A Tip for the Non-Tippers

“I don’t tip” Mr Pink utters in the iconic tipping scene at the opening of Reservoir Dogs “No I don’t believe in it.” Choosing not to tip is something society looks down upon. Being a non-tipper lies somewhere between smoking and having a mullet in the social scale of societal acceptability.

But why is this the case?

In America they operate by a system where the employee earns a basic wage which is less than the minimum wage, the theory is that through constant tips from customers the amount of money the waiter or bartender earns is above the minimum wage. In effect the customer is paying the wages of the employee. To counter the extra expense the price of food and drink does not factor in the higher wages of the employees and is therefore cheaper.

What of the UK though? Here employees are paid at least minimum wage and any tips we give are additional. On top of this we are already paying the wages of the employee as it is factored into the prices. Based on this simple principle, I, generally speaking, do not tip.

In first year at university I could not find a job and was in debt. At the time I was only just managing to keep my overall balance of my bank account above my overdraft and I was being careful with my money. However it was soon one of my hall-mates birthdays and to celebrate we all went to a restaurant to celebrate. I factored the prices up on the menu by choosing one of the cheaper options and sticking to water. I also divided the price of the birthday boy’s meal and bottle of wine by the number of guests at the table so I knew exactly how much money I would hand over.

To my surprise this was not enough for my fellow students. One of them asked me for my contribution towards the tip. I refused and about half of the table reacted angrily and shocked. One used the excellent logical argument which went along the lines of “I used to be a waitress and I hated it when people didn’t tip!” I stated my case. I was a student, without a job who was only eating a meal to celebrate my friend’s birthday. Why should I, someone with very little money and no income, give some of that limited amount of money to someone who does have a job?

On that occasion it turned out about half the table agreed with my point and most of us did not pay a tip. I still think a couple of them harbour ill-feelings about that incident though.

I do not think it is simply due to being selfish. The whole idea of tipping seems wrong to me, why do hairdressers and waiters and waitresses get tips whilst other people on the minimum wage (like myself) do not get tips? There have been reports that in Cuba at a time when all people were paid exactly the same amount that Doctors were quitting their jobs in hospitals and local practices to become Waiting staff as the tips from tourists meant they were paid considerably more.

My last problem with tipping is that I do not understand why we use a percentage system. What does the percentage of the cost of the meal have to do with the merits or demerits of the waiting staff?

Let me use this example, you go in and you buy three cokes and a burger. The waitress has to come to take your order (1) come back with your first coke (2) come back with your meal (3) comes back to give you the second coke (4) then comes back to clear your plate (5) then comes back with your third coke (6) then gives you the bill (7).

That bill may come to (for example) £15. Society deems 10% of the total bill an acceptable tip. Therefore the tip you give comes to £1.50.

Now picture another scenario. You decide to order the Lobster meal and a bottle of nice white wine.

The waitress has to come to take your order (1) to get you your bottle of wine (2) to get you your meal (3) to clear your meal (4) and then to present you with the bill (5).

Now this is a lobster and a bottle of wine, considerably more expensive than a burger and a few glasses of coke, so lets say the bill this time comes to £45. 10% of that is £4.50 so you give a tip which is three times as good as you gave to the previous waitress even though this waitress only assisted you only five times. That means that the waitress who worked harder and assisted you more often gets a worse tip, simply because of using a weird percentage system.

There are certain occasions where I do tip, but generally speaking I do not. I think it is strange that we have arbitrary destinations between which jobs deserve tips and which do not. I do not like the percentage system which has nothing to do with the difficulty of the job or effort of the employee. In a country where the employees are paid at least the minimum wage by their employer I do not feel it is my duty, as a fellow minimum wage earner, to pay them additional wages. That is why I do not tip.

As Scotland Burns'

Today, the 25th of January, Scots and their numerous descendants come together for the annual Burns’ Supper to celebrate the life and works of our national poet. On the anniversary of his birth it is traditional for us to eat Haggis and recite the Bard’s numerous poems in a spate of mass nationalistic pride.

Although I think there are numerous poets who are considerably better than Burns, his influence and cultural importance is undeniable. In Scotland we are brought up listening to songs written around his poetry and his liberal use of the Scot’s language puts him at the centre of Scottish cultural nationalism. His influence even extends out of his home country with ‘Auld Lang Syne’ being sang across numerous countries.

