THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 18, 1996 TAG: 9608150053
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY WENDY GROSSMAN, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: 124 lines
LAURA GALLAGHER, a bartender and server at Chili's in Virginia Beach, is fast. That's why she gets good tips. Standing on her step ladder in frayed Levis and black sneakers, she chats with the regulars in the corner as she lines up bottles of Kahlua and creme de menthe. Her hands never slow down. She's fast. And her tip jar's almost full.
The word ``TIP'' comes from England. Before the postal service was established, businessmen communicated by letters sent via stage coach drivers. ``To Insure Promptness,'' they'd ante up a shilling or two.
Over the years, tipping has become a reward for folks who do an especially good job. If the waiter doesn't spill soup on your trousers or makes you laugh, you leave a gratuity.
But tips aren't just rewards for especially good service. Many waiters, bartenders, skycaps, cabbies, valets and shoeshine boys depend on tips to supplement meager salaries.
``I get $2.15 an hour - it doesn't seem legal, does it?'' Gallagher says.
Not really.
``People don't realize that we don't make anything but the tips,'' says Stephen Pezzulich, 22, a server at The Dumbwaiter in Norfolk. ``When they don't tip us, it takes money out of our pockets.''
Their minimal salary is enough to cover the taxes they have to pay on tips. If they don't get a tip, they still pay the tax. And they don't make any money.
Standard tips today are between 15 and 20 percent. A $20 restaurant tab should earn a waiter $3-4. Anything less than 15 percent ends up costing them money, waiters say.
``If we don't get 15 percent we're paying to serve them,'' says Paige Bashore, a waitress at the Colley Cantina in Norfolk.
Tipping causes a great deal of anxiety for most people because there are no hard and fast rules. ``The Amy Vanderbilt Book of Etiquette'' provides only two guidelines: No tip is ever required; and good tips given with a smile and a thank you will get you better service next time.
Or as Pezzulich explains it, if you stiff him and he remembers you when you walk in the next time, he'll give the table away.
Not everyone tips.
Matt Jennings, lead valet at the Marriott in Norfolk, says that three out of four people tip. Usually just a buck or two.
His best tip was $70, he recalls: A man's wife took their sick child back home to New York. Accidentally, she also took the keys to his Mercedes. Jennings ran around town and got an alternate key made by a local Mercedes dealer.
The grateful guy pressed into Jennings' hand three crumpled $20s and a $10.
Days like that are rare. More often he gets stiffed. And that doesn't make him happy.
``It's annoying,'' he says. ``You do something for someone, and you do it well - you expect something in return.''
That something doesn't have to be cash. His co-workers have gotten T-shirts, lottery tickets, backstage concert passes, 12-packs of beer. And massages.
``It doesn't have to be money for a tip to be good,'' Jennings says.
But some don't welcome alternative tips like phone numbers and save-your-soul pamphlets.
``That's nice, but it's not going to pay my rent,'' Pezzulich says.
Richelle Williams, a room-service delivery person at the Marriott, also prefers cash. Room service has an automatic 17 percent gratuity, so a lot of times she just gets a thank you.
After carrying up a full dinner for five and getting no additional tip she runs back to the kitchen and grumbles, ``He told me, `Thank you.' Don't thank me. Give me a tip.''
But she always smiles to the person's face. So does Paul Martens, who delivers pizza for Papa John's. He says that he always wants to turn around and ask someone who stiffs him, `Didn't you get paid when you went to work today?' Yes? So why not pay me?' ''
Having to make a living off tips can be demeaning, Pezzulich says. He hates it when people give him money and ask if it's a good enough tip.
``That's really tacky,'' he says. ``It's hard enough to work for tips - it makes you feel like a humble servant or a beggar. And people do very little to relieve that. It empowers them to know they have something on you.''
But there's one thing everyone who works for tips agrees on.
The better the tip, the better the service.
``People who take care of me, I rush right back and take care of them,'' says Ben Cohen, sitting in his yellow cab 50 yards from the Marriott.
His best tipper is an 85-year-old ``regular'' whom he escorts to the beauty parlor and the supermarket. Her tip always matches the cab fare.
When Cohen is on the tipping end, he says he'll give a bartender or waiter ``at least 25 percent.''
If there's anything that gets a waiter angry, says Pezzulich, it's getting one of those cards that says the servicve was fine, but the person doesn't believe in tipping.
Those folks just don't understand, Pezzulich says.
``If the tip system didn't exist, then the food would cost more and the service wouldn't be as good because the servers would know that they're making their money either way,'' Pezzulich says.
Tips make you work harder.
But, no matter how hard you work, you can still get stiffed, Laura Gallagher says.
``Last night I had two ladies and a child who got extra good service,'' she says. ``They made a huge mess. Food was on the floor and everywhere. Then they left 50 cents short of their tab - so they cost me money.''
Jennings says businessmen aren't as likely to throw you a five as a tourist who's living it up for a week. Martens says guys who have been drinking all night give the best tip when the pizza finally comes. And Gallagher's learned that ``two women out together don't tip a woman as good. Men get better tips than chicks - especially from women,'' she says.
Gallagher tosses her tips in a Bailey's Irish Cream cannister she keeps behind the cash register. It's more than half-filled on this Friday evening.
``I take my change tips and put 'em in my son's college fund,'' she says. ``In six months I made him $700. He's 15 months old.''
But tip or no tip, what matters to Gallagher is doing a good job.
It's nearly 11:30 p.m. when Jodie Smith, a regular who's been sitting at the bar since 6 p.m., asks for her bill. She's had a turkey and Swiss sandwich - no mayo - and has been drinking bourbon and Cokes. The tab is $9 for her and her date. They leave $2.75.
Gallagher scoops it up and drops it in her tip jar. ILLUSTRATION: VICTOR VAUGHAN COLOR PHOTOS
``If we don't get 15 percent, we're paying to serve THEM,'' says
Paige Bashore, a Norfolk waitress. A server's salary is minimal,
enough to cover the taxes on tips.
``Friday and Saturday are the best days for tips,'' says Paul Eden,
a valet at the Marriott in Norfolk. The Old Dominion University
senior has worked as a valet for a year. A co-worker at the hotel
says three out of four people tip - usually just a dollar or two. by CNB