Recently, as I stood in line waiting for my ice cream, a puzzling thought crossed my mind—why is tipping so profoundly embedded in American culture? Have you felt that leaving a tip may feel like an obligation, leaving us with a sense of guilt when we can’t offer a tip, even if it’s not financially practical? This train of thought led me to reflect on my experiences with tipping, particularly as a college student with a handful of experience working in the customer service industry.
It’s unreal that I’ve been part of the retail world for five years. Any job can be demanding, but when it comes to customer service, it can be pretty demanding, especially when you encounter customers who are rude or difficult to deal with.
Anyway, let me get back on track with the idea of tipping. I have experienced some surprises as there have been a few instances where customers have tried to tip me out of appreciation, which I usually would have to turn down due to company policy. Rejecting these tips often leaves me feeling conflicted and guilty, especially when doing my job.
Many rely heavily on tips just to get by, since they’re paid minimum wage, or worse, the sub-minimum salary set aside for tipped workers. Everyone deserves to earn a decent living from their job, not just scrape by based on the whims of customer generosity. It seems fundamentally unfair that someone’s livelihood depends so much on whether a customer decides to tip.
Take the scenario of scooping ice cream, for example. Why is someone tipped for simply scooping ice cream into a cone? Don’t get me wrong; I understand that tipping seems more justified in more specialized situations—like at places such as Cold Stone, where they mix toppings into the ice cream, or in those trendy rolled ice cream spots where an element of artistry is involved. However, the tipping expectation seems excessive for basic tasks like scooping ice cream, which many of us do at home.
And, then, there’s the whole issue of where the tips end up. I’ve heard stories from friends about how tips get pooled together and split among the entire staff on shift. Sometimes, there are suspicions that the management might pocket tips, although I hope that’s not the case. It’s one of the reasons I always try to tip in cash whenever possible—there’s a better chance that the worker who earned it gets to keep it.
Growing up, I watched my dad tip food service workers as long as we could afford it, often leaving a dollar or two, depending on the order size. He used to say that he’d seen how hard life could be for people in service jobs and that offering a little help to improve their day was worth it. His example taught me the importance of tipping to support workers who are often underappreciated.
I’ll admit, as a college student, tipping can sometimes feel like a luxury that I can barely afford. With tuition, bills, and other expenses draining my wallet faster than I can replenish it, tipping—no matter how well-intentioned—can sometimes become an added financial strain. And, I know I’m not alone in this feeling.
Many young people today, especially students, are constantly facing that internal battle between wanting to support service workers and having to watch every dollar they spend. It’s a tricky balance, and the guilt from not tipping can sometimes be overwhelming, even when we’re just doing our best.
The more I think about it, the more it becomes apparent that tipping itself, at least in specific scenarios, is a unique practice in our country compared to different countries where tipping is taken as an insult.
I have yet to have the chance to travel outside the United States, but from what I’ve seen and heard through the media, tipping doesn’t carry the same weight in other countries as it does here. In many places worldwide, tipping can even be seen as offensive, implying that workers aren’t paid a fair wage for the job they’re already doing. This highlights a much larger issue that’s become even more glaring since the COVID-19 pandemic.
The real problem is that too many people don’t earn enough to make ends meet. Businesses were shuttered, jobs were lost, and the cracks in the system became impossible to ignore during the pandemic. It showed us how fragile the financial stability of so many workers is, and tipping, while well-meaning, doesn’t solve the root of the problem—it merely patches over it.
This brings me to the issue of wages. Here in Pennsylvania, for example, the state minimum wage has stagnated for years, even as the cost of living continues to rise. There’s talk of increasing the minimum wage by 2026, which feels hopeful and frustrating at the same time. On one hand, it’s good news that change may finally be coming. On the other hand, 2026 feels like a lifetime away when so many people are struggling right now.
This reflection on tipping hopefully helps you think more critically about your habits and perspectives. Maybe the next time you’re in a situation where tipping is expected, you’ll pause and consider what it means—not just for you but also for the person on the receiving end. Thank you for reading my thoughts, or as I like to call it, my personal TED Talk on the tipping culture in America.
