The “Guilt Tipping” Era: How Tipping Culture Reached a Breaking Point

Introduction: From Generosity to Obligation

Tipping in America was once seen as a token of appreciation – a voluntary reward for service that went above and beyond. Today, it has morphed into an expectation bordering on an obligation. Bright touchscreen tablets at coffee shops, takeout counters, and even self-checkouts now routinely swivel toward customers, flashing preset tip options of 20%, 30%, or even 50% before any service has been rendered. What was traditionally a “thank you” has evolved into “a surcharge” on nearly every transaction.

The proliferation of these “guilt tipping” prompts – and the social pressure they exert – marks a dramatic shift in American consumer experience^[1][2]. In this deep dive, we explore how U.S. tipping culture got so out of hand, why a growing number of Americans are fed up with it, and who really benefits from this system.

Recent surveys reveal widespread resentment toward what many call “tipflation.” In late 2025, 65% of U.S. consumers reported being “fed up” with tipping, up sharply from 53% in 2023^[3]. Nearly 77% even said tipping in the U.S. has become “ridiculous,” according to one study^[3]. On social media and in everyday conversations, people share stories of feeling pressured to tip in situations that would have been unheard of a few years ago – from dropping a few coins in a fast-food tip jar to adding 20% for a drive-thru coffee or a self-serve kiosk.

The discontent is now manifesting in behavior: about 43% of consumers admit they are tipping less this year as a direct response to being bombarded with so many tip requests^[4]. In fact, one poll found 38% of Americans have cut back on “guilt tips” in 2025 versus the year prior^[5]. These trends suggest a tipping culture at a breaking point, where the once-benign custom of gratuity has been stretched to a level that leaves patrons confused, annoyed, and financially strained.

The Rise of Guilt Tipping Post-Pandemic

One of the most striking changes in recent years is how many places now expect tips. According to Pew Research Center, 72% of U.S. adults say tipping is expected in more places today than it was five years ago^[6]. This aligns with anecdotal reports and has earned the phenomenon a nickname: “tipflation.” What’s driving this expansion? A key factor is the explosion of digital point-of-sale (POS) systems that prompt for tips.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, many businesses adopted tablet-based payment systems (think Square, Toast, and Clover) for contactless transactions. These systems made it trivially easy to prompt every customer for a tip, even in businesses where tipping wasn’t customary. With a simple software setting, an owner can present customers with a tipping screen – often with suggested percentages like 18%, 20%, or 25% – for everything from a takeout burrito to a retail purchase^[7]. Crucially, the social pressure in these interactions is palpable: an employee might be standing right there as you decide whether to tap “No Tip,” turning a normally private decision into a potentially awkward moment^[7][2].

One hospitality expert noted that the flipped screen and expectant gaze of a worker introduce a “psychological element of shame” that strongly motivates tipping out of guilt^[7]. This guilt-driven tipping – rather than tipping for excellent service – has become so prevalent that it earned its own label in popular discourse as “guilt tipping”^[1].

Not only are tips expected in more places, but the size of the “normal” tip has inflated. In many American eateries, 20% is now considered the default for acceptable service – a figure that used to be the high end of generous. By comparison, in the 1980s the baseline restaurant tip was about 15%, and in the early 20th century it was 10%^[8]. Today, some tablet systems don’t even give options below 20%; it’s common to see preset buttons for 25%, 30%, or even 40%+ on the payment screen^[9][10].

One viral video showed a payment tablet offering 30%, 40%, or 50% tip suggestions for a simple counter-service order – to the dismay of the customer filming it. In other cases, 18% is presented as the minimum tip, forcing those who wish to tip less to navigate a “custom tip” menu to input a smaller amount or zero^[9]. As one frustrated consumer pointed out, this tactic can backfire: feeling manipulated by an unskippable 18%+ prompt, they would rather take the extra steps to enter a zero tip than be strong-armed into over-tipping. Such practices give consumers the sense that “tipping culture has gotten out of control”, a sentiment 41% of Americans explicitly agree with in surveys^[11].

The COVID-19 pandemic initially fostered greater empathy for service workers – many customers willingly tipped extra to support baristas, delivery drivers, and grocery clerks working through difficult conditions. Digital tipping surged during 2020; for instance, data from Square showed both the frequency and size of tips at quick-service and takeout restaurants rose markedly in 2020-2021^[12].

Americans, inspired by solidarity and generosity, “became very generous during COVID” and tipped in situations they never had before^[13]. This may have unintentionally set new norms. Post-pandemic, businesses realized they could continue this expanded tipping model. A University of Houston hospitality professor observed that the trend stuck because it relieved employers of pressure to increase wages, and workers too began to expect these tips as part of their pay^[14]. In other words, what began as a spontaneous outpouring of generosity in a crisis has solidified into an expectation – effectively, a transfer of responsibility for workers’ income from the employer to the customer.

Everywhere You Turn, an iPad Asks for a Tip

Everyday Americans now find themselves navigating tipping decisions constantly. A 2025 study found that consumers encounter tip requests about 10 times per month on average, often in scenarios where tipping “used to be unheard of”^[4]. Picking up a takeout order, grabbing a coffee to-go, buying a bagel at a bakery, getting a car wash, even paying for a DIY auto part – all of these can trigger the now-familiar phrase: “It’s going to ask you a question…” (a polite euphemism employees use to indicate the looming tip prompt).

