Five Dollar Latte Habit: How Much Should I Tip?

Photo by Bradleygee.

I'm standing at the cash register, paying for my latte, and the inner battle begins once again.  For as many times as I have purchased my frothy daily indulgence, you would think that I would have decided upon a tipping rule that I could confidently execute, one that leaves me neither feeling economically plundered nor like an obnoxious cheapskate.

How much should I tip?  Is there a percentage that is acceptable? I have to consider that the barista is always very nice.  She knows my "regular" drink and often has it ready before I even walk in.  She is about to hand me my change, and I need to make a decision!  I eye the tip jar, which is packed with dollar bills, and I know, as a member of the sheep-like human race, my very existence a reflection of the social norms that surround me, that the message here is "TIP ONE DOLLAR!"

The tip jar is cleverly disguised peer pressure. It advertises that every other sophisticated caffeine officianado is tipping a dollar per java.   This benign looking little jar is meant to provide me with obvious social instructions. Tip jars are clear for a reason, after all. "This is how much you should tip!" they scream, "Unless, of course, you suck."

In one study that looked at the effect of a pre-populated tip jar, researchers found that if a $5.00 bill were planted in the jar at the beginning of the day...people would generally tip more and often match the $5.00!  Morons!  A 100% tip? That is the cost of an entire beverage!  But alas, we are weak and easily manipulated by our desperate need to do what everyone else is doing!

The barista is passing me my change and my eyes remain fixed upon jar. This particular jar is so full of dollar bills, that I am sure they have had to compact it several times that day to prevent it from overflowing.  In a panic, I begin to do some math in my head.  My chai latte costs $3.96.  My forthcoming change will be $1.04.  How much do I tip?  Were I to tip the full amount, it would be equivalent to a 25% tip.  (More than I tip in a restaurant or bar).   If I tip the four cents, I will appear cheap, especially since there are mostly bills in the jar.  What SOB gives coins?  Nickles?  Pennies?  Quarters, maybe. If I tip the dollar, but pocket the four cents, I look even cheaper.  Who keeps pennies, right?

If I'm lucky, I have some change in my wallet, like maybe 50 cents ( a 15% tip).  I can pocket the dollar four, and slam some coins into the jar so everyone can hear that I HAVE TIPPED! I AM NOT CHEAP!  I FOLLOWED THE RULES!

Some might draw the conclusion that the very fact that I worry about this makes me cheap.  It's only a dollar, after all.  I admit, however, that I am unwilling to turn my $3.96 latte, into a $5.00 latte.  Tipping a dollar for every latte I buy, at my current rate of latte consumption, works out to a whopping $260.00 bucks a year!  If I were to invest that, by the time I were 65 years old, all of those tips would be worth $8 million dollars! (Well maybe not that much, but it's still a lot, right?)
At some coffee shops they don't even have tip jars, and I find that experience so much more relaxing!

I recently asked a restaurateur what his thoughts were, and he confidently stated that tipping the change was appropriate.  I clarified, "What if the change is only a nickel?"  He repeated, "Tip the change".  In his thinking, there will be times that the change will be more than that and over time, the tipping percentage will average out.

Unlike waiters and bartenders, baristas are not paid a minimum hourly rate in lieu of gratuities.  Baristas are paid more per hour and are not as reliant on tips to make up their wages.  Sure, making an infinite variety of annoying coffee concoctions seems like a huge pain in the ass to me, but I am not actually being waited upon, nor am I seated comfortably ordering up my beverage, and I am not sure that steaming milk justifies the 20% minimum tip percentage that a waiter or waitress might earn on a similar tab.  With this rationale, one dollar appears to be excessive tippage.

Why are there so many dollar bills in that dam jar then?  Aren't people paying attention, or do they just have less attachment to their hard earned money than I do?  Is the price written in neon on the chalk board on the wall just a lie? I want a $3.96 latte damn you!  I wouldn't buy a $5.00 latte, that would be a rip off!

The barista hands me my change.  I pause with uncertainty, time stands still, and I can hear my heart beat in my ears.  The tip jar is calling to me, insistent as it's invisible plastic hands reach upwards toward my money.  I watch in horror as my hand, almost as if of it's own volition, reaches down and stuffs the dollar bill into the jar. 

Dammit! How did that happen?  I AM weak.  My head drops, my face slackens. My empty hand hovers, trembling over the tip jar.  I have been defeated, claimed by this false social construct.  Deflated, I pick up my latte and turn to leave.  I suppose I should take comfort in knowing that the barista is happy...that is if she even noticed I gave her a dollar... and for sure she knows that I don't suck.  I can't help but wonder then why, as I walk out the door, my $5.00 latte in hand, am I certain I do?