Trip tips to thwart tip trips

Press, 4 August 1987, Page 34

Trip tips to thwart tip trips

By

SUSAN KUROSAWA,

of Sydney

I learned a very important lesson a few years ago when I arrived in New Orleans pip on time for mardi gras but my bags flew solo to Cleveland. It wasn’t an airline mix-up: I just neglected to tip the kerbside baggage handler at San Francisco Airport. He had swooped on me as soon as I got out of the taxi, asked for my airline ticket and proceeded to tag the bags at a check-in desk near the door to the terminal. I had no idea I was meant to tip for such a straightforward service. I continued to the seat allocation counter, boarded the aircraft and off I flew, little realising I had not a sequinned carnival costume or pink feathered mask to my name. The United States has to be the most perplexing place on earth when it comes to tipping. I recently heard about a Manhattan taxi driver who installed an internal locking device on the passenger doors and wouldn’t let anyone out until they parted with an acceptable tip. (It may be an urban myth as I’ve since heard the story applied to resourceful London cabbies, but it is a most believable tale).

I’ve been chased out of a roughtrade New York diner because I left a quarter as a tip for bad coffee and old

cake. I’ve also been forced to skip dinner because I parted with all my available cash to tip an intimidating Chicago hotel porter who looked a cross between Tarzan and Conan The Barbarian. And he still dropped the case on my toe. Literature provided by U.S. tourism authorities suggests a 20 percent tip in big-city restaurants, an average of $2 for bell-hops, and 25 percent of the fare for metropolitan taxi drivers. If you object to all that, a Quantas kangaroo pin and a rousing g’day have been known to work small miracles, even in Manhattan.

Things are a mite simpler in Asia and Western Europe. Service charges are generally added in restaurants and clubs (look for “service compris” “incluso” or "eingeschlossen” printed on the bill) and the average charge is 15 per cent. Porters are usually content with the equivalent of 50 cents per bag (best double that amount if you’re travelling with your son’s rock collection or your entire wardrobe of designer ski-wear); if the room attendant is hovering with intent as you prepare to check out of

your hotel, best fork out, say, $1 for each day of your stay, or a maximum of $5.

Depending on the size and surliness of any taxi driver, round off the fare to the nearest dollar, and then quickly fumble for more change if he stubs out his cigar on your hand. Always ensure you are well armed with plenty of loose change. When you first arrive at a destination, cash a traveller’s cheque at the airport and insist on an assortment of low-denomi-nation notes and a reasonable number of coins. That way you won’t be faced with the dilemma of either tipping the hotel doorman the equivalent of a SSO note or pleading no change and risking sour service for the duration of your stay. Just to illustrate different attitudes to tipping, there are signs in the USSR trumpeting: “DO NOT TIP. DO NOT INSULT YOUR FELLOW MAN.” In the United States, however, notices in airport shuttle buses warn: “GRATUITIES ARE NOT INCLUDED IN THE FARE.”

In Japan, a tip is often considered a dishonourable bribe (unless, that is,

you’re wooing a fluttering maiden in the sort of downtown Tokyo nightclub where not-so-honourable rules, and ruses apply). In soporific places such as Western Samoa, taxi drivers follow passengers into their hotels to insist they take the change from their fares. If you’re violently opposed to tiping, better stick to those countries where the process is considered undignified. The world is hardly going to be your oyster but it does leave you with Japan, and a swag of South Pacific islands (including, surprisingly, Tahiti which has a reputation for being expensive), most Eastern European countries, and the majority of developing African nations.

Members of American anti-tipping groups leave printed “certificates of appreciation” instead of cash gratuities, and I’ve heard of special "zero cent” coins which bear the motto “Give nothing. Get nothing”.

Such tactics are reserved, of course, only for the bravest and biggest of travellers. If you intend to practise such behaviour in any one of the 50 states of America, may I suggest you hire a bodyguard and always travel with a carrybag stuffed with spare underwear and your best mardi gras ensemble. Just in case.