Indeed, self-checkout kiosks and payment apps have started asking for tips despite minimal to no interaction with staff. In one widely cited New York Times report, airport self-service checkout machines were soliciting tips – leaving travelers baffled as to whom the money would even go to^[9].

This proliferation of tipping prompts has made many Americans feel nickel-and-dimed. In a Pew survey of nearly 12,000 people, only about 34% said they find it easy to know when and how much to tip nowadays^[15]. The majority are uncertain or lack confidence, underscoring how unclear the “rules” have become. The same study reported a split in public opinion on whether tipping is a choice or an obligation: only 21% see it as “more of a choice” while 29% say it’s “more of an obligation,” and about half say “it depends on the situation”^[16]. This ambiguity adds to the mental burden of each transaction. Many feel they are walking on eggshells, not wanting to stiff hardworking staff, yet unable to tip 20% on every single purchase without straining their own budget.

The paradox is that even as tipping opportunities have multiplied, people’s willingness (and ability) to tip generously for all of these occasions is finite. The result? Tipping fatigue. According to surveys by restaurant tech firm Popmenu, two-thirds of consumers report being tired of so many tip requests^[3]. This fatigue is translating to action: a 2025 Popmenu study found 43% of consumers now tip less overall than they did the year before^[4]. Similarly, Bankrate’s annual tipping survey noted a stabilization or decline in some tipping behaviors after years of steady drops – essentially, people are holding the line or pulling back after a pandemic-era high tide of tipping generosity^[17][18].

For example, only 35% of Americans now say they typically tip 20% or more at a sit-down restaurant, down from 37% a year prior^[19]. And in everyday situations like coffee shops or takeout counters, the majority do not always tip: just 25% always tip baristas and 12% always tip at fast-casual restaurants without table service^[20]. It appears that as tipping expectations have expanded, many consumers are quietly pushing back by reserving generous tips for the contexts they feel are truly warranted.

Qualitative evidence of this pushback abounds. Social media is filled with posts – some angry, some humorous – about awkward tipping encounters. One TikTok user recounted a visit to a drive-thru coffee chain where the cashier pointedly asked if she’d like to leave a tip, then stood by and even volunteered her own financial hardships in an attempt to justify tipping for a simple coffee pick-up. The customer internally thought, “I’m already paying $7 for a drink… tipping for this is crazy,” but felt shamed when the employee lingered after the payment was complete. These everyday anecdotes resonate with thousands of viewers who comment that they’ve experienced similar guilt-laden moments.

In another story that went viral, a fast-food worker at a Dairy Queen drive-thru asked a customer if they really wanted their 32 cents in change, implying it should be left as a tip. The customer, surprised (since fast-food counter workers have never traditionally been tipped positions), asked if people usually don’t take their change. The worker replied, “people normally tip the…,” trailing off – making it clear the coins were expected to go in the tip jar. Incidents like this illustrate the creeping sense of entitlement to tips in jobs that are hourly-wage and historically not tip-reliant. For many consumers, it’s a bewildering role reversal: they feel as if declining to tip (even for perfunctory service) casts them as the bad guy – a stingy or rude customer – rather than tipping being seen as a bonus the employee earns through exceptional service.

Indeed, the essence of tipping has been turned upside down. “Customers used to tip for service that exceeded expectations; now we’re expected to tip for workers simply doing their jobs,” as one commentator lamented. Tipping was traditionally a reward, but it’s increasingly an ante – a fee you must pay upfront to avoid social scorn or to ensure decent service. Nearly 64% of consumers admit they have tipped even when service was poor, purely out of guilt or fear of looking cheap^[21]. Over half (52%) have added a tip because they felt bad for the worker, and 45% have done so because they “didn’t want to look stingy”^[21].

This sense of coercion is why the term “guilt tipping” has entered the lexicon – people are tipping from emotional pressure, not from appreciation. And tellingly, 66% of Americans say they feel pressure to tip when the digital payment screen suggests it in front of an employee^[2]. The design of these systems is quite deliberate: by making “no tip” an active choice (often a smaller, less prominent button, sometimes colored in a way that implies negativity), the default psychology nudges more people to tip at least something.

The cumulative effect on consumers’ wallets is non-trivial. While a dollar here or 20% there might seem small in isolation, they add up across dozens of transactions a month. Popmenu’s survey found that, on average, people estimated $150 of their annual tips were for things that “weren’t customary or necessary.”^[22] In other words, people feel they spend a few hundred dollars a year essentially on guilt tips – extra gratuities they don’t actually think should be required. It’s no wonder many are recalibrating their habits.

A growing chorus (41% of Americans) say businesses should just pay employees better rather than relying so much on tips^[23][24]. And about 72% strongly oppose the newest twist in tip creep: automatic service charges added to bills by businesses (only 10% favor that practice)^[25]. Americans are effectively saying: Enough. We’re willing to tip for service – but don’t force it on us everywhere, all the time, at exorbitant rates.

Tip Creep Meets Corporate Greed: Shifting Labor Costs to Customers

How did we get here? A large part of the story is that many companies discovered a convenient way to boost their bottom line: shift more of their labor costs onto customers in the form of tips. In the years around the pandemic, businesses faced rising costs – from supply chain price hikes to worker shortages. Normally, employers under such pressure might raise wages to attract staff and increase prices to cover costs. But corporate America found a more profitable “solution”: raise prices anyway (often beyond the level of inflation) and encourage customers to cover wage increases through tips. This way, the company can keep the extra revenue as profit rather than spend it on higher hourly pay. It’s a strategy of offloading risk and expense to both consumers and workers simultaneously.

