“So what’s my rating?” I asked the Uber driver at the behest of my friend. There are other ways to find out your Uber rider rating, but you can usually learn how you are judged on a scale from one to five just by asking a driver.

“Well [long, uncomfortable pause], it looks like you’re a 4.6,” she told me.

What? Everybody knows anything less than five stars when it comes to virtual ratings is a scarlet letter. How is this possible? I looked into Stuart Smalley’s mirror for answers. Let’s see... I don’t overcrowd. I haven’t barfed out the window. I’m on time, and I like to think I’m at least somewhat affable. Yeah, I pretty much tick all Uber’s official boxes on what makes a good passenger.

“That sounds bad,” I said, looking for some emotional support.

“It’s not good,” she fired back.

“ “Uber is fully aware of the confusion that exists in the marketplace regarding the tips.” ” — Joseph De Wolf Sandoval

I had to know. So I asked her, point blank: “Why don’t they like me?” The last time I said something that pathetic was back in middle school.

A nice lady, she thought about it for a while, as if deciding whether to go where she was about to go. Then she went there. “Do you... tip?”

Tip? My Uber driver? Ridiculous. That’s why I, along with presumably many others, love the service. A transaction-free ride. No need for cash. Hop in, hop out. I chalked this conversation up to one driver trying to squeeze a buck out of me. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Next time I took an Uber with a friend, I had her ask about her rating. She was a 4.1. The horror. She freaked out just like I did. We asked the driver. He said the same thing. Tipping. If you don’t, you just might get dinged. Of course, getting dinged is no big deal. While drivers could decide not to pick up some schmuck with a low rating, another driver eventually well.

But still.

I went to the company, hoping for some clarification on this troubling development. The official response: “With Uber there is no need to tip. Once you arrive at your destination, your fare is automatically charged to your credit card on file, making for a cashless and seamless experience.”

That’s what I thought. Vindicated. I then ran an informal poll of friends and co-workers. The answers ran the gamut from “I’d stop using Uber if that were the case” to “Of course I tip.”

A survey of the online landscape offers up a similarly muddled response. Many assume the tip is included, but that’s not the case either, and Uber doesn’t exactly go out of its way to make it clear. That’s not sitting well with some drivers.

“Uber is fully aware of the confusion that exists in the marketplace regarding the tips,” writes Joseph De Wolf Sandoval, who heads up the California App-based Drivers Association. He’s one of many who believe there should be an in-app means to tipping, like the one used by rival Lyft.

In the meantime, a third party has stepped in with a potential solution.

While there are questions surrounding the effectiveness of virtual tipping (that is, tipping when the driver is no longer in sight), it hasn’t stopped more than 20,000 people from signing a petition asking Uber to make it possible.

“I’ve been an Uber driver for 2.5 years, and I have a great working relationship with the company,” says Peter Faris, the man waging the campaign. “Often, passengers tell me they’d like to provide a tip. But if they don’t have cash, they can’t do so through the Uber app.”

Earlier this year, Uber released some stats detailing how its drivers make considerably more than their taxi counterparts. Hence, no need for tips. But many drivers contend they don’t even clear minimum wage, particularly since Uber slashed rates in January.

Confusion reigns. But one thing is clear: Drivers accept tips and, at least anecdotally, a growing number seem to be expecting them. At the same time, part of Uber’s appeal for many has always been that hassle-free alternative to the status quo. No cash. No signing. No receipts.

Now we’re getting judged negatively for it.