What they never told you about tipping

It’s one of those activities that everybody does, most people feel secretly inadequate about, and hardly anyone talks about: no, I’m not talking about sex but tipping.

How much to tip and when? Or not to tip at all? There is not a person living in the civilised world who has not been faced with these questions.

As a rule ten per cent is considered the traditionally politically correct amount to calculate when giving a tip.

But this isn’t a hard and fast rule. Sometimes, the job done doesn’t merit even that. Most times, I find that because I can’t calculate percentages accurately, I over tip wildly.

The best thing to do when you tip is to listen to your heart. Some one’s gone out of their way to deliver good service? Forget the ten per cent, let your wallet say thank you.

Some people withhold tips when they feel a service has been rendered shoddily. To teach the person a lesson. My approach is the opposite. When a poor service has been rendered, take the person aside and explain just where you though the shortfall lay. Then tip as you would normally do. The effect is devastating. The next time around watch them fall all over you to please.

It is common knowledge that the really rich tip far less than you and I. This is perhaps because they value money far more; or they believe that they are entitled to good service; the middle-class, I am willing to bet, are the best tippers. Especially those among them who are socially insecure.

I use tipping as a means of international ambassadorship when I travel abroad. Making it a point to tip doormen and taxi drivers. I am demonstrating that Indians are as good as any one else when it comes to adhering to international norms I tell myself, the next time around, they’ll think twice before refusing an Indian fare or not opening the door for a fellow countrymen, I tell myself.

But the fact is that I love tipping. I regard it as a monetary cuddle, a non verbal hug, a statement of delight that pleases both the tipper and the tippee.

But the thing that offends me deeply is when a tip is expected of me. Especially when it is unjustified. I don’t know about you, but I have begun to recognise a particular gesture, made by watchmen and postmen and telephone linesman and gardeners, a kind of half salaam, performed especially around Diwali and other feasts, but not restricted to these occasions alone, which is an unspoken solicitation for a tip.

For some reason I find this very offensive, and often have to resist the temptation of withholding a tip even when I had first decided to give one.

Let’s face it, a tip lies wholly outside the purview of the economy, a benign cousin of the bribe, a distant uncle of the kickback and the twin brother of the bakshish. It is an admission by the giver that they want to be appreciated for appreciating the given. It is the modern world’s solution for the paucity of the spoken word.

Of course the tip is a double edged sword, wield it inappropriately and it can cause insult, even permanent damage.

Ultimately, the tip is one of those neat little designs that fit easily into traditional social hierarchies. Try tipping some one who regards themselves your equal or peer and see how they take instant umbrage. I told you, like sex, it’s got to be handled delicately.

s_malavika@dnaindia.net