Our weekends, laced with
fun and a sort of festive fervor, would invariably end up our dining out in a
restaurant near the beach. My wife, an
incorrigible, high-strung stingy soul who cherishes unfastening her vanity bag
come what may, would lavishly litter handsome bucks to waiters as tips. Never
mind, she would be taking a cuppa in a food-joint [the cost which will come
around Rs. 30 only] but my philanthropist better-half would toss away Rs. 15 as
tips.
While I’m not against
tipping waiters, cab drivers, delivery persons and domestic helps, I don’t like
giving them extra large bucks as tips. ‘You may throw litters and litters of
rice into a river, but do so after measuring their quantum,’ is a Tamil proverb
being meticulously followed by me all through my life, and of course, at times,
to the chagrin of my wife. So, I always content giving tips to the hotel
servants or others 10% of the food-bill and this is normally standard.
However, this is not
agreeable to my Stingy-Half [SH] at home that would glower at me and breathes
fire when I try browbeating her at the time of giving sumptuous tips. Added to
our Monday Blues, there arise pitched battles between me and her over the
quantum of giving tips. ‘Damn it,’ she would snarl at me at such times. ‘I
can’t be as mean as you are. I have my own dignity to keep always. Further I
tip for emotional reasons too. For, when I give fat tips to the waiters or
others and see them smile, I feel better about me. Tipping is an act of gratitude,
dear. You should show it wherever you can.’
‘On that score,’ I would
snap at her, red-faced, ‘you can’t be like the King Sibi, you know. When the
waiters do an extra job [i.e., if he brings everything quickly, is friendly,
not annoying] you may tip him 10 to 15% of the food-bill. Anything more than
that is a colossal waste of your hard-earned money or an act of snobbery.
Tips were once given out
of sympathy … a voluntary charitable act. But now that the society having
re-oriented its outlook toward a sort of snobbery, tips giving becomes an
act showing one’s status or the strength of one’s pelf. You feel infra dig if
you don’t give tips. Further, tips giving were once optional but are now
considered by establishments and diners as almost obligatory. It becomes
compulsory too when some, goon-waiters demand out rightly a big cut in your
food-bill. They demand tips as if it is their fundamental right enshrined in
the Constitution.
I had met a host of
self-styled ‘Good Samaritans’ at hotels and saw them tipping heavily to the
servants. But what disgusted me at the time was not their out of box tipping,
but their waxing eloquent like Mark Antony about their so called noble act.
Their didactic on giving tips would always go like this: ‘One of the marks of
the civilized society is the politeness and appreciation strangers show to each
other in public situations. Tipping is a form of social appreciation and
politeness.’
‘Go on Mark Anotonys… go
on,’ I would moan rather mawkishly.
I don’t fidget giving
tips to some one as a token of gratitude for a job well done. That waiter
hurrying back and forth between the kitchen door and your table and attending
your needs with a smile needs to be appreciated monetarily. Again, that depends
on your being prudent and sensible and not on your hefty wallet. I never pay a
single penny to those waiters who are rude and brusque though they always call
me names.
There came another
weekend and we found ourselves sitting in our usual restaurant with the same
lanky waiter attending to our table. We didn’t dine out this time; we had our
coffee. The bill was around Rs.50 inclusive of vat or rat. When the waiter
brought the bill keeping it inside a small rectangular bill-folder, I became wise;
passed on the bill to my wife along with my wallet. After settling the bill,
she left a ten rupee note on the folder as tips. We then sauntered toward the
exit and reached the parking lot.
‘Madam’, I heard the
waiter calling my wife. He came running over to her. Handing her the ten rupee
note that was given to him as tips, he said nonchalantly: ‘Ma’am, please have
your money back. This is in appreciation of your patronage … a discount for
your frequenting our hotel.’ He disappeared as fast as he had come.
While my wife stood
speechless watching his retreating figure, I burst into laughter. ‘Three cheers
to your ‘Quantum Theory’. It pays you discount,’ I said and laughed heartily
until we reached home.
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