I shudder to imagine how Aunt Marie (God rest her soul) would react to today’s explosion of expectations for tipping.
Even back in pre-inflationary times, Aunt Marie (who always worked hard for her money) was prone to greet hints for gratuities with a cranky, “I’ll give ‘em a dadgum tip, alright!” (With the understanding that she meant a teeth-jarring tip upside the head.) Unless you’ve been living in a cave, you know that more and more venues and occupations are pushing for tips and that bare-minimum percentages are trending inexorably upwards.
A tip of 15 percent maintained harmony between diners and waitstaff for decades. Now the server infers, “After I leave this measly 15%, I’m going to drive to the cemetery in my diamond- encrusted Rolls Royce and spit on your father’s grave.”
