Tipping & Being Seen

Over the years, I’ve had countless debates about tipping in the service industry. Regardless of where anyone stands, one definition always seems to hold: tipping is for service.

But “service” is a slippery word. It’s stretched from the simple act of a barista handing you a coffee to the more involved artistry of a hairstylist transforming your look. Somewhere along that scale, the subjectivity of what counts as “service” became the source of all the consternation.

This afternoon, I found myself watching two men (aka “the movers”) packing up a truck at my storage unit in 95‑degree heat in Santee, California. They had spent two full days hauling, lifting, and organizing every last box. My boyfriend and I were signing off on the job when it hit me: these guys must be exhausted.

We had already offered them water and food, but it didn’t feel like enough. Tipping isn’t standard in that industry. Still, I couldn’t not.

So I tipped them.

And the surprise and delight on their faces wasn’t just gratitude. It was something deeper. It was a moment of being seen. They both knew their effort, their labor, and their humanity had been acknowledged in a way the job itself rarely does.

Maybe that’s what tipping really is: not a transaction, but a moment of being seen.