Tip? I’ll give you a tip…

I don’t think anyone would argue that airports operate within a financial system that is a universe unto itself. It is probably only a matter of time before they start charging people for the air that they breathe inside the terminal (and I shudder to think what sort of margin they would be adding on top of that as well).

At the end of our recent holiday, we found ourselves in the departure lounge with a little bit of time to kill. The Boy needed to be breastfed and my wife was really thirsty (breastfeeding will do that to you). Since I had forgotten to fill up a water bottle and pack it in our carry-on luggage, it fell upon my shoulders to find a suitable replacement.

It was not long until our scheduled boarding time so I needed to find somewhere close with quick service. Casting my eye about, I chose a nearby store. Now, I use the word “store” in a not so much loose as liquid sense. The facility was a large bank of open-fronted refrigeration units where you perused and selected your chosen product, and one small check-out manned by a bored looking assistant.

After choosing a 750ml bottle of water, I was stunned to discover that the going rate in this dislocated economy was $4, more than twice what I would pay for this product in most supermarkets. However, as it was my fault we had to buy anything in the airport anyway, I gritted my teeth, took my karmic lumps with internal good humour and fished out the coins to pay. It was while I was paying for the bottle that I encountered something that really made me question just what it is that gets put into the water supply.

Prominently placed on the counter was a bowl with some coins, adorned with a sign communicating one simple word that is still burned into my occipital lobe – TIPS (and yes, it was in all caps, too). The rage seethed and bubbled deep within as part of my brain transmitted with full power over the entire telepathic spectrum with quiet fury: Not only did I select the bottle and physically transport it myself to the front counter and then pay well over twice what it is worth, but YOU WANT A FREAKING TIP? FOR WHAT? THE “SERVICE”?

Of course, making a scene is not my thing (deep down inside I’m just a spineless coward, like all the other sheeple) so I just quietly sighed (well, maybe not that quietly) when I found out that water now costs $4 and walked away.

You know what baffles me more than anything else? There were coins in the bowl. Either the proprietors of the kiosk have such a low opinion of people that they think that by chucking a few coins in a bowl, peer pressure will out and people will tip if they think the person in front of them in line did, OR, people actually have felt obliged to tip the staff in thanks for being gouged in an extraordinarily lazy manner (points for style, I guess).

I’m not sure which one is worse…