Cheap sandwich, no tips allowed -- what an idea!
Posted
Jan 18 2008, 12:04 PM
by
Donna Freedman
The other day I treated myself to a ham and cheese sandwich at Jimmy John's in the University District. As I ate, I wondered why I like this place so much.
Maybe it's the bread, I thought; it’s chewy, not crumby. Maybe it's the day-old baguettes that are sold for 50 cents and that turn leftover soup into a very nice supper. Maybe it's the price: $3.65 for a "plain slim" (no lettuce, tomatoes or onions).
Probably it's the staff, I decided. Quick with a smile. Always willing to cut those 16-inch baguettes in half so they'll fit in my book bag. And they really do provide the "freaky fast" service the store advertises.
Then I realized what really tied it for me: There isn't a tip jar by the cash register.
Baristas and smoothies and doughnuts -- so what?
I'll likely incur the wrath of the tip-happy for saying this, but I'm irritated by the proliferation of beggar's buckets.
When did the doughnut shop gal start expecting a bonus? When did pulling coffee become a performance art requiring monetary applause? When did we start tipping for takeout, for heaven's sake?
"It's service. You should show your appreciation," people say.
Handing a cruller over the counter is service?
Bagging up your calzone or your chow mein is service?
As for the artistes at the fancy java joint: Um, isn't it their job to produce a good cup of coffee?
We're not talking restaurant waitstaff paid less than minimum wage who rely on tips to survive. (That situation stinks, but as Liz Pulliam Weston points out in her MSN Money article on tipping, we're stuck with it.)
No. We're talking about someone throwing fruit and yogurt into a blender and pouring it into a cup, or someone putting a scoop of mint chocolate chip on a cone. This is someone doing what he or she is paid to do, but expecting that customers will -- must -- make up for perceived pay inequities.
Yet some of those customers work at hard and/or boring and/or thankless jobs, too, and don't have a prayer of getting a tip.
Supermarket clerks will carry your heavy bags out to the car in all kinds of weather. They're not allowed to accept cash.
When I changed my car battery, the folks at Schuck's offered advice and lent me a couple of trays of wrenches. Not a tip jar in sight.
The bookstore salesclerk who suggests good titles doesn't do so with her palm out. She does it because she was hired to provide helpful service.
When I moved to Seattle, I worked for a time in the child care section of a health club. I watched as many as 14 small children at a time for the princely sum of $7.50 an hour. No tips.
Not to rain on your caffeinated parade, baristas, but I think that caring for children is more important than creating perfect foam.
Keep the customer satisfied -- it's your job
Here's the funny thing: The crew at Jimmy John's is a bunch that I would tip, if a jar existed. Yes, they're just doing their jobs, but their unfailing courtesy makes me feel welcome.
The first time I asked if they'd cut a day-old baguette in half, the young woman behind the counter said, "Of course," and not only cut it, but wrapped each half in paper so it wouldn't get stale. (Since then I've taken to carrying a plastic bag in my backpack, just in case.)
Now that's service. That's making sure that the customer's needs are met. Which, in turn, makes sure that the next time that customer wants a ham and cheese sandwich, she'll definitely think of your place.
And now, the punch line: I do put money into tip jars. I just resent the pervasive social attitude that I must.
I'm also confused as to why some people deserve gratuities and some don't. The folks at McDonald's and at movie theater concession stands work under tremendous pressure during rush times, yet they don't get tipped. But the bagel shop counter guy is allowed to put a "starving student!" cup by the cash register.
I have even seen tip jars at children's lemonade stands, and we already hand over at least a buck for a three-ounce cup of watery Kool-Aid because the kids are just so darned cute.
Maybe I should get in on this, too. I could include my PayPal account at the end of every essay. After all, I'm providing a service.
The gratuity, of course, would be strictly voluntary. But if you don't tip, then clearly you don't understand how hard it is to make a living by heating satire to the boiling point, tempering it with relevance and garnishing with freshly grated irony.
And if you do tip? I promise not to spit in your blog.
