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| Image - PBS Documentary "Black Folk Don't : Tip" |
"What's the difference between canoes and lesbians?"
"Canoes tip."
If that offends you, sorry, but it was told to me by a male gay server... which makes it okay, right?
All that was just my way of saying "So, let's talk stereotypes!"
You know, like "Black people don't tip..."
Because just when I think I've successfully argued the rationale and my right to autograt every table I can, along comes a group which gives me pause. Much to the chagrin of my co-worker (and financial partner in tip-sharing for the evening) and after much deliberation, I finally chose not to autograt a party for the first time in memory.
Stereotypes played a large role in this decision.
Late on a slow night, I'm alerted by the manager-on-duty of a new 5-top whom she's just seated in my section. Any optimistic hopes I may have had that this will be the table that "makes my night" (financially) dwindle as I walk into the main dining room and notice that it's a table of five black guys.
I'm sure that sounds quite racist, but it's not. It's common knowledge in the restaurant business that black people - on average - don't tip as well as white people do, on average. Am I stereotyping? Yes I am. We all do, but it's a stereotype supported by my years of experience, and the experiences of many other servers.
Today, there are published studies which explore the statistics behind this stereotype, and even a PBS documentary entitled "Black Folk Don't Tip" by Angela Tucker (who is black, btw). Turner interviews several black people in her video, who generally affirm the truth of the stereotype, and cite possible reasons. One posits that black people have less "tipping history" to draw from, because they were denied entry into restaurants for so long in American history. Another, saying it's perhaps "a throwback to slavery" where black people were forced to work for white people for nothing, and so today when we work for them, we get nothing in return. However, Cornell University's study says that black people "tip less than whites even when the server is black" so maybe that's not it.
Ask any black server if you don't believe me. They will affirm that their experience is the same. As Lawrence (whom I worked with years ago at The Prime Cut) liked to say "I love my people. But I don't like waiting on them."
Now many problems come into play when servers respond to this stereotype as if it were an insoluable fact, the largest perhaps being that servers (black and white) don't really want to wait on black parties. It would be correct to say that our optimism of getting a huge tip wanes, and we walk over to the table hoping we'll make maybe 15% anyways, secretly dreading that we might get stiffed. The black server who wasn't seated this group smiles knowingly and says "Good luck with that" as we go to greet the table. However, in certain cases of being seated a black party, a more unprofessional server will withdraw entirely, purposely giving inferior service because they're not expecting to make much money. This of course creates a truly vicious cycle - or a self-fulling prophecy, if you will - of the black people tipping poorly not because they're black, but because they got poor service, and the stereotype continuing.
I learned my lesson years and years ago on this topic. As a newbie waiter at Ruby Tuesday's (in Knoxville Tennessee, where not a lot of black people live) I was seated a black couple on a Friday night. I was still developing into a server who could handle a busy station at that time, but wasn't quite there yet, and was somewhat aware of the mantra "black people don't tip." Because of the volume levels, I came to one or two points in the hour where I had more to do than I could really execute, and made an internal decision to give worse service to the black couple so that I could give better service to my other three tables, who were all white and presumably would tip me better. Yes, I'm admitting this.
By "worse service" I mean that they didn't get re-filled on their drinks as often or as timely as my other tables. They sat there with empty, dirty plates a bit longer as well, until I was "caught up" enough to take them away. I didn't chit-chat with them as much as I did with my other tables either.
So when all was said and done and I'm picking up my books from the empty tables, guess what? The black couple left me $5. That's five 1980's dollars. Five 1980's dollars at a Ruby Tuesday no less. That equates to about twenty-five modern dollars at the more expensive type of restaurants I work at now, and it was well over 20% of their tab. In fact, going by percentage, they tipped me better than any of the other three tables of white rednecks whom I'd given the preferential treatment to.
I felt shame. I realized that I was a lousy human being, and definitely not a professional server either. Like I said, I learned my lesson that day, and then and there resolved to give the best service I can to everybody, because you really don't know - plus it's my job so I need to just do it as best I can. That day, I experienced what others in Turner's video point out, that some black people actually over-tip in order to make up for the stereotype. They are in effect purposely "buying" a better reputation for their entire race, and sacrificing personally to make things better for other black people and their own children, perhaps. Over the years I have received some truly awful tips from black people (and of course white as well), yet I've also been blatantly over-tipped several times as well, from certain black guests.
(Up until now, I've really not wanted to tackle the "black people don't tip" idea in this blog because I know it's controversial. As evidence of my intent and attitude however, I remind you of "Miss Virginia" from my "Worst Day Ever" entry, where I quite purposefully mentioned that she tipped me 30% that day, as my subtle yet intentional effort of not perpetuating the more common attitude. Did ya even notice I did that?)
So anyways, five black guys, right?
Our restaurant's website encourages guests to dress in "business casual" attire, but apparently these guys didn't get that memo. Not a problem, as not everybody that comes in here dresses up, but all I'm saying is that their outfits weren't chosen to help me feel like they were big tippers. There were many bright colors, some loose jeans which were showcasing some really stylish underwear, and not all of their jeans were blue for that matter. Whether these guys were looking "gangster," "ghetto," "styling and profiling" for going to a nice club later or for shooting a hip new music video was not immediately apparent to me. At this point in my life, I'm just too uncool to tell the difference anymore. So maybe I'm generalizing, but the idea that these guys are the "over-tipping type" of black folk doesn't exactly enter my head.
Now, judging solely by their voices and speech patterns, something else becomes apparent as I'm greeting the guys and getting their drink orders. These guys are gay. Well call me sheltered, but the thought occurs to me that "Hey... I don't think I've ever been in the company of five gay black men before..."