I enjoy haggis and I enjoy being Scottish. Really a night like this should be something I should enjoy. However nights like Burns’ Night and days like St Andrew’s day, rather than make me proud to be Scottish make me feel incredibly localised and cut off from the real world. Although I have lived in Scotland most of my life, support the football team and have picked up customs distinct to Scotland, I feel that my true culture is a British one. The imposed cultural celebrations of nights like tonight reject British culture and focus entirely on traditional aspects of Scottish culture, which makes the entire thing feel incredibly twee.

I think our culture has changed. Our culture consists of more than just old Scottish words, short-bread and haggis. The age old Clan system of our history are completely absent from our day to day lives. We are not fighting off invading English armies (which consisted mainly of Scots) in wars of independence. Most of us can hardly speak a word of Gaelic. But when it comes to a day set out to celebrate our culture it seems to be this historic culture that we feel the need to revive.

Things I like about being Scottish may be a little quirky. I like the fact we have Irn Bru, our own sugar filled soft drink. I enjoy the nuances of our accents. I like the amount of alcohol we drink. I like our pubs, towns, cities, football stadia, health service, coffee shops, comedians, musicians, festivals and so much more. Many of these things are distinct to Scotland, many are not. To me being Scottish has nothing to do with wearing a tartan kilt, eating haggis and dancing to the Gay Gordon’s (though I have to admit at times I indulge in all three), it is so much more than that.

I want to celebrate modern Scottish culture, I am quite happy to have our heritage celebrated as well, but my fear is that all we celebrate is our heritage and this cultural nationalism which takes over might spill into irreversible political nationalism based on the history and dead culture of our past.

Enjoy your haggis tonight, I will close with my favourite Burns’ stanza.

A prince can mak a belted knight,

A marquise, duke, an' a' that;

But an honest man's aboon his might,

Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!

For a' that, an' a' that,

Their dignities an' a' that,

The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,

Are higher rank than a' that.

What Frightens Me

There has been a lot written recently about the proposed rise in tuition fees at English universities so I am going to write only a few short points on my view.

There are three things that particularly scare me about this proposed change.

1. Education for those with money -

Poorer students will find it harder to get into university. Whilst there will be safeguards in place it will be students with rich parents who will be able to afford a higher education and not those with lower middle-class or working class families. University educations are no longer the preserve of the elite, they are becoming increasingly essential in an ever-competative job market. I fear it will be the case that people from poorer families will suffer not only due to having a lack of opportunity for further education, but suffer in the job market as well.

2. They can charge what they decide -

This frightens me. Whilst I there will surely be an upper limit in place not all universities will charge the full amount possible, it would be unviable. Universities will still need to attract enough students to pay for the courses. But what is to stop the top universities from charging the full amount possible? It would lead to Oxbridge and universities of its ilk being able to charge a considerably higher amount than less popular universities as they know that no matter what they charge there will still be students queuing up to study at their establishments. This will naturally lead to those better off going to the better universities. I fear this particularly as not only will it be more difficult for a less well off prospective student to be able to afford a university education, it will also be more difficult for them to afford choice in their establishment and potentially a better education. Do we really want a situation where richer people are better educated?

3. We have been lied to -

By 'we' I mean students. There was a huge push by the Liberal Democrats about abolition of tuition fees in the election campaign and it convinced a lot of progressive students to vote Lib Dem. They abolished them in Scotland and they claimed they intended to do the same in England. However it now appears not only have they rescinded this promise now that they are in government, but they are actually going in the other direction. Vince Cable can claim that they 'need' to do it due to the debt they have 'inherited' from Labour, but the simple truth is that they don't. The coalition is hell-bent on cutting quickly and ruthlessly. Cuts do need to be made, but not to the extent that they currently are. Our credit rating is good, we do not need to balance the books. Remember John Keynes? He was the one who showed that the books do not need to stay constantly balanced. Blame him if you like for the debt, but do not forget that Keynes was not Labour, he was a Liberal Democrat.

All in all it is frightening. English students, come up to Scotland.

The Coalition Broke My Promise

It is the perfect situation to be in. You spend months on the campaign trail promising the British public what you will do if you are elected. Even more importantly you make promises about what you will not do if elected.

Often these promises are about taxes. 'I will not raise taxes' a prospective governing party may bellow to the people. Or perhaps they are about keeping benefits. 'Child benefits will not be cut!' That ought to please the hundreds of thousands of people who rely on the Child Benefit system, and the wider demographic of people who believe protection of children to be paramount in any modern democracy.

And it works. Well it sort of works, you poll relatively well and manage to get a fair share of representation in parliament. You cosy up to one of the other parties and you are part of that magical political term; a coalition government.

