick of tipping culture? This is the only guide you'll need. | Opinion

Eating the World
Eating the World

Epoch Times

time01-05-2025

  • General
  • Epoch Times

Eating the World

'No forks.' The server at the famous barbecue pit gave me a stern staredown in response to my simple request. 'Knives and spoons only,' Esther added at the checkout counter at Kreuz Barbecue in Lockhart, Texas. 'Do you want a pickle?' Chastened, I nodded gratefully for a dill the size of King Kong's toe, and carried my paper picnic platter over to the long brown Formica table beneath the 12-foot rattlesnake skin on the century-old brick wall. My plate was piled high with beef shoulder that had been smoked for eight hours, plus two pieces of doughy white Bimbo bread and the aforementioned bar-jar pickle. A quintessential central Texas midday meal. How do you eat this legendary repast? Pile the sliced meat chunks on the bread, spoon on barbecue sauce if you want, and pretend you're at a high school rodeo. It's not white-linen dining. Interlopers who ask about the fork prohibition are informed about the meaty weight of tradition. Related Stories 8/23/2024 6/28/2021 'Just how it's done.' In other words, there's no discrete, sophisticated reason to deny customers forks. It just … is. Around the world, from the Hill Country of Texas to the high plateaus of Africa to the sultry cities of Asia, dining customs vary far beyond the Emily Post parameters Americans know. Sometimes they're rooted in cultural traditions that make sense, or used to: The Jewish and Islamic avoidance of pork recognizes the very real dangers of trichinosis. The Jewish prohibition against consuming meat and dairy in the same dish comes from an Old Testament verse, which apparently forbids an ancient Canaanite fertility practice. Sometimes these customs seem random, but adhere to hidden culinary principles: In much of Europe, the salad course comes after the entrée, not before. Soup, appetizers, and bread precede the main dish. Salad precedes dessert. It's considered a palate cleanser, though how a plate of bitter greens with olive oil and vinegar cleanses taste buds, I'm unsure. Or, no cutlery whatsoever: No forks, spoons, knives, nada. In Ethiopia's remote, exotic mountain city of Harar—the legendary birthplace of coffee consumption—in the hillside town market, a tureen of braised camel flank comes with no cutlery at all. You just ladle the food onto pieces of injera, the Ethiopian bread that resembles a Spandex tortilla, and chow down. Yes, using your hands. I ask my guide about silverware, and he shrugs. 'The bread's good, yes? The meat?' I nod enthusiastically, because it's true and because scorning tradition is impolite in many ways, in many places. Just ask Erik Wolf, founder and president of the World Food Travel Association (WFTA) of Portland, Oregon. WFTA promotes food tourism and encourages travelers to embrace the diversities of dining culture worldwide—April 18 is the organization's World Food Travel Day. Wolf argues there are few, if any, utterly untenable dining customs or foods, no matter how bizarre they may seem to Americans, or vice versa. While encouraging travelers everywhere to be as adventurous as they can manage—isn't that the whole point of travel?—he adds that one of the benefits of globalization is widespread acceptance of culinary and customary differences. 'It's appropriate to keep a smile on your face while others indulge in things that seem less appetizing to you. This way, you can show you are entertained by the different experience,' Wolf advised. 'And if you just cannot partake in some particular custom, a trend working in the favor of many travelers these days is the surge in special diets—not just vegetarian and vegan, but gluten-free, organic, no artificial sweeteners, no added sugar, kosher and halal, and I have even met bacon-flexible Jewish travelers. Everyone loves bacon, right? The point is, people now are more used to the unexpected, either way.' I have found this completely true when, no matter where I am, I decline alcohol. In Paris, Dublin, Beijing, Wyoming, Vienna, Cape Town, and Tbilisi, I've received no pushback anywhere. I usually need not even explain that I don't drink at all, ever. This is quite a change from the ceremonial pre-dinner booze bacchanalia common in some cultures. I've yet to test my principles in the place supposedly most wedded to drunken debauchery, Russia, but it's been fine in Romania, Bulgaria, Taiwan, and many other locales. Still, generational change doesn't mean extinction of traditions, even if you're able to politely decline. The guest of honor at east Asian banquets is traditionally offered the eye of the whole fish as a good-luck gesture. Yes, I did eat it—twice. Kind of a nothingburger, though eyeballs are said to have buckets of beneficial trace minerals (really). In many Asian cultures, it's not only not rude to slurp your soup and belch after dinner; it's considered a traditional, polite way to signal your approval of the food. In much of the Arabic world, Wolf points out, it's considered ghastly to eat with your left hand, as it used to be reserved for hygienic purposes. Indoor plumbing is common almost everywhere now, but the tradition persists. 'Even with cutlery,' Wolf added. Other examples abound: In parts of Italy, it's unthinkable to mix cheese and seafood, as in pasta. Chileans supposedly frown on ever using your hands, even to eat sandwiches. Sometimes the situation is key. I tried a skewer of fried scorpions in a street food market in Beijing—but my guide, a young Chinese woman, stepped back and declined. Neither one of us thought to deride the other. I was an adventurous visitor, she a young member of the Facebook generation. My nephew, a globe-trotting executive for the world's largest consulting firm, was a little taken aback to realize that the lean, skewered carcasses roasting over charcoal in Vietnamese street markets weren't goats. No matter how worldly, he had no desire to sample dog—but says he'd have done so, to be polite, if he were at a private dinner. I see global dining distinctions as just another facet of the beautifully kaleidoscopic, infinite cornucopia of food. They illustrate one of the great lessons of travel: So many things we think of as truth are actually custom. You'll never find fried scorpions in Iowa. But there's no deep-fried butter in Beijing, either. You can get a fork now at most barbecue restaurants in Texas, even in Lockhart. But many of the Lone Star state's small town pits are being refashioned into taquerias. That's fine—one can't stop cultural tides, and I embrace good tacos which, by the way, are often served minus cutlery. But maybe if the former barbecue pitmasters had all saved costs on unnecessary forks, things would be different? What I mean to say is: Things are different. Everywhere. Let's celebrate it as much as we can while it's still true.

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