Columnist Scott Dickensheets: Of gratuitous gratuities and ticked tippers

Scott Dickensheets

Friday, Oct. 24, 1997 | 9:39 a.m.

HELLO, WAITER, my name is Scott, and I'll be your disgruntled patron this evening. I'm here with eight friends and family members and we've just noticed this peculiarity on our bills: an automatic 15 percent gratuity for parties our size. Taking the worry out of our hands, you thoughtful restauranteurs have already added it to our tab. Hey, thanks!

Yes, indeed, a big thanks to the Olive Garden in Green Valley for sparing me the brain-sweat of calculating 15 percent -- a scary bit of math I often avoid by tipping 20 percent. I might have done so this time, too; it was my kid's birthday, I was in a good mood and my natural generosity was ready to assert itself. Then comes the bill and I see that management has already asserted it for me. Hackles up! Sorry, man, 15 percent is it tonight. Maybe I'll drop the other 5 percent on you when I'm here with a smaller party and can decide the amount for myself.

It's not entirely fair to pick on one restaurant, of course; many have this policy. And to a degree you can understand why; cheapskates travel in packs. The automatic gratuity "began in response to requests from our employees," says Olive Garden corporate spokeswoman Cathie Weinberg. "They were telling us they were being taken advantage of, particularly by large groups."

And my party certainly knew the extra charge was coming; habitual readers of the fine print, we'd caught the liiittle notation at the bottom of the menu: "For your convenience, a 15 percent gratuity ..." So caveat emptor and all that.

Yet it still seems wrong, a sign of bad faith and a presumption of my role in the transaction. Me: tipper. You: tippee. The basic dynamic here is that I decide how much to leave.

Cap those poison pens, letter-to-the-editor-writing waitpersons; this isn't another tired debate on the merits of tipping. Rather, this is an issue of consumer rage -- or at least consumer mild annoyance -- and if no one's exactly vowing You can have my 15 percent when you pry it from my cold, dead, olive-oil-smeared fingers, there are at least a few questions to be posed:

If Jason Your Waiter knows he's going to get his 15 percent regardless, what's his motivation to deliver good service? If the guest doesn't notice the auto-gratuity and double tips, does Jason Your Waiter keep the overage? If a large party gets separate checks, is it still a large party or simply smaller parties at the same table?

Thanks to my amazing Zen-like penchant for accepting the universe as it is -- a trait my wife admiringly refers to as "laziness" -- I didn't quibble over the service fee at Olive Garden.

Maybe I will next time. It's not that I'm a cheapskate (I prefer "stingy fella"; it's a personality defect that stems from having no money). Like everything else with grumpy lifestyle columnists, it's a philosophical issue. I'm weary of being permanently coiled in anxious caveat emptor, my consumer awareness on continual red alert: Am I being screwed? And before you think, Well waahh, I admit that it's a small matter; that's why it's so annoying. Corporate whims rule our lives in so many large ways that it's insulting when they try to do it in small ones.

In this instance, however, you can actually do something about it, although nothing in the menu tells you this: "You can just scratch the tip out," says Weinberg. Hey, thanks!