Guilt-tipping

On numerous occasions, I've sung the praises of my favorite hamburger et al. franchise in Seattle.  I'll call it "BigBurger," but you locals all know who I mean.  BigBurger's a local chain, but I'm only familiar with the one nearest my house.  Unlike others in the chain, my local outlet isn't a drive-in.  It's a sit-down establishment, although you can also order at the counter, pick your order up at the counter, and take it elsewhere to eat.

Until the pandemic arrived in Seattle in 2020, I was a daily BigBurger customer, showing up each day for either my breakfast or my lunch. Beginning in March 2020, I went through 350 days of torture, fully documented herein, during which I was barred, or barred myself, from eating out.  Not until the 14th day after receiving my second Pfizer immunization did I triumphantly return to BigBurger, and order my favorite breakfast.  That breakfast was immortalized in a blog post in March 2021.

At BigBurger, the food was decent, the prices were reasonable, and I felt comfortable reading at my table while eating.  No one ever tipped.  In fact, before the pandemic, I overheard a manager explaining to an employee that tipping was not encouraged, and that to compensate, the business paid above average wages.

It was too good to last.

During those halcyon days, the person at the register took your order, tapped or swiped your credit card, and the order was complete.  More recently, however, the register began generating a paper receipt that you were required to scrawl your signature on -- contrary to the trend elsewhere of eliminating paper receipts.  These receipts ominously had a line where you could add a tip.

I scrawled a version of my signature, ignored the tip line, exchanged greetings with the employee, and walked to my table.  As did -- so far as I could tell -- most customers.

Then, a week or so ago, the nightmare began.  BigBurger installed iPads, facing the customer, connected to a pad where the customer taps his own card.  Tapping your own card arguably makes the transaction faster.  But the iPad?

The iPad is a large screen, with large buttons identifying the percentage of tip you "choose" to leave.  The lowest figure on such a button is ten percent.  I think the highest percentage on a button is 25 percent, but I've been too stunned by the entire concept to look closely.  There is another button with which you can "customize" the size of your tip.  And a tiny button with tiny letters spelling out "No Tip."

These infernal machines have been in place now for a week or two.  Until today, I've relied on good hand-eye coordination to hit the tiny button.  Today, I gave in -- promising myself this was an exceptional day -- and hit the ten percent.  But I was not happy.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm a decent, although not extravagant, tipper.  When I attend a full service, sit-down restaurant, I routinely leave a twenty percent tip -- whether the service has been good or mediocre.  I refuse to use tipping to somehow offer a performance evaluation of the restaurant's staff.  That's their management's job.  I tip because I know that the wages of not only the server but of many of the unseen persons in the kitchen have been scaled down, to take into account the tips they anticipate from their customers.

Tipping is a terrible way to compensate staff, and I hate it.  When eating out in Europe, I happily pay the same amount as a mandatory service charge, although even there I wonder why the restaurant doesn't just up the prices, say 15 percent, rather than tacking on a 15 percent service charge.  Probably because the competition does not do it, and they assume that prospective customers pick their restaurants based on menu price, and are, moreover, unaware that a service charge will also be forthcoming.  A questionable assumption.

Minimum wage in Seattle is $18.69/hour (or $16.50/hour, if tips are sufficient to raise the total above $18.69)..  At least historically, BigBurger has paid above minimum wage.  I'd be happy to see their employees make more money.  I'd be happy -- well, accepting -- of higher menu prices to pay for those higher wages.  

But I'm not happy to be asked to make a voluntary, individual donation -- under a certain amount of psychological duress -- to achieve that goal, in effect subsidizing the meals of those sitting around me who refuse to do so.   

I'm irritated enough that I've found myself asking myself why I don't just stay home more often and make my own sandwiches.