Whew! After a week of conferences in Seattle and Chicago, there was light at the end of the travel tunnel. Along with a few coworkers, I got out of the car in front of the Southwest Airline baggage curb check station. Awkwardly, I stepped forward with my check bag, carry-on backpack, and the box lunch the conference organizers had given us as we left the hotel.
“Your ID please, sir,” was the standard greeting I heard as I approached the baggage handler. “Where are you going today?”
I simply answered, “DC.”
“How many bags are you checking?” he asked.
“Just one.”
We then went through the standard dance as he handed me back my ID, typed in his terminal, printed the bag tag and boarding pass, then handed me my part of the paperwork. After he explained to me my gate number and the directions to the security check point, I handed him a simple $1 tip and said “Thank you.”
Next came the part of the standard dance that was new to me. In a loud deep voice he shouted, “Thank you for the tip, sir!”
I smiled, normal for me in most situations that feel awkward. I noticed as he shouted the thanks that he didn’t really look at me, but looked around, moving his head back and forth, projecting to the others in line behind me and at neighboring stations. At first I wondered if he was shaming me for the meager $1 tip. I noticed he had looked at it as I handed it to him. He was obviously checking out the denomination of the bill. It was only after looking the dollar over that he let out with his amplitudinous message of gratitude.
Was he shaming me for such a small tip? No, it quickly became clear he was future shaming the others approaching his station. He was using me as the example of the “good behavior” he wanted all the others to emulate. These workers move hundreds of bags a shift, I’m sure. If everyone dropped them a buck per bag, that would add to their wages nicely.
I confess, when I take my bag inside to check I don’t give a tip. When I do check bags inside it seems I am doing most of the work. I move my bag to a kiosk. I enter all the data into the screen. In some cases I even print and attach the tag to the bag as well. After all that, I roll it to an attendant at an indoor station who looks at my ID, moves the bag about 3 feet to a conveyor belt, then sends me on my way. By comparison, the curb check people do everything for me. That’s how I justify giving a tip outside, but not inside. Likewise, I have never seen anybody else tip the inside people, even back in the day before the kiosks. From that perspective, I guess I’m culturally a conformist.
“Your ID please, sir,” was the standard greeting I heard as I approached the baggage handler. “Where are you going today?”
I simply answered, “DC.”
“How many bags are you checking?” he asked.
“Just one.”
We then went through the standard dance as he handed me back my ID, typed in his terminal, printed the bag tag and boarding pass, then handed me my part of the paperwork. After he explained to me my gate number and the directions to the security check point, I handed him a simple $1 tip and said “Thank you.”
Next came the part of the standard dance that was new to me. In a loud deep voice he shouted, “Thank you for the tip, sir!”
I smiled, normal for me in most situations that feel awkward. I noticed as he shouted the thanks that he didn’t really look at me, but looked around, moving his head back and forth, projecting to the others in line behind me and at neighboring stations. At first I wondered if he was shaming me for the meager $1 tip. I noticed he had looked at it as I handed it to him. He was obviously checking out the denomination of the bill. It was only after looking the dollar over that he let out with his amplitudinous message of gratitude.
Was he shaming me for such a small tip? No, it quickly became clear he was future shaming the others approaching his station. He was using me as the example of the “good behavior” he wanted all the others to emulate. These workers move hundreds of bags a shift, I’m sure. If everyone dropped them a buck per bag, that would add to their wages nicely.
I confess, when I take my bag inside to check I don’t give a tip. When I do check bags inside it seems I am doing most of the work. I move my bag to a kiosk. I enter all the data into the screen. In some cases I even print and attach the tag to the bag as well. After all that, I roll it to an attendant at an indoor station who looks at my ID, moves the bag about 3 feet to a conveyor belt, then sends me on my way. By comparison, the curb check people do everything for me. That’s how I justify giving a tip outside, but not inside. Likewise, I have never seen anybody else tip the inside people, even back in the day before the kiosks. From that perspective, I guess I’m culturally a conformist.
RSS Feed