Tipping, of course, is not a practice that’s unique to Las Vegas. It’s only magnified here. “Las Vegas didn’t invent the idea,” says Anthony Curtis, a gambling expert and publisher behind the all-encapsulating Las Vegas Advisor website and newsletter.
“We just put the idea on steroids.”
It’s true. The practice is not only widespread in town, with tips beseeched by taxi drivers, valet attendants, doormen, bellmen, waiters, bartenders, baristas, barbers and hair stylists, tow-truck drivers, casino dealers, strippers, nightclub hosts, cocktail waitresses, grocery-store baggers, maids, massage therapists, whores, dog groomers and car washers; but it’s extravagant here, too. After spending hundreds of dollars for bottle service at a nightclub on the Strip, party-goers are liable to tip hundreds more to doormen, VIP hosts and cocktail waitresses.
Our city’s economy is rooted in cash transfers, says Dr. Keith Schwer, the director of the Center for Business and Economic Research at UNLV, and tipping is a natural evolution of that. And it’s not limited to tourists.
“If anything,” says Curtis, “more is expected out of locals: They are supposed to understand the culture.”
All of which, then, makes the experimental idea of not tipping an interesting one.
I gave it a try. Taking a weekend to frequent cash-based businesses, and using nothing but cash, I made a deliberate effort to withhold all tips, just to see the effects.
“Since, in most cases, tip income is a person-to-person transaction rather than a business-to-employee transaction, the assessment of the crucial contribution of tips to the local economy is anecdotal,” says Schwer.
That’s exactly what I discovered.
At the Roadrunner Saloon, I was the only one sitting at the bar the afternoon I went. Looking around, I said to the bartender: “Days like these must hurt the pocketbook, huh?”
“Not necessarily,” he said, drawing a little closer to me: “All it takes is one good tipper.”
I coughed. “Do you all expect everyone to tip?”
“Uhhh … yeah.”
“Because it’s proper etiquette, or because your livelihood depends on it?”
“You should just tip, that’s all.”
When I walked out with all the change from the bill in my pocket, I didn’t look back.
My heart rate was jacked. I could feel adrenaline pushing me toward the door. It was as if I had just committed a criminal act. Like stealing.
We are all expected to tip, because that’s how many in the service industry make their income. This truism is expounded in us from early on. While in a taxi, driving down the Strip, I asked the driver about it.
“How much am I supposed to tip?” I said.
“Oh … I don’t know, my friend.”
“What’s fair, do you think? I mean, I already paid $3.30 just to get in.”
“We have to pay our own gas!” he erupted. “There’s so many competition! We make no money! I live in a apartment! I barely pay rent!”
So I closed my eyes and made pretend that I was elsewhere when, my change in hand, I stepped out of the taxicab without leaving him a dime extra on a $14.30 fare. As I walked away, I tried to justify my parsimony in a vain attempt to reassure myself that I wasn’t a bad person.
Curtis says the casinos set the paradigm: pay employees minimum wage and let the customers cover the rest of their earnings. It’s become a social contract.
But I never signed. What if we started a revolution, by refraining from tipping everyone: Would employers in town then have to pay employees more, lest the taxi driver cease being a taxi driver?
If refusing to tip is difficult while alone, it is almost impossible when on a date.
I took her to Spago, in the Forum Shops, without telling her my agenda for the end of the meal. However, the receipt folder fell to the ground as we were getting up to leave, and she picked it up.
“Where’s the tip?” she asked. “You’re not leaving a tip?”
I dealt her a barrage of pretexts, and I felt my face flush.
“Leave a tip,” she said. “You don’t stiff someone on a $100 bill.”
“As opposed to a $10 bill?”
“You’ll never be able to show your face here again.”
“There are thousands of alternatives in town.”
“Joshua: Leave a tip.”
“Sorry.”
“Fine, I’ll leave the tip.”
“Don’t.”
“I am.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She pulled out her credit card, which was all she had, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since that disastrous night.
“Boycotting the act of tipping will never be more than a hypothetical,” says Curtis.
“Because people out here, especially in the service industry, feel too much internal force to take care of their own.”
That, I can attest, is true.