Take the example of Dutch Bros Coffee, a popular drive-thru coffee chain known for its perky service. In recent years, Dutch Bros began prompting drive-thru customers for tips on tablet screens – an unusual practice in the grab-and-go coffee space. Why would a company that in 2022 earned roughly $1.5 billion in revenue and is valued around $10 billion push so aggressively for $1 and $2 tips on $7 drinks? The reason is clear: those tips effectively subsidize the wages of their 19,000 employees, saving the company money.

By one estimate, to replace tips with fair wages, Dutch Bros would need to pay on the order of an additional $100–$170 million per year to its staff – equivalent to only about 6.5–11% of its revenue. They could afford it, but they choose not to because keeping labor costs low and margins high pleases Wall Street. As one industry analyst put it, “The tipping takeover is not an accident – it’s a strategy.” Companies realize that if we (the customers) can be made to feel responsible for ensuring workers earn a decent living, then the company can have it both ways: strong sales and minimal wage growth, boosting profits.

We see this pattern in many corporate earnings reports. Despite talking up inflation and higher expenses, major restaurant chains have enjoyed record profits in the past couple of years. For instance, Chipotle Mexican Grill hiked menu prices significantly in 2021–2022 (one burrito bowl climbed by several dollars) and did not roll them back even after ingredient costs stabilized. The result? Chipotle’s profits soared 110% over a few years^[26][27]. Executives even bragged to investors that they had raised prices higher than their own cost inflation^[26][27].

An analysis by The Guardian of dozens of top food companies found that net profit margins were up a median of 51% since before the pandemic, with restaurants seeing a median 72% profit increase since inflation’s peak^[28][29]. In contrast, the average American worker’s wages rose only ~5% in that span, nowhere near enough to keep up with rising prices^[29]. For low-wage workers, especially in food service, the gap is even starker – food price increases have outpaced their wage gains by over 300% in the last two years^[29]. These statistics reveal that many companies didn’t need tips to survive; they exploited the inflation narrative to raise prices and count on consumer tips, thereby preserving or enlarging profits.

Tipping plays into this by allowing businesses to maintain the fiction that labor is a variable cost to be covered partly by customers. Rather than pay, say, a barista $18 per hour, a coffee shop might pay $12 and rely on tips to make up the rest. They then design every point-of-sale interaction to maximize the likelihood of that tip – hence the ubiquitous screens and scripted asks. If a worker can’t pay their bills on base pay alone, the company can shrug and implicitly blame the customers for “not tipping enough”. Meanwhile, the company gets to advertise “competitive pay” (because with tips a barista might indeed earn $18–20/hr on a good day) without actually footing the bill for it. It’s a perverse system where corporations get predictable revenues and lower payroll expenses, while workers get unpredictable income and customers get higher final bills.

The “tip credit” structure in U.S. labor law is a big enabler of this dynamic. Since 1966, federal law has allowed employers to pay tipped workers far below minimum wage (as low as $2.13 an hour at the federal level) on the assumption that tips will bring them up to at least the standard minimum^[30]. This effectively subsidizes employers: the law lets them offload a portion of wage costs onto customers. Stephen Barth, a hospitality law professor, bluntly calls the tipped minimum wage “a subsidy for employers”, noting that it “relieves [them] of the pressure to increase wages”^[31].

Although many states have higher tipped minimums or have abolished the tip credit entirely (as of 2024, 14 states still allow the $2.13 rate or similar^[32]), the legacy remains: tipping in America has been institutionalized as part of workers’ compensation. One consequence is that in states with a regular full minimum wage for tipped workers, the poverty rate among tipped employees is roughly half what it is in states that stick to the lower tipped wage^[33]. That speaks volumes: when employers are required to pay a normal wage in addition to tips, workers are much better off. Yet many businesses and restaurant lobbies fight vigorously against eliminating the tip credit, precisely because it would shift responsibility for wages back onto them rather than diners. (Notably, 62% of U.S. consumers say they would prefer menu prices be higher if it meant restaurant staff got higher wages and tipping could be eliminated^[34] – a majority of the public is essentially saying they’d rather pay the cost up front than play this convoluted tipping game.)

From a corporate perspective, tipping has another perk: it can mask true prices. Businesses often quote menu prices that don’t reflect what the customer will actually pay to adequately reward the staff. A meal might be listed at $15, but after a 10% sales tax and 20% tip, the customer’s outlay is closer to $19–20. That difference goes largely unnoticed in price comparisons because the tip is “optional” (even if socially mandatory). Early critics of tipping called it a “falsification of prices” for exactly this reason^[35].

In modern times, companies benefit from this opacity – they can keep base prices looking moderate while knowing many patrons will feel compelled to add gratuity. If tipping were abolished and replaced with service-inclusive pricing, that same business would have to list the entree at $18 or $20 and clearly own the higher price, which some fear could deter price-sensitive customers. Thus, tipping persists not just due to cultural habit but because it artificially cheapens the advertised cost of services, while the real cost is collected through tips.

