When life in Montreal started to get back to normal after the harsh and unnecessary COVID lockdowns, my girlfriend and I went to a bar downtown. We were excited as bars and restaurants were open, people were out, and it felt good to be part of the city’s rhythm again. This was a much needed night out and being back in the action felt great. We ordered drinks and the service was a little slow but I still gave a decent tip. Unfortunately, the waitress wasn’t having it. She started by looking at the amount and making faces. Then she looked up at me and said “Oh, you must be a tourist, people in Montreal are high tippers.” Not falling for this bullshit statement, I told her I’m from Montreal and that Montrealers are not particularly good tippers. In fact, I often hear the opposite. I literally hand over a few more dollars and she complained again, not wanting to go away. Finally, she angrily said that no one would serve us and walked away. Needless to say, after the pandemic, servers were hungry to earn money again and when our drinks were empty, someone else happily came over to us to get that second round.
Recent Study Says Canadians Have Had Enough
Tipping in traditional places is now expected to be higher than ever., Moreover, a recent H&R Block study revealed what most of us already suspected: A whopping 94% of Canadians are fed up with being asked to tip for things that never used to require one, like grabbing a coffee or picking up a muffin. Yet despite the collective eye-roll, 57% admit they still feel too awkward to hit “no tip” and end up tapping a few extra dollars out of guilt. That’s not surprising, considering that many Canadians tend to avoid confrontation and prefer to keep the peace, even if it means saying yes when they’d rather say no. It’s a sad state of affairs but I digress.
When did buying cookies start needing a tip?
At least anecdotally, I can assure you that tipping at random places is getting out of control. I stopped by a Crumbl cookie shop in Ottawa, and after I placed my order, the cashier flipped the payment tablet around so I could select a tip amount. A tip! For what, exactly? She asked me what cookies I wanted and rang me through. That’s it. I had already paid a premium for the cookies, so I know the money’s going somewhere. But it should be coming from the owner, not the customer. What service am I tipping for here? When I tapped “No Tip,” she gave me a dirty look, like I’d done something wrong. But I wasn’t rude. I was just refusing to play along with a system that keeps pushing the boundaries of what tipping was ever meant to be.
it should be coming from the owner, not the customer
The Tipping Expectation
It’s time to rethinking tipping culture. Who is really responsible for wages? Tipping has long been embedded in North American dining culture. Whether you’re grabbing coffee or enjoying a three-course meal, the expectation is clear: Leave a tip, usually somewhere between 10% and 20%. But lately, more and more people are questioning the fairness and logic of this system. And frankly, it’s about time.
When Tips Become Wages
Many waiters, bartenders, and delivery staff rely on tips to make a living wage. In some regions, tipped workers earn a base pay below minimum wage, with the assumption that tips will make up the difference. This puts enormous pressure on customers to effectively subsidize wages that business owners aren’t paying.
It’s Not the Customer’s Job
Let’s be clear: Workers should be paid fairly for their labour. But that responsibility should not fall on the shoulders of guests. If a customer pays for their meal and leaves a standard tip, they’ve done their part. The onus is not on them to make sure staff earn a living. Rather, it’s on the business owner. If tips aren’t meeting that need, it’s not the customer who should be blamed or guilted. It’s the employer who should be questioned. If your restaurant cannot afford to pay the extra 20% or so to wait staff, then it’s not charging enough or is not a viable business. That’s reality. In any other business, not being able to afford to pay staff fair value for their work would easily be labeled as unsustainable.
Tipping Should Match the Task
I’m more than happy to tip when it makes sense. If I’m getting a pedicure, for example, absolutely. I’ll leave a little extra. The specialist is doing detailed, skilled work on a part of the body that most people prefer to ignore. (For the record, my feet are in great shape but I can only imagine what they deal with daily.) That kind of hands-on, attentive service deserves appreciation. But tipping someone just for being a cashier? No, that’s where I draw the line. Scanning items and taking payment is a simple job that just about anyone can do. It isn’t the same as providing a personal, specialized service. Let’s not pretend it is.
How The System Became Broken
Tipping was never meant to replace wages. Yet over time, it has become a way for business owners to offload their labour costs onto the public. In doing so, they create a system where employees feel they must earn their pay through charm, hustle, and the hope that each customer is generous. This not only creates financial instability for workers but also builds tension and awkwardness into service relationships. I have even noticed that many waiters hover over you as you press one of the tipping options. I assume that in some cases, this is to intimidate you and guilt you into giving a higher tip, or even a tip at all.
The Math Isn’t Mathing Anymore
Part of the problem with tipping today is that the percentages are completely out of whack. Back when meals were more affordable, pre-pandemic, and tipping percentages hovered around 10–15% and the final tip amount felt reasonable. But now? Meal prices have skyrocketed, and the expected tip is often 18–25% or more. That means you’re tipping way more in absolute dollars, even if the service hasn’t improved. The total just doesn’t make sense anymore. It’s not about being cheap. It’s about how inflated the whole system has become.
Is the tip really reflecting the work?
Let’s talk about the actual amount of work being done. In some high-end restaurants, the service may seem polished, but when you break it down, what is the server really doing? They take your order, bring your food, ask if you need anything, clear the plates, maybe top up your water, offer dessert, and drop the bill. That’s about seven short trips to the table. Maybe ten minutes of actual engagement. Yet, on a $150 meal, you’re expected to tip $30 for what’s essentially walking back and forth to the kitchen a few times. That’s a huge payout for a routine flow of tasks.
Now compare that to someone working in a less expensive spot, doing the same amount of physical work (or more) for a fraction of the tip. The system rewards higher bills, not necessarily harder work. That disconnect is part of why tipping feels more frustrating than ever.
And it’s true that some waiters are just better than others. As someone who eats out fairly often, I see the difference. But in those cases, where the individual is exceptional, they get an exceptional tip.
A Better Way Forward
What would a better system look like? Some restaurants are already experimenting with alternatives: Eliminating tipping, raising menu prices slightly, and paying staff a stable, livable wage, sometimes with benefits. I was recently at Larrys, a restaurant in Montreal that has been tip-free for several years. Of course, the service was good and I left a small tip on top of the meal anyways. These models shift the responsibility to where it belongs, on the employer. And the result? Happier employees, more transparent pricing, and a dining experience free from the pressure of calculating the “right” amount to tip.
Tipping Is Not a Requirement, It’s Earned
Here’s a reality check: tipping is optional. It’s meant to be a reward for good service, not an automatic surcharge added to your meal. And yet, many people, myself included, feel pressured to tip the standard amount even when service is far from exceptional.
I’ve often thought about making a list of tip deductions. For example, if I have to ask for water, that’s a basic oversight. Attentive service should include checking on something as simple as an empty glass. If I have to ask for napkins, condiments, or cutlery, it shows I’m not being fully attended to. That doesn’t warrant a 22% tip. It calls for a second look at the service itself.
The frustrating part is that this kind of subpar service is becoming more common, but the social pressure to tip generously hasn’t changed. So, even when the experience is lackluster, many of us still tip out of guilt rather than satisfaction. It’s a broken equation: Poor service plus social pressure equals undeserved reward. And the cycle continues.
The Tip Machine Trap
Recently, I was out watching the Habs during the playoffs with a buddy. We had a great time, until the bill came. The server handed us the payment machine, and the preset tip options started at 18% and went up to 25%. My friend took one look and said, “I refuse to give more than 10% to greedy restaurants that have the nerve to start so high.”
And he’s not alone. These preset tipping screens are designed to make you feel cheap for choosing anything less than the highest options. It’s psychological manipulation dressed up in convenience. A fun night out shouldn’t end with a guilt trip at the checkout screen.
When You Can’t Even Change the Tip
Even worse? Some machines make it nearly impossible, or flat-out impossible, to adjust the tip amount. Sometimes there’s no “custom tip” option, or it’s buried under a confusing interface. This forces people to either overtip or awkwardly ask the server for another way to pay. That’s not just inconvenient, it’s disrespectful to the customer.
Forcing tips through design tricks only increases frustration and distrust, and it undermines the spirit of tipping entirely
You shouldn’t need a tutorial to decide how much gratitude you want to show. Forcing tips through design tricks only increases frustration and distrust, and it undermines the spirit of tipping entirely. If you’re providing great service, let the tip reflect that. Don’t hide behind a screen that corners people into paying more than they intended.
Tipping on Tax: The Hidden Cost
One of the most frustrating aspects of tipping today is the practice of calculating tips on the total bill after tax. You might think you’re leaving a generous 15% tip, but if it’s applied to the taxed amount, you’re actually tipping closer to 17%. This subtle shift adds up over time and feels deceptive, especially when it’s not disclosed.
Fortunately, Quebec has taken steps to address this issue. As of May 7, 2025, Bill 72 mandates that suggested tips must be calculated on the pre-tax amount. This change aims to make tipping more transparent and prevent customers from unknowingly tipping on taxes. For example, on a $100 bill with taxes, a 15% tip should be $15, not $17.25 as it would be if calculated on the after-tax total. We will never get back all of the tipping funds we were duped into paying in the past, but it’s a start.
This legislation is a positive move toward fairness, ensuring that customers are tipping based on the value of the service, not the added tax. It’s a reminder that transparency in tipping practices benefits both patrons and service workers.
Generosity Is Not Obligation
Until this model becomes more widespread, tipping is still part of the culture. Many guests will continue to tip, often generously, because they know the worker relies on it. But we shouldn’t confuse generosity with responsibility. If someone tips 20%, they’re not being stingy, they’re being more than fair. If that still leaves a worker short, the issue isn’t with the guest. It’s with the system.
Tipping Pressure Is Real, But You Don’t Have to Give In
There’s so much social pressure these days to leave a tip, and not just any tip, but a big one. Everywhere you go, it feels like someone’s flipping around an iPad expecting an extra 20% for doing their job and/or the bare minimum. I get it, it can be awkward to hit “no tip” while someone watches. But here’s the truth: if you don’t feel comfortable tipping in that moment and still do it anyway, that’s on you. If a screen guilts you into handing over money you didn’t plan to give, that’s not generosity, it’s just giving in. Stand your ground. Tipping should be a choice, not a social obligation.
The Bottom Line
It’s time to stop blaming customers for a problem they didn’t create. Instead, let’s start holding businesses accountable for treating their staff with the dignity and compensation they should be receiving.
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