Tipsy Turvy

      If pressed I would have to say that the absolute biggest cultural difference between Italy and America boils down to one thing: Americans tip, Italians don't. This may sound to some like a minor technicality, but I guarantee you it is not. This is a difference woven into our very ways of living life and seeing the world. One can learn to adapt to the other but, like trying to use a pen with your other hand, it will just never feel right.

      For about seven of the ten years I lived in NYC I waitressed on and off and on again, from lunch and dinner cruises on the Hudson to a Jewish Steakhouse in TriBeCa to a local bistro in Astoria to trendy, celebrity-spotting joints in Chelsea and the East Village. Though each place was drastically different from the next, one thing never changed: Italians rarely tipped...enough. (Before anyone gets all up in arms and offended by the singling out of Italians, I will clarify that this was generally true of all Europeans and of certain resident American ethnic groups as well. Now let it go and let me get on with my point.)

      Of these negligent tippers, I have determined that there are three varieties.

1. Those for whom “When in Rome...” has no international translation.
2. Those who try to tip but can't actually comprehend the reality that 5-10% is still a really crappy tip.
3. Those that want to be precise and therefore ask their server what the proper percentage is and still manage to get it wrong, perhaps having understood it as a joke.

Oh, many are the times that I have approached a recently vacated table with pathetic optimism only to find that my worst fears have been confirmed and that all that up-selling and bilingual banter had been in vain. I have discussed ad nauseam with my fellow servers various solutions to the problem, such as having a “tourist” button on the computer that, when pressed, would print out a self-adjusted check with 15%, 18%, and 20% tip options pre-calculated. And I admit that in extreme circumstances I have asked permission from my manager to just go ahead and add the gratuity to the check myself.

      Now let's look at the other side of the $20 bill. An American traveling in Italy will most likely over-tip because the hardest thing to digest is the fact that even leaving NOTHING is ok... Seriously. Often there's a “bread and cover charge” of a couple of euro per person itemized in the bill and that, even though it isn't a percentage of the total, is sort of like the tip. Of course no one complains if, in a show of gratitude, someone decides to leave more, but just so you know, in that case even €1/person is fine. (Because that extra little show of gratitude is fundamentally what a “tip” is supposed to be.) I've lived here for about three years and I still just can't get used to it.

      That's why this is a familiar scene that plays itself out every time we go out to dinner:

(A Roman trattoria. 10pm. The check is brought. The couple glances at it and counts out some money. Then...)

Me: How much should we leave?

Husband: We don't have to leave anything.

Me: I know, but....

Husband: A couple of euro?

(They empty their collective coins out onto the table and come up with €2 Euro.)

Me: Are you sure that's enough?

Husband: Yes.

Me: Really?

Husband: Really.

Me: ….Maybe another euro.

Husband: (sigh) Whatever you want.

      We also have an American version of this scene.

(A dimly lit NY restaurant. 10pm. The check is brought. The couple glances at it and pulls out a scientific calculator while the waiters looming in the background cast ominous candlelit shadows on the dark walls, apprehension in their eyes due to the Italian accent.)

Husband: 20%?

Me: Yes.

Husband: Before or after tax?

Me: Well, I always do after, but some people do before.

Husband: Ok, so...

Me: But we have been here for a long time.

Husband: So?

Me: Well, so our waiter couldn't turn the table....And we didn't order very much.

Husband: So?

Me: Well, so already his tip will be smaller.

Husband: So what do you want to do.

Me: Oh, just leave $25.

Husband: But that's like 35%!

Me: I know but he was really nice and he felt so bad when he spilled that wine on me. And you know he's expecting almost nothing since you're Italian. So you can prove the stereotype wrong!

Husband: (sigh) Whatever you want.

      So why is there such a discrepancy in our public displays of “gratuitous” appreciation? Well, here is the nitty gritty of the situation. Italian waiters are paid by their employers, American waiters are not. Or should I say: Italian waiters are paid by their employers, American waiters are paid by their customers. When I informed my Italian friends and family of this fact, they were more or less horrified. And when I informed my American friends and family of the equal but opposite fact, they were more or less in awe.

      While I realize that changing the tipping system in the US would probably be even harder than changing our healthcare system, I have to admit that the more I talk to people about it the more I come to see how F'ed up the whole thing really is. Because really, the salary of employees should be something that is factored into the costs of having a business. As my husband says, “Why not have a percentage on the bill that pays for rent and electricity as well in that case?” I've tried to defend it and I've tried to find reason in it...and ultimately I just can't. These conversations always end with me saying, “Look. It's just the way it is and it's not gonna change.”

      But what's really funny to me is how insecure this has made my husband when it comes to paying for anything in the US.

(A bookstore. A salesperson helps to find an item which is subsequently purchased.)

Husband: Do we have to tip him?

Me: No.

(A make-your-own-sald counter.)

Husband: There's a can for tips. Do we have to leave something?

Me: You can leave some change if you want but it's not necessary.

(Getting out of a cab.)

Husband: 20%?

Me: No no. Just add a few dollars.

      To be honest, I'm unable to explain who we tip and when and how much. Like Cubans who are born knowing how to salsa, it just seems to be knowledge that we Americans have in our blood. So when we go out to dinner and we see the prices on the menu, we automatically factor in tax and tip without a second thought. But in Italy what you see on the menu is what you pay, and as a result the entire dining out experience is different.

      So does the fundamental difference between our cultures really boil down to that three letter word? I don't know. Why don't you come visit me? I'll take you to this great little place I know. We'll choose a small table in the corner where we can chat and people watch for hours without the waiters caring one way or the other. If you only want pizza and a soda that's fine, no one will roll their eyes or try to convince you to order anything else. Eventually we'll have to ask for the check, because it's considered rude to rush people out by bringing it before it's requested, and at that point they may offer an espresso or limoncello on the house, just because. Then as we're getting up, if you feel like leaving an extra little something on the table as a token of appreciation be my guest, but if you don't no waiter will give you a dirty look on your way out or tell his friends what a cheap skate he waited on that day. But y'know, maybe it's not really such a big difference after all. You decide.