After ten years working in hospitality, you’d have thought I’d be able to spot at 20 paces who will and won’t tip.
And yet, only last week, having gone to clear the table of someone who’d come across as rude and arrogant – the sure signs of a tightwad – I was stunned to find £500 in cash beneath the empty glass out of which he’d drunk two shots of expensive vodka.
His bill, including the service charge, was around a tenth of what he had left.
That, of course, is a significant bonus for a waitress like me – and thanks to the recent change in law, I got to keep all of it. Indeed, had I not been dead on my feet, I’d have had a little drink myself to celebrate the private members’ bill brought by former Conservative MP Dean Russell which finally made the statute book last week.
From now on, miserly bosses are required by law to hand over 100 per cent of tips to the staff who’ve earned them.
I get paid £13.50 an hour and work around 50 hours a week, in between auditioning and working as an actress – so you can see the difference that wad of money from my vodka-drinking benefactor will make.
Initial signs were not promising: deep in conversation on his phone, he summoned me over at the upmarket hotel bar where I work, silently pointed out the drink he wanted, and used his fingers to indicate two shots. Then he used his free hand to waft me away, just as you might get rid of an annoying fly.
This seemingly rude man didn’t speak a word to me, but used that astonishingly large tip to say thanks for giving him what he wanted: a stiff drink, no fuss.
Yes, it could be interpreted as just another kind of power play, but I don’t care. There are plenty of other customers who run us ragged and then make a point of getting the service charge removed as their final act of humiliation.
Like the bloke who was part of a group of ten that recently walked in, near closing time, without a booking. I soon regretted giving them a table – they were loud and obnoxious, making us wait ages to take their order, which in turn made us all late home.
As I passed the table, one of them grabbed me by the arm. Thrusting his credit card into my hand, he said: ‘Go to the shop and buy me some cigarettes.’
He looked furious when I said sorry, but I can’t. When the bill came, he snatched it up, then loudly demanded the 12.5 per cent service charge – which came to about £50, so just a fiver from each of them – be removed. The smug look on his face showed how powerful that made him feel.
You’d be amazed at how blatant some cheapskates are. I made a huge fuss of one middle-aged couple, after they told me they were on their first date. They had a lovely evening, and I really hoped they’d see each other again.
But then the woman showed her true colours: her date left £20 for me on the table, having already paid the service charge on his card – but she swiped it for herself when he popped into the toilet on their way out. She actually dashed back from the door, grabbed the note, and pocketed it!
I’ve never hoped more for a woman to get dumped than I did then.
There is one brand of customer that always tips, though: the Americans. Even if things go wrong, it’s so culturally hardwired into them, I’ve never known one to leave without tipping.
At the other end of the scale, you’d be amazed how often the woman dripping in designer labels will ask for the service charge to be removed from her lunch bill.
People will try all sorts of tactics to avoid paying a tip. I’ve lost count of the times someone has asked for the service charge to be removed from the bill because they’d rather pay it in cash, but then realise – what a surprise! – they don’t have any on them.
Some make a great show of fumbling in their bag or coat pockets before giving up with a shrug.
Others, who seem friendly and happy with their service and meal, will put on a show of mock outrage when they see the service charge. They don’t seem to realise what an embarrassing look that is.
We get how expensive life is these days, but if you’ve ordered the priciest dishes, drunk the bar dry, and had us running around all night, we can’t help but feel you owe us a tip.
Sadly, that type rarely feels the same way.
- The author’s name has been changed.