To be fair, not all businesses cynically exploit tipping; many genuinely struggle with tight margins and see tip pooling as a way to boost worker pay without risking bankruptcy. Especially in the independent restaurant sector, owners sometimes believe (rightly or wrongly) that eliminating tipping would force them to raise menu prices so much that they’d lose customers. However, even these well-intentioned cases contribute to a norm where workers’ livelihoods depend on customers’ mood and generosity each day, rather than on stable salaries. And that brings significant downsides for workers, as we explore next.

When Tipping Replaces Wages, Workers Lose Security

One of the most troubling aspects of the current tipping landscape is how it affects service workers themselves. Superficially, tipping can give high-performing or friendly servers a chance to earn more than a flat wage might offer. But it comes at the cost of stability, equity, and sometimes legality. As tipping expectations spread to roles that historically earned a steady wage (baristas, fast-food cashiers, etc.), more workers are seeing their income become volatile – excellent on some days, terrible on others – and ever more dependent on factors outside their control (like customers’ tipping fatigue or economic moods).

Recent data show that tips have become more volatile and less reliable in the past few years. Consumers feeling overwhelmed by tip requests are cutting back, which means workers can no longer count on the same tip income they used to get in traditional tip-heavy jobs^[36]. A paradox emerges: by trying to enforce tipping everywhere, companies may have inadvertently triggered tip fatigue that leads customers to tip less generously in situations (like full-service restaurants) where they always did before. For example, Bankrate found the share of restaurant diners who tip at least 20% has slipped slightly year-over-year (37% in 2024 down to 35% in 2025)^[19]. Many servers report that while they are serving the same number of tables, the average tip per table has declined as some patrons stick to 15% or lower in silent protest of tip inflation. In other words, the over-saturation of tipping may be hurting the very workers it was meant to help by diluting customers’ willingness to tip enthusiastically when it truly matters.

Even more alarming is the prevalence of tip theft and skimming by employers. Whenever money is given as a tip, there is an implicit trust that it reaches the intended staff. But numerous cases show that’s not always happening. According to the U.S. Department of Labor, wage theft (including unpaid tips and overtime) is one of the most common labor violations in the service industry, collectively costing American workers billions of dollars every year in lost earnings^[37][38]. In one survey, 35% of tipped workers reported experiencing wage theft in just the past year – often through employers illegally siphoning off tips or failing to top up subminimum wages as required^[39].

The Economic Policy Institute estimates that in just the 10 largest states, workers lose about $8 billion annually to minimum-wage violations (a large portion of which are in tipped industries); extrapolated nationwide, more than $15 billion may be stolen from workers each year through wage theft^[39][40]. This dwarfs the value of all robberies and property crimes combined, as some analysts have pointed out, highlighting that the real “theft” problem in America happens in payroll, not on the streets.

High-profile lawsuits have peeled back the curtain on tip theft schemes. Food delivery platform DoorDash, for example, was caught in 2019 using customer tips to subsidize drivers’ base pay, instead of adding on top as customers assumed. Under an older pay model, a DoorDash driver might be guaranteed $10 for a delivery; if the customer tipped $6, DoorDash would quietly pay only $4 of its own money (still totaling $10 to the driver), effectively pocketing the $6 tip to save itself money. Customers were outraged when this came to light – they thought they were tipping workers, not the company.

The New York Attorney General investigated and in 2025 DoorDash agreed to a $16.75 million settlement for misleading and underpaying workers in this way^[41][42]. The settlement is set to compensate over 60,000 delivery workers who were shorted on tips^[43]. Similarly, coffee giant Starbucks has faced multiple class-action lawsuits over its tip policies. In some states like Massachusetts, Starbucks unlawfully let shift supervisors or managers take a cut of the tip pool; in 2009–2012 this led to a $23.5 million settlement reimbursing baristas for tips that had been wrongly distributed to higher-ups^[44]. In New York, Starbucks recently agreed to pay over $35 million to resolve allegations that it withheld gratuities from employees, in violation of city consumer protection laws^[45][46]. These cases underscore that tip-based income is uniquely vulnerable to being skimmed or misappropriated. Unlike a set wage, which appears on a pay stub with legal accountability, tips often flow through opaque channels – a manager’s calculation, a POS software algorithm, a third-party app – before reaching the worker. If a portion disappears along the way, it can be very difficult for workers to detect or prove.

Even in smaller establishments, abuses occur. There are countless stories on worker forums of restaurant owners dipping into the tip pool to cover credit card processing fees, deducting mysterious “admin” percentages, or simply keeping a portion of tips as profit. Legally, in the U.S., employers are generally prohibited from taking employees’ tips (and tip pooling is allowed only among employees, not with managers). But enforcement is spotty. If a server suspects the tip totals don’t add up, how are they to prove that, especially if retaliation looms for raising a stink? As one frustrated bartender shared online: “Management lumps our tips in with total sales, then only pays out 6% of sales to the staff as ‘tips’ – effectively stealing the rest of the tips for the house.”

Such practices are “illegal as hell,” as the bartender noted, but they do happen under-the-radar. When tips are funneled through digital systems, the opportunity for quiet diversion is there. A customer might hit “20% tip” on an iPad at a café, but the barista has no way to verify whether that money was indeed added to their paycheck or vanished into a managerial black box. The lack of transparency and regulation in tip handling (compared to wages) makes it a gray area ripe for exploitation.