Then another thought immediately creeps into my head. "Hey, gay men are usually fantastic tippers. This could turn out well!" It's just another stereo-type I know, but also one that proves to be true when averaged out in the long term.
So while I'm waiting on the guys (and giving them my normal friendly, efficient service I might add) I can't help but wondering how these stereo-types will work together. Will they cancel each other out, or will one trump the other?
"If racial stereotype equals matter, and orientation stereotype equals anti-matter......?" I'm pondering.
Wait, the plot thickens. Another friend joins them, and then another, making seven gay black men that I'm waiting on now. Gay, black, or not, that's seven people Bucco, and our menu states that 20% gratuity will be added to parties of 7 or more.
My tip-pool partner and I raise our eyebrows optimistically and with a hint of relief, knowing that all elements of chance and universe-shattering paradoxes have disappeared, because now we can auto-grat. And if there's any question, even James (a fellow waiter, who is black) says "Do it."
Not that there's any question whatsoever, if you know me.
But then A SNAG comes up. One of the "joiners" isn't eating. Or drinking anything. He's really just there to meet up with his friends before they all move on to somewhere more exciting than this place. I did bring him water, but he didn't ask me to.
So how does that figure in to the auto-grat equation? The number is right, but one's not eating. In fact, two others aren't eating either, they're just having drinks while their friends eat, before all going out together.
I know what you're thinking .. "Well of course you can't auto-grat if one of them didn't even order anything!" I'm sure you're thinking this, right?
But that's just you, and this is probably the first time you've ever pondered the situation. Plus, if your income has never depended upon how you answer such questions, then you might even call me biased (or other, more choice words) but this ain't my first rodeo. I've made this call a dozen times easily, and even had to answer for it a couple of times.
Once, I had some customers (white folk) "call me" on auto-gratting them when one of their party was an infant who didn't order an entree, but that little baby made the table reach the magic number. The menu doesn't say how many entrees result in an auto-grat, it says people. Your little tyke is a person whether he orders from our menu or not, and that counts. Even though little tykes usually graciously tip by leaving 20% of their Cheerios behind for me, I can't spend Cheerios, and the fact that you brought him or her out took up space that I had to clean up afterwards, and they count as a person. Every time.
Black, White, Hispanic, Foreigners, Christians (I love my people, but I don't like waiting on them) - doesn't matter, I will auto-grat when the restaurant's policy says so, and you know this about me, right? And you still love me...
But this... tonight... this table launches me into some truly new territory. This one I have to really think about, and I now appreciate them coming in for that reason alone. They've turned my otherwise mundane night into one of exciting mental gymnastics and ethical and moral dilemmas and stuff, that require me to actually THINK about what I'm doing, for the first time in Oh so long!
All they had was appetizers and a few drinks. My partner expects me to auto-grat them, and it's his income on the line as well as mine if I don't, if the group doesn't tip. The restaurant's policy is to auto-grat. So why am I hesitating?
Well, because they're black. That, and I have a soul. There's a chance they'll challenge the auto-grat based on the fact that one of them didn't eat. I've politely stood my ground on that one before but in this case, I feel like they'll think I'm pushing the policy beyond what is reasonable simply because they're black, not because of my personal policy on people and numbers. Maybe they'd make a scene (no more or less of one than pissed-off white people would, I mean) but whether they would or not, in my heart I just know... they'll be offended.
I'm not in the business of offending people, but I do expect to be paid for what I do. My partner for the evening makes it known that he expects me to grat them, and the manager (white girl, who dates a black guy) has already told me that she will authorize doing so, based on the number of people at the table.
I'd be "in the right" but only in a very debatable way.
Oh, decisions, decisions...
"Black people don't tip."
"Gay men are great tippers."
The moment of truth arrives, and I go to James (the black waiter, and our "senior server" that night) for one last opinion. I have every confidence that what James will say will match what he'd do if it were his money - and his personal integrity - at stake. He asks me "How much is the tab up to?" I show it to him - just $74. His words echo what I've already decided, but man it's good to get a second opinion from a server more professional than my snot-nosed young partner for the evening.
"Don't grat that shit," he says, and I don't. I can't. Acting within my rights somehow doesn't feel right this time. $14 ($7 to me) just isn't worth offending people over.
So for the first time in over a decade, I don't grat a table that I could have, and decide to earn my money (or not) the old-fashioned way this time - by leaving it up to the customer.
I split the checks up as they've directed me, and spin the wheel to see what happens.
Curious? Admit it. You are...
Well, if it were a poker hand, I just hit a straight - of stereotypes.
One guy stiffed me on his beer. The two that ate left me $3 on $42, for about a 7% tip. One left me $2 on a $10 cocktail. And the one that had an appetizer and a coke left a ten-dollar tip on his $16 check.
Every so-called "black stereotype" possible, all at one table.. the stiff, the crap tip, the industry standard one, and the over-tipper who evens out the bad ones.
The auto-grat would have been about $14.80. Without it, we made $15, kept the peace, and I slept well. If not for the over-tipper though, Id've owed my partner a few bucks - and would have gladly paid it because part of being a grown-up means that every now and then you just have to take one for the team.
The human team, that is.
If you're like me, one question remains however :
If they were seven heterosexual black men, would I have taken the same risk, or would I have gratted them?
Well, I can't honestly say off the top of my head. Every situation's different, and you never know what you're going to do sometimes. All I can say for sure, is that if having a bisexual roommate in college who dragged me along to Academy Award winning movies by Spike Lee taught me anything, it would have to be
"Always do the right thing."
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