I f you’ve recently paid for a coffee at a java joint, you might have been prompted by a point-of-sale payment device to add a tip of 15 percent. Or you might have been asked for a more generous 18 percent. A pushing-it 20 percent. A borderline-offensive 25 percent. For a cup of coffee that runs you about $3, and which someone poured from a carafe, that can seem a big ask.
You might have also been swept by an overwhelming sense of annoyance, wondering when the tipping protocols changed, why, and to what end. Recent years have witnessed the twin phenomena of “tipflation” (a higher percentage ask for tips) and “tip creep” (the extension of the practice into new industries). A gratuity economy once limited to businesses like hair salons, hotels, restaurants, bars, and taxis now includes dry cleaners and auto mechanics. Some places are even embedding the option into self-checkout kiosks—situations, in other words, where a human worker plays no role at all.
Frustration over new tipping expectations also stems from the added pressure on consumers, especially as dining out becomes more expensive and living costs climb. Last year, an online survey by pollster Angus Reid Institute found 83 percent of Canadians believed “too many places” were asking for tips.