From the worker’s perspective, a reliance on tips replaces stable income with uncertainty. A slow Tuesday shift or a string of stingy customers can mean the difference between making rent or not – something that shouldn’t be the case when one is technically employed full-time. This variability has also been linked to other issues, such as increased vulnerability to harassment. Studies by the advocacy group One Fair Wage have noted that tipped workers, especially in restaurants, often feel pressured to tolerate inappropriate customer behavior (or “flirt for tips”) because their income depends on keeping the customer happy at all costs. The power dynamic is skewed when the person you’re serving directly controls a big part of your earnings. During the pandemic, there were reports of servers feeling compelled to ignore mask rules or endure health risks to avoid angering customers who might retaliate by withholding tips. All of this because their base pay was so low that they couldn’t afford to risk losing the gratuity.

There’s also a long-recognized inequity among staff: front-of-house workers (servers, bartenders) can make far more in tips than equally hard-working back-of-house staff (cooks, dishwashers) who typically don’t receive tips. Some high-end servers in busy establishments take home $300–$500 in tips on a weekend night – more than the kitchen crew makes in a week. This can breed resentment and high turnover for non-tipped roles. A few restaurateurs have tried to address this by pooling tips and sharing them with kitchen staff, or by eliminating tips and raising wages across the board. However, in many jurisdictions tip pooling with back-of-house is illegal unless everyone is paid at least full minimum wage (to prevent employers from using tips to offset normal wages). So, the tip system often structurally favors certain roles and leaves others behind, reinforcing disparities within a workplace. Some restaurant owners argue this is inherently unfair. “Some servers are walking out with $600 in four hours while line cooks make $20 an hour – how is that equitable?” one restaurateur noted, pointing out that a restaurant’s success relies on all staff^[47].

All told, the current tipping culture can be seen as a lose-lose-lose proposition: Consumers feel pressured and resent the endless asks; many workers end up with erratic incomes and risk having some of their tips skimmed; and businesses face increasingly annoyed patrons and demoralized employees. Actually, there is one clear winner in this arrangement: the companies (and their shareholders) who buffer their profit margins by underpaying staff and letting gratuities fill the gap. It’s quite telling that tipping is spreading at the same time corporate profits in hospitality are robust. If tipping were truly for the workers’ benefit, we would expect to see it championed alongside rising wages, not in place of them.

The Spread of American Tipping Culture Abroad

For those outside the United States, all of this might sound perplexing or even absurd. Indeed, many countries either have no tipping culture or keep it minimal – traditionally, “service compris” (service included) has been the norm in Europe, and in places like Japan or South Korea, offering a tip can even be seen as rude. Yet, there are signs that the American style of tipping is creeping into other countries, carried by a combination of globalized technology and opportunistic businesses.

In Europe, tips have long been modest. A 10% gratuity is generous in much of Western Europe, and many places simply round up the bill or leave spare change. Workers are paid higher base wages than in the U.S., so tipping remains a true bonus. However, as tourism returns post-pandemic and digital payment systems proliferate, some European establishments – especially those frequented by American tourists – have started to import the iPad tipping screen. For example, cafes in tourist-heavy parts of Paris and Barcelona have reportedly introduced tablet-based payments that ask customers if they want to tip 5%, 10%, or more. In Paris, this trend has mostly appeared in certain anglophone or expat-run coffee shops and “hipster” bars, often catering to Americans accustomed to tipping. The local reaction has been one of confusion and irritation. A Paris-based American writer noted with dismay that “tip-creep” is inching forward in France – one day he was even prompted for a tip after buying a single banana at an airport shop^[9][48]. The suggested amounts in Paris so far remain low (e.g. 3–7% on the tablet, reflecting local norms)^[48], but the very appearance of the prompt is controversial. The French, who generally pride themselves on fair wages and included service charges, view this development as an unwelcome American export. “It feels like an imported scam wrapped in a touchscreen,” one commentator quipped, emphasizing that to French locals, generosity is supposed to be spontaneous, not digitally coerced.

In Spain, where tipping is traditionally optional and small, similar rumblings have begun. A recent news story highlighted a Barcelona bagel shop (ironically themed after London) that put out a tip jar at the register – a sight so unusual in Spain that a photo of it went viral online^[49]. The backlash on Spanish social media was swift and sharp. Locals complained that store owners were trying to “Americanize” the experience and shift rising costs onto customers via tips^[49][50]. Many Spaniards felt it was particularly egregious because customers at this shop serve themselves (pick out a pastry and pay at the counter) – tipping in such a self-service context was seen as absurd.

The general sentiment in Spain remains that employees’ wages are the employer’s responsibility, and tips – if given – are purely a voluntary “thank you”. In fact, Spanish law requires all advertised prices to include tax and service, meaning it’s technically illegal to ask for extra money beyond the listed price^[51]. A customer can leave a tip freely, but businesses cannot legally tack on a service fee or demand gratuity after the fact. This legal framework embodies a philosophy: the price you see is the price you pay for the service provided. Tipping, in this mindset, is a private gift from patron to worker, not a de facto wage mechanism. The emergence of tip prompts and jars thus clashes with both cultural norms and regulations in countries like Spain.

