Corey Anderson McCutcheon, 44, has stopped tipping at random shops where cashiers do nothing but swivel an iPad his way.
The Upper East Side hair salon owner told The Post that automated prompts demanding 18%, 20% or 25% at dollar stores and self-service LaGuardia kiosks pushed him over the edge. “Who the hell am I tipping if I’m doing all the work myself? It’s crazy. I’m done.”
McCutcheon is part of a swelling backlash against what critics call “tip creep.” WalletHub data shows 78% of Americans now view the trend as “ridiculous,” while 42% feel no guilt about pressing “No tip” when faced with unfriendly or absent staff. Nearly two in five consumers want tipping banned nationwide.
The resentment runs coast to coast. Ivy Marie, 24, an Arizona creative brand strategist and former barista, used to refuse tips during her coffeehouse shifts. She believes simply doing her job never warranted extra pay.
“Gen Zs were basically born with technology, so friendly human interaction isn’t necessarily our default,” she told The Post. “If you’re not even going to say ‘Hello’ and smile while you take my order, what’s the point in tipping you? It might as well be a robot taking my order — they’re at least programmed to say ‘Hi,’ and ‘Have a great day.'”
Marie aired these grievances to nearly one million online followers, hoping her “entitled” fellow 20-somethings in service jobs — a demographic comprising roughly 41% of today’s service workforce — will rethink their attitude.
Dustin Anderson, 44, a Utah stand-up comedian and married father of four, has taken an even harder line. “I’m not tipping anymore. I’m done. I’m out,” he told his 3.6 million online followers. “You don’t get 25% because you did your job. And I’m not the bad guy here.”
Anderson, who joked that tipping should remain exclusively for cows and canoes, told The Post he’d rather restaurants simply raise menu prices than force gratuities after subpar service. The stance has cost him: “A restaurant influencer reposted my video and told millions of followers to give me terrible service,” he said. “I’ve probably been eating spit and worse for years.”
The anti-tipping awakