Due to my habit of buying crap cars and not maintaining them, I periodically find myself without transportation, necessitating a cab ride. (Fortunately, I live quite close to my job.)
I do tip cabbies, usually. (I was always under the impression that they had to pay big $$ to lease their cabs and needed the tips to cover the nut. Maybe it’s different in the U.K.) However, when I get in a cab with some idiot who drives 50 mph down my dead end residential street after I’ve repeatedly asked him not to because most of the people in my neighborhood have free-range cats (and a number of them are three-legged and slow moving due to a bad litter one cat had) he’s likely to find himself getting a much smaller tip. (I would stiff guys like that completely, but I live alone, and they know where I live. Call me paranoid.) My favorite was the idiot who did this and had a big sign in his cab that said “We live on our tips.” Well, you have a choice – drive too fast and dangerously in hopes of increasing your volume business, or get a tip. I also had one who made all kinds of stupid jokes after I told him to avoid runnning over the kitties, but I suspected that he was mentally ill.
Sorry for the hijack, but those guys drive me CRAZY!!!
I won over a really crabby waitress by overtipping her for a couple of YEARS (I usually give her $2.00 on a $6.00 breakfast check because I figure she doesn’t get as much $$ working breakfast). Now she keeps those teabags a comin’.
I don’t like tip jars because they’re too much like an outstretched palm. Nonetheless, they fail to send me into paroxysms of fear and indecision. I just ignore them. (I particularly hate tip jars in places where the OWNER is the one doing the serving.)