Perhaps the most intense pushback has been observed in South Korea, a country with no history of tipping. In South Korea, tipping has never been part of the service economy – prices are set such that service is included, and attempting to tip can sometimes cause confusion or embarrassment (many Koreans might try to refuse a tip, thinking you left your change behind by mistake). Over the past few years, though, a handful of businesses in Korea have experimented with asking for tips, largely due to exposure to Western tourists or trends. The reaction has been overwhelmingly negative. When the nation’s largest ride-hailing app Kakao T introduced an in-app tipping option in mid-2023 (allowing passengers to add a tip for their taxi driver after a ride), it ignited a media debate. A survey by a local pollster found 71.7% of Koreans were against the new tip feature, with only 17% in favor^[52]. Users complained that taxi fares were already high, and tipping was seen as a sneaky way to raise prices further^[53]. In their view, if drivers need higher income, the base fare or company commission should be adjusted – but asking passengers to voluntarily chip in extra was not well-received. A Seoul office worker was quoted saying, “It feels like asking for a tip is a way of sneakily raising the fare even higher”^[54].

The no-tipping norm in Korea is deeply ingrained, to the point that some believe making customers feel obligated to tip might violate consumer protection laws (which require full price transparency)^[51]. Korean law does not allow adding mandatory service charges on top of listed prices, and while a voluntary tip isn’t illegal, the introduction of a tip prompt starts to blur the line. Many Koreans also associate tipping with a certain hierarchical unpleasantness. Culturally, giving a tip in Korea has been perceived at times as something only a show-off or “big shot” would do to flaunt wealth, or something that could even insult a worker by implying they need charity. This is changing gradually with more global exposure, but the core belief remains that workers should be paid fairly by their employer, and the price the customer pays should be sufficient. A professor of consumer science in Seoul warned that if a dominant player like Kakao normalizes tipping, it could pressure everyone: “When the system becomes regular, a non-tipping consumer would feel guilty and reluctant… The company should reduce their cut instead of shifting the cost to consumers,” she argued^[55]. This quote perfectly encapsulates what many outside (and increasingly inside) the U.S. feel: if margins are tight, why not accept a smaller profit or charge an upfront fee, instead of introducing this social burden of tipping?

Despite resistance, the software that drives tip prompts knows no borders. As U.S.-based payment systems expand internationally, they carry tipping checkboxes with them. It often just takes one click for a business owner anywhere to enable tipping on the device. And even if local customers push back, as long as some percentage of people relent and tip, it represents essentially free money to the business (which, unless they raise wages, goes into workers’ pockets at the customers’ expense, not the company’s).

Consider that even if, say, only 15% of European customers tip when asked – a figure that would be considered a failed outcome in the U.S. – that 15% of transactions yielding, say, a 10% tip still boosts the revenue per customer noticeably with minimal cost or effort by the business. Thus, the temptation for businesses to copy the American approach is clear. We’re likely to see continued attempts to introduce tipping in places it never existed, as long as owners believe there’s money being left on the table. The backlash will also likely continue, perhaps preventing tipping culture from taking deep root abroad, or at least slowing it. But the mere fact that we are seeing these cultural collisions (Americans in Europe unsure whether to tip; Europeans dismayed at “American tipping” creeping in) shows how globally salient the tipping debate has become.

Rethinking a Broken System

The tipping culture in the U.S. today has reached a critical juncture. What was once a simple social contract – “you serve me well, I leave a little extra as thanks” – has ballooned into a complex, guilt-ridden, and often exploitive system benefiting parties it was never intended to benefit. We have to ask: Who is this system really serving? By all evidence, it’s serving corporate profit margins and relieving employers of burdens that have been shifted onto workers and customers. It is not clearly serving the customer, who faces higher effective prices and awkward social pressures; nor is it truly serving the worker in a reliable, sustainable way.

When tipping becomes essentially an alternative minimum wage – one funded by the public – it undermines the whole point of gratuities. Generosity under duress isn’t generosity at all; it’s a hidden service fee. As one critic quipped, “A tip that is morally and economically obligatory is not a tip, it’s a surcharge.”^[56] If diners feel they must tip 20% or be judged, then that tip is no longer really a gift for good service – it’s part of the price of the meal. And if that’s the case, wouldn’t it be more honest and straightforward to eliminate the charade and just pay that 20% directly to staff via higher wages or transparent service fees? Increasingly, consumers say yes. In the Bankrate survey, 41% said flatly that businesses should pay employees better rather than leaning so much on tips^[23]. In Popmenu’s poll, 62% said they’d rather pay more up-front if it meant doing away with tipping^[57]. These are significant numbers – a sign that the public recognizes the dysfunction.

In some industries and localities, changes are afoot. A number of high-profile restaurants in big U.S. cities have experimented with “no tipping” policies, instead adding a fixed service charge or raising menu prices 15–20% and using that to pay staff higher wages. Results have been mixed – some patrons and even servers resisted (servers, used to tip windfalls on good nights, sometimes prefer the gamble of tips to a flat wage). But other restaurants have persisted and found it can work, especially when they communicate the rationale to guests: namely that your server already earns a fair wage and the price you pay is all you pay. There has also been policy movement.

As mentioned, a number of states have abolished the tipped minimum wage, requiring all workers to get at least the normal state minimum hourly pay before tips. Notably, in 2024 the District of Columbia joined this group after voters overwhelmingly approved a referendum (Initiative 82) to phase in full minimum wages for tipped workers, effectively eliminating the $5.35 tipped wage there by 2027. One Fair Wage, the advocacy group, continues to push for similar measures nationwide, framing it as both an anti-poverty and anti-exploitation initiative.