This may sound familiar, after-all both Australia and the United Kingdom are currently testing this new-found style of democracy. This will sound particularly familiar to voters in the United Kingdom. Myself and the rest of the electorate of this country sat and listened to the Liberal Democrats stressing the importance of keeping child benefits. Not cutting them. Not changing them. Not even making them means-tested. So imagine the dismay Liberal voters will have when they woke up today (October 4th 2010) to discover the coalition government is planning on stopping child benefits for anyone who are earning more than £44,000 a year.

Surely this will be damaging, breaking a promise a mere six months into government. But it isn't. This is the magic of the word 'coalition'. 'Oh it isn't us', protest the promise breakers, 'It is our dear coalition partners who want to implement this policy.' Magic isn't it?

How long will this work for? How long can the government break promises, and make unpopular decisions whilst coming out blameless just because they can hide behind 'coalition'?

The truth is neither party need give up the word, they can allow for the other party to imply they are to blame for certain policies so long as that other party allow the first party to blame them. I urge you to not allow the 'coalition' aspect of the government to forgive the government for breaking promises or establishing policies governments normally wouldn't get away with. Coalition does not give them the right to break promises.

A Drinking Man's Socialist

I am struck with a disillusion in politics that comes from a lack of any true socialist voice or figure in the UK in 2010 politics. With Labour a fully established centre-left/Thatcherite/New Deal/Third Way (or whatever the hell you want to call it) party where does one look for socialism?

It seems the new 'right on' attitude is that of Liberalism, but I see myself almost as opposed to Liberal thought as I am to Conservative thought. I am inherently not a Liberal. Now to qualify that statement there are certainly aspects of Liberalism that are key to my political thought, but without exception these are liberal theories that are to the compliment of equality as a justice, rather than to the detriment. Yet amongst my peers the current buzz-word is 'progressive', and according to this defined progressive politics Liberalism is at the forefront. Ironically the party which proclaims to be Liberal is the one currently propping up a Conservative government. A progressive conservative government is a paradox too far.

But I am not a Liberal and I am not a conservative. I am a socialist.

Who do I look to? Really I have the Scottish Socialists (or whatever Tommy Sheridan is calling his current sex club) or George Galloway. Both of them bigoted Scottish arseholes (in my opinion). It seems that in the media and mainstream politics there are certain criteria one must fit to be considered a pigeon holed 'right on' socialist in Scotland. They are as follows:

1. You Must be Opposed to the Iraq War.

2. You Must wish for an Independent Scotland

3. You Must not Drink.

I'll take this point by point beginning with point 1. As it happens I am not wholly in favour of the Iraq War (lets rephrase that and call it the 'Iraq Intervention' from now on). I think we went into it under false pretences and I am not entirely convinced we were told the God's honest truth by the government when we went in. However I think going in was the correct decision at the time, and I believe more good has come from it than bad. However as a Socialist I cannot say that. I have to be opposed to this 'Illegal War' caused by that dirty 'War Mongerer' Tony Blair.

Why? Using our army to dismantle a pseudo-fascist religious dictatorship is surely right up the street of political socialism? No? We must be pacifists now must we? It's understandable, that great Socialist Stalin was far more heroic when he was making pacts with Hitler than when he was liberating Poland wasn't he?

Now on to point number 2. This one I truly don't understand but Scottish Nationalism seems to be key to Scottish Socialism. I'm not going to dwell on this topic too much, but how many of you really think National Socialism is a good idea?

And with great fanfare I bring you to the final point, you cannot drink. This may sound ridiculous but socialists don't seem to drink anymore. Not only that but they criticise people who do drink. Despite the great socialist drinkers of the past now alcohol is demonised (along with cigarettes might I add). The biggest culprit for this is Mr. Galloway who has layed into the likes of Christopher Hitchens, the entire House of Commons, the entire House of Lords and the entire apathetic electorate at one time or another for drinking.

Really George, go back to your teetotal dining club with Saddam and just let us be lefties who enjoy a bloody drink.

Anyway, rant over, there is no socialist I can admire. Perhaps I will make do with Labour. After-all, they at least manage a some-what decent manifesto without sounding like preachy, whiney, arseholes.

Grand Final Scotland Style

So yesterday was the last saturday in September, which to fans of Australian Rules Football means one thing; Grand Final day. The AFL Grand Final is the most important game on the footy calendar, it decides who wins the league and who takes the flag. This year an epic battle for footy supremacy was in order as St Kilda and Collingwood qualified to battle at the 100,000 capacity MCG. As a St Kilda supporter this game meant something. As a resident of Scotland however, it meant getting up at 4am to catch the game. Here is my photo diary of Grand Final day!

First picture, I was up and ready with my Saints gear, looking outside at pitch blackness. It truly was the middle of the night.

Ready for the trip to the pub. Streets deserted but I'm excited, ready to see the Grand Final against Collingwood!

First beer: 5am and I'm sitting there with a beer for breakfast. It's OK, the Grand Final only comes round once a year...

Half time: Game isn't going so well, behind after a pretty dismal quarter. I retained confidence...the beer helped! Nice to see a packed pub at 7am.

It was a draw! My dismayed and confused reaction, I have to come back next week.

People I watched the game with. Three Saints supporters and one bloke going for the Pies.

Now for pub number two to watch the game again. Pretend I don't know the score and watch to try and figure out how it was a draw!

This is me trying to be creative, The Grand final on the TV with Edinburgh Castle in the background.

Another pub full of people watching the Grand Final.

Confirmation! Grand Final Part Two: This Time It's Personal. I think Stephen Milne may argue that it already way.

A couple of Sainters who watched the game twice as well...I say a couple of Sainters, one actually went for Brisbane.

11pm, a number of hours after leaving the pub and I am absolutely shattered, stopped by a mates flatwarming, still in my Saints Gear.

Met up with a Nintendo 64 controller and sipped my final beer.

Back where I started, dark once again as it approached midnight.

It was a really enjoyable day, not sure what to make of it though, a draw! In the Grand Final! Watching it from Scotland was interesting, it's not often

it's acceptable to drink at five in the morning, but god it was good. All this sets up for next week to do it all over again. Next time there will be facepaint!

Anyone But England

I've read plenty recently about the Scots (and other 'Celtic' nation's) refusal to support our neighbours and fellow countrymen England in the World Cup. English commentators have blamed it on our rank jealousy that glorious England are in the world cup whilst we are not, whilst Scottish blogs and articles have pointed to the British media’s constant chattering about England deserving to win the world cup. Whilst I would love to see Scotland represented in the World Cup I’m not jealous of England, I’m more jealous of teams like Honduras, surely Scotland have to be better than Honduras! And yes the England based media is annoying come the World Cup, it isn’t enough to make me actively support other nations. No, the real reason I support teams playing England is far pettier than that.

 

The truth is I don’t like what England FC represent. Football teams to me don’t represent their nations, or indeed the culture of their nations. What they represent is the soccer culture. I absolutely love England’s culture, high tea, Pimms, Cricket on the lawn and the stiff upper lift. The quirky nature of England is brilliant and represents all of the UK to me. I love the Dorset and Summerset cultures, the Yorkshire culture, the city cultures, the history and the strange nuances that somehow make me proud to be British. The UK is a unique and downright ridiculous country, and England plays a significant part of that. I love it.

 

England the football team represents something different to me though. They don’t represent Pimms on the yard and the bloody history of England. The football team represents the ‘Engerland’ culture. I picture fat balding men thinking football is England’s gift to the world, as if all other countries deserve to give them respect. A hooligan ‘Gods Gift to football’ nature which I utterly loathe. I was asked recently who the first person I thought of when someone mentioned English football. Surely Bobby Charlton, Gazza or maybe Wayne Rooney would be my answer. It wasn’t. The first person I think of is the person I most associate with English football; John Motson. His Engerland obsession yet utter inability to pronounce foreign player’s names represent the English football culture perfectly to me.

 

I think about the teams I do like in international competitions, Germany for example. The German football culture isn’t Lederhosen and Europhilia, it is a stiff combination of East and West Germany, a football team where perfection is key. No stone left unturned, with the happiest fans who deserve to be arrogant, yet somehow aren’t. They drink beer and enjoy themselves, friends with everyone else (except maybe the Dutch). Then there is Argentina. I don’t think about a poverty stricken South American country, blessed with beauty, but without the tourism its neighbour Brazil enjoys. No, I think of Diego Maradona. He is one of my favourite people in football, a man who does everything to excess, an overweight former drug addict who is somehow possibly the best footballer there has ever been. And how can anyone dislike a team with Lional Messi in it?

 

Yes it may be petty, but I just cannot stand that English football culture, a nasty arrogant fat man who orders beers in Spain by putting an ‘O’ on the end of every word. Anyway, don’t worry England; I hate the French team too.