Nothing screams “WTF!” louder than the scene I witnessed last week here in Las Vegas. Sitting atop the glass counter above all kinds of expensive gold and diamond jewelry was — a tip jar.
I shit you not.
At a jewelry store!
We’ve become a nation of tip jars.
They’re everywhere.
Dry cleaners? Tip jar.
The local deli? Tip jar.
Take out pizza? Tip jar.
Pet grooming? Tip jar.
Oli change and auto lube? Tip jar.
Starbucks? Tip jar.
Ice cream shops? Tip jars.
But nothing screams “WTF!” louder than the scene I witnessed last week here in Las Vegas. Sitting atop the glass counter above all kinds of expensive gold and diamond jewelry was — a tip jar.
I shit you not.
At a jewelry store!
What are you supposed to do — buy an engagement ring, and then fork over an 18 percent gratuity?
Let’s face it, America has turned into a giant nation of beggars. In a proverbial sense, we’ve all been reduced to standing on street corners, holding up cardboard signs. Only the street corners have now rolled into legitimate businesses and become attached to certain trades which would have been unthinkable as occupations requiring tips only a few years ago.
Valet parking, restaurant workers, casino dealers, bartenders, concierge services, bellhops, taxi drivers — I totally get why we need to tip those people. Tipping has been a traditional custom for those occupations for more than a century, at least here in the United States. Yeah, I prefer Europe’s way of doing things. But you know how typical Americans are. We can’t ever accept that some cultures do things better than us.
A few years ago, something very strange happened. Tip jars started appearing out of nowhere in everyday places, and not just in popular tourist destinations like Las Vegas. Now, you’re just as likely to run across a tip jar at a Subway sandwich shop in Kansas, or a PetSmart in Indiana.
What does all this mean?
Well, it’s the byproduct of gross income inequality. It’s the pathetic consequence of the top “one-percent” iron-fisting over half of the wealth generated in this country, thus leaving the lower- and middle-classes to scurry around fighting for crumbs. Tip jars are the rocky road of compromise taken by business owners (some of whom are admittedly struggling themselves) who pay their workers what amounts to slave wages. Since the typical “mom and pop” shopkeeper is determined to keep labor costs as low as possible, they hope customers might be “guilt-tripped” into tipping a dollar or two on each transaction. Even pocket change — anything extra. So, the minimum wage worker actually ends up earning a few dollars more per hour, thanks to the generosity of others.
Tipping beyond venues where we would expect it might be acceptable on some special occasions (i.e., a tip jar to raise money for a longtime employee who is sick), except that tip jars have now become so utterly pervasive in society. A dollar here, a dollar there — it all adds up. This is especially true for those who also make minimum wage and for whom the roles of expectation have been reversed. Is the dog groomer who works at PetSmart supposed to tip the sandwich maker at Subway? And vice-versa? If so, isn’t that a “push?”
It’s one thing to tip a worker who actually does something extra. I have no problem whatsoever with tipping, especially when service is exceptional. But what’s the deal where the simple act of picking up your dry cleaning requires a tip? Or making a ham and cheese sandwich? Or ordering two scoops of ice cream? Okay, make that three scoops — I’m addicted to Cold Stone Creamery.
Making the rounds of weekly errands almost requires shelling out a stack of singles. It’s hard to tell anymore if someone is really getting his business done, or heading off to a strip club. Toss in the (supposedly) homeless people hustling at every busy intersection in town, and I’m going to be completely out of dollar bills by the time its happy hour. Then, the bartender gets really pissed — not a good thing.
The disease is spreading, and it’s not just tip jars. Now, many businesses are starting to ask for donations. Grocery stores at the check-out ask us if we want to donate a dollar to “help feed the homeless.” Hey, I’m all for that. Who wouldn’t be for a worthy charity? But is it really necessary to get pinched for a toke every time you buy a gallon of milk and a bag of Doritos? Even restaurants are now piling on the “extras” with charity questions once billing time comes.
It’s all gotten to be way too much for me. Between the dollar for the pizza guy here, and a dollar for the dog groomer there (actually, it’s $5) — a buck to the homeless guy out on the street corner, followed by a dollar donation to feed the poor at the grocery store — pretty soon, I’m going to need to work a part-time job myself to pay for all my extra tipping.
Hmmm. Here’s an idea. Maybe I can get hired at Cold Stone Creamery. Especially if they have a tip jar.