Legislation is also targeting tip theft. Just recently (as of late 2024), the UK implemented a new law banning employers from keeping any portion of tips or service charges meant for staff^[58]. The law mandates that all discretionary service fees and card tips must be passed to workers, and gives workers the right to request information on tipping records to ensure fairness^[59]. This came after years of exposés of UK restaurant chains skimming off portions of tips or using service charges to cover business costs^[60].

The U.S., for its part, saw the Department of Labor under the previous administration propose a rule that might have allowed certain tip pooling that critics said opened the door to employers taking employees’ tips; a public outcry (and EPI analysis estimating it could let employers pocket $5.8 billion in workers’ tips^[61]) led to that being walked back. The current legal stance in the U.S. is that employers cannot keep tips and can only require tip pooling among non-management employees. Enforcement is the challenge – hence why robust whistleblower protections and perhaps new reporting requirements could help. Technology might even assist here: for example, digital receipts or apps could show customers “Your tip: $5 – went to [Employee Name].” That transparency would deter would-be tip skimmers.

Ultimately, however, the simplest solution is the most comprehensive: pay workers a livable wage and reserve tipping for what it used to be – a small bonus for exceptional service or kindness. “Instead of small kindnesses freely offered, we are all, unwittingly, engaged in a system of potential sanctions for subpar service,” wrote Alexander Hurst, describing how obligatory tipping perversely feels like punishing bad service rather than rewarding good service^[62][63]. The transaction between customer and worker should not be adversarial or guilt-laden; it should be straightforward and positive. A customer shouldn’t have to agonize over whether their waiter’s livelihood depends on that extra few dollars. And a barista shouldn’t have to perform emotional labor – hoping for pity tips – to make rent, they should be paid decently to begin with.

For now, American readers can navigate this situation by sticking to a personal ethos: Tip well when someone truly serves you (restaurant waitstaff, bartenders, hairdressers, drivers – especially those who rely on tips), and don’t take out frustrations on the workers. If you’re annoyed by an iPad asking for a tip on a muffin, remember the person behind the counter likely didn’t set that policy – in fact, they might be embarrassed by it, too. Some people have taken to tipping in cash whenever possible, because cash tips go directly to workers without fees and are harder for management to quietly divert. This can be a way to ensure your money reaches its intended recipient. It also has the side benefit of avoiding transaction fees that card tips sometimes incur on the business. However, it’s unfortunate that one has to strategize like this just to tip honestly.

The bigger picture is that tipping culture can only stretch so far before it snaps. The U.S. seems to be at that inflection point. We’ve seen a rapid expansion of tipping expectations in a short time, and now a clear consumer pushback. When nearly 3 in 4 Americans say tipping rules are unclear and 2 in 3 harbor negative feelings about tipping^[15][23], it signals a system out of sync with its society. The silver lining is that awareness is higher now. Media coverage, surveys, and viral stories have pulled the issue into the open. What was once just quietly grumbled about (“why am I being asked to tip here?!”) is now openly discussed. By calling out the problems – the corporate skimping, the tip creep, the awkward guilt trips – consumers and workers can push for change.

That might mean patronizing businesses that pay fair wages and don’t pressure-tip, supporting legislation for fair labor standards, or simply continuing to discuss openly that “the emperor has no clothes” when it comes to the supposed win-win of tipping. As it stands, the modern tipping model is more of a win-lose-lose (corporation-win, worker-lose, consumer-lose). Recognizing this is the first step to reform. Tipping should be about generosity, not subsidy. It works best when it’s optional and earned, not coerced.

Tipping culture has indeed reached a tipping point. The outrage and fatigue many feel are not about being stingy or unappreciative – Americans are proven to be plenty generous when it feels right. Rather, it’s about a growing realization that we’re being played by a system that has taken a good thing too far. The “guilt tipping” phenomenon is a symptom of a broken gratuity system that has strayed from its purpose. If left unchecked, it could further erode trust in service interactions and even discourage people from enjoying activities (dining out, traveling) that have become minefields of surcharge decisions. It’s time to restore some sanity: fair prices, fair wages, and tips as a genuine token of thanks when merited. Only then can tipping regain its positive meaning – as a reward for service – rather than a resented expectation.

Tip your servers, bartenders, and other service pros generously – they work hard, and none of the critique above is their fault. But as a society, let’s not allow corporations to hide behind our tips. A system that runs on guilt instead of gratitude is destined to fail both the public and the workforce. Calling it what it is – and refusing to participate in the charade of endless obligatory tipping – is how we begin to fix it. As consumers become more vocal and workers advocate for fair pay, perhaps we can tip this imbalance back toward a model that’s honest, respectful, and truly rewarding for everyone involved.

References

1. Genovese, D. (2025). Guilt tipping drops 38% in 2025 as rising costs force consumers to cut back. Fox Business. ^[5][64]
2. DeSilver, D., & Lippert, J. (2023, Nov 9). Tipping culture in America: Public sees a changed landscape. Pew Research Center. ^[6][65]
3. Kelton, K., & Lowery, B. (2025). Survey: “Out of control,” “Pay employees better” and other things Americans say about tipping. Bankrate. ^[11][66]
4. Popmenu (2025, Oct 8). 77% of consumers say tipping in the U.S. has become ridiculous, according to Popmenu’s annual study. PR Newswire. ^[3][4]
5. Kosh, K. (2025). Has U.S. tipping culture reached a tipping point? University of Houston Magazine. ^[7][31]
6. Hurst, A. (2024, Oct 7). Tipping culture is annoying, unfair and worst of all American – and now it’s coming to Paris. The Guardian. ^[9][56]
7. Butler, S., & Hickey, S. (2024, Sep 28). Restaurants ponder price increases as new tip-sharing law comes into force. The Guardian. ^[58][60]
8. Tipping culture sparks controversy among South Koreans. (2023, Aug 28). The Straits Times. ^[52][55]
9. Canham-Clyne, A. E. (2021, Sept 27). 34% of restaurant workers experienced more wage theft in 2021, OFW reports. HR Dive/Restaurant Dive. ^[39][38]
10. Cooper, D., & Kroeger, T. (2017). Employers steal billions from workers’ paychecks each year. Economic Policy Institute. ^[40]
11. Richmond Fed. (2024). Tipping: From scourge of democracy to American ritual. Econ Focus 2024 Q1/Q2. ^[8]
12. Perkins, T. (2024, Jul 26). Your food is more expensive – are US corporate profits to blame? The Guardian. ^[26][29]
13. NY Attorney General. (2025, Feb 24). Attorney General James secures $16.75 million from DoorDash for cheating delivery workers out of tips. Press Release. ^[67][42]
14. Enghagen, L. (2015). Improper tip pooling targeted in class action lawsuits. Journal of Hospitality (via HospitalityLawyer). ^[44]

^{[1] [5] [36] [64]} Guilt tipping drops 38% in 2025 as rising costs force consumers to cut back | Fox Business

https://www.foxbusiness.com/lifestyle/americans-fight-back-against-growing-guilt-tipping-pressure-digital-checkout-screens

^{[2] [3] [4] [21] [22] [34] [57]} 77% of Consumers Say Tipping in the U.S. Has Become Ridiculous, According to Popmenu’s Annual Study

https://www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/77-of-consumers-say-tipping-in-the-us-has-become-ridiculous-according-to-popmenus-annual-study-302577741.html

^{[6] [15] [16] [20] [25] [65]} Tipping Culture in America – Public Sees a Changed Landscape | Pew Research Center

^{[7] [13] [14] [31] [32] [33] [47]} Has U.S. Tipping Culture Reached a Tipping Point?

https://stories.uh.edu/magazine/magazine/online-stories/2025/has-u-s-tipping-culture-reached-a-tipping-point/index.html

^{[8] [12]} Tipping: From Scourge of Democracy to American Ritual | Richmond Fed

https://www.richmondfed.org/publications/research/econ_focus/2024/q1_q2_economic_history

^{[9] [10] [30] [35] [48] [56] [62] [63]} Tipping culture is annoying, unfair and worst of all American – and now it’s coming to Paris | Alexander Hurst | The Guardian

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/oct/07/france-paris-tipping-culture-american-bars-restaurants

^{[11] [17] [18] [19] [23] [24] [66]} Survey: ‘Out of control,’ ‘Pay employees better’ and other things Americans say about tipping | Bankrate

https://www.bankrate.com/credit-cards/news/tipping-culture-survey

^{[26] [27] [28] [29]} Your food is more expensive – are US corporate profits to blame? | Inflation | The Guardian

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/article/2024/jul/26/food-price-inflation-corporate-profit

^{[37] [38] [39]} 34% of restaurant workers experienced more wage theft in 2021, OFW reports | HR Dive

https://www.hrdive.com/news/34-of-restaurant-workers-experienced-more-wage-theft-in-2021-ofw-reports/607211

^[40] Employers steal billions from workers’ paychecks each year: Survey data show millions of workers are paid less than the minimum wage, at significant cost to taxpayers and state economies | Economic Policy Institute

https://www.epi.org/publication/employers-steal-billions-from-workers-paychecks-each-year

^{[41] [42] [43] [67]} Attorney General James Secures $16.75 Million from DoorDash for Cheating Delivery Workers Out of Tips

https://ag.ny.gov/press-release/2025/attorney-general-james-secures-1675-million-doordash-cheating-delivery-workers

^[44] Improper Tip Pooling Targeted in Class Action Lawsuits – HospitalityLawyer.com®

^[45] Starbucks settlement with New York City will give backpay … – abc7NY

https://abc7ny.com/post/nyc-announces-389m-settlement-starbucks-baristas-worker-protection-lawsuit/18234024

^[46] Mayor Adams, DCWP Announce $38 Million Settlement … – NYC.gov

https://www.nyc.gov/site/dca/news/032-25/mayor-adams-dcwp-38-million-settlement-starbucks-largest-worker-protection

^{[49] [50] [51] [52] [53] [54] [55]} Tipping culture sparks controversy among South Koreans | The Straits Times

https://www.straitstimes.com/asia/east-asia/tipping-culture-sparks-controversy-among-south-koreans

^{[58] [59] [60]} Restaurants ponder price increases as new tip-sharing law comes into force | Travel & leisure | The Guardian

https://www.theguardian.com/business/2024/sep/28/restaurants-ponder-price-increases-as-new-tip-sharing-law-comes-into-force

^[61] Employers would pocket $5.8 billion of workers’ tips under Trump …

https://www.epi.org/publication/employers-would-pocket-workers-tips-under-trump-administrations-proposed-tip-stealing-rule