As a professional blogger and podcaster who’s been fortunate enough to travel the globe and spend long periods of time at some of the nicest and most exclusive international resorts, it never fails to shock me how much Americans feel obligated to tip their servers and delivery drivers. It seems like every time I’m out for a bite with my friends in the states, at least one person scoffs or grimaces when I suggest that leaving a tip isn’t necessary (ironically, it’s usually one of the poorer ones in the group). If you can’t afford to not get tipped then maybe, just maybe, you should stop relying on tips in order to make a livable wage.

Here’s a quick list of ten reasons why I won’t tip you if you’re a waiter or delivery driver:

1. You act is if you’re my best friend

Even if you are my friend in real life (spoiler alert: you’re not), then never, under any circumstances, try to treat my dining experience as an excuse to chit chat with me. I’m solely here to eat and have solicited conversations with my companions who don’t have shitty jobs, not socialize with waitresses or tell you how “everything’s going right now.” You’re my temporary food robot, not my friend or acquaintance.

2. You’re an asshole

This one is self explanatory, but it seems like a lot of people limit the quality of ”being an asshole” to just overt rudeness or disrespect. Not the case. If you condescendingly ask me a question like “How’s everything tasting?” while I’m still waiting for my French onion soup to cool down or orally assessing the structure and flavors of my Sauvignon blanc, then congratulations - you’re not only an asshole, but you’re now a tipless asshole.

3. You act as if you’re not my former Prom date

This one has always been one of my biggest pet peeves. If we shared one of the greatest moments of my life together and you can’t even acknowledge that fact...let alone you try pretend like I wasn’t the peak of your romantic life, then why should I pretend like you deserve $3.50 just for carrying a two-and-a-half-pound porterhouse a few yards and plopping it on my table? It was a barely even a decade ago. Don’t act like you forget.

4. You played no role in making or preparing the food

Did you personally grill the steak or manually mash the potatoes or even roast the asparagi? Did you personally grow any of the ingredients in my meal or cultivate/sow the land in which they were grown? If not, then why should I reward you for the quality of my meal? You’re the equivalent of a conveyor belt, except lower and rustier.

5. You’re an attractive woman who’s dressing provocatively

I don’t care if it’s your “mandatory work attire,” the last thing I want to look at when I’m scarfing down some grub is an unsolicited pair of gigantic tits, inches from my face. The funniest and most pathetic thing about this archetype of waitress is that they dressed like Marie Antoinette to a once-in-a-lifetime high school dance with a 2x conference champ, but feel the need to show 90% of their skin and breasts just to serve some fellas chicken wings and potato skins?

6. You’re a man

As a straight guy through and through, the last thing I need on my plate is another fucking dude thinking I wanna suck him off because I threw him some cash for doing the bare minimum. Forget about it, pussy. If you want a tip that bad, you’re gonna have to weasel your way into the pockets of my corduroy slims and fish out the cash yourself.

7. You act “tired” or ”stressed”

The dramatic huffing and puffing, the wiping of fictitious sweat off the forehead, the “apologizing“ for being so out of breath...I’ve seen it all and I’m begging you primadonnas to cut the act. As someone who lives on the top floor of a Manhattan walk-up, I’m constantly dealing with those silly charades from delivery boys/girls, and it’s always an express ticket to a zero dollar and zero cent tip.

8. You delivered my food via automobile



So you can afford a car, gas, oil changes, tire rotations, and general upkeep, but you can’t afford to continue making $3 per hour without any tips? Where’s the logic?

9. Your fiancé is an orthopedic surgeon

You share a home and bank account with someone who makes “great money” just from tinkering around with teen teeth and you expect me to toss you extra money just for handing me plates and cups? What am I even funding? Your dream honeymoon to St. Lucia that you’ve been planning and fantasizing with him since 2013? You’re gonna have to pry that tip out of my statistically averaged-sized male hands.

Ok, that’s all I could fit in this blog. And before everyone gets all upset....Yes, I drew inspiration from this article but no, I didn’t “plagiarize” it. I just didn’t think that five reasons were enough to do my opinions on the matter justice.