Tip Jars

One of the values held dear by my lovely wife is that of generosity, and I must admit that this is one of the many facets of my personality that has improved with our marriage. (Another might be the ability to eat dinner without engaging in a play-by-play style discussion of the path the meal is taking through my digestive tract.)

Early in our marriage, I would have to be revived if Erin managed to get our restaurant bill before I did, for I knew that the tip would probably be nearly equal to our original bill. We have managed to merge in the middle, and now we agree to tip well without trying to single handedly make a rent or mortgage payment for our server.

The one facet of tipping that still annoys me is the tip jar at the Starbucks drive thru. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the willingness of my window-based barista to pour me a "tall, black coffee" -- my signature drink at Starbucks. But I don't really feel like there's anything about my order that warrants a tip. I just find that the jar annoys me.

The other thing that bothers me about the tip jar in this location is that I eat at other fast food establishments, and the fine employees of those restaurants don't get tips, and in many cases they've had to do far more work for me. The woman who dresses my Whopper (something hard to say without snickering) and the man who salts my fries (not nearly as double entendre friendly) arguably work harder than someone who pours me a cup of coffee, yet they make no effort to receive a tip. They simply man their post and provide the requested service.

Perhaps the answer here, at least in my wife's eyes, is to start offering a tip to the fine folks who serve me at fast food places other than Starbucks. Or better yet, maybe I just need to lay off the cheeseburgers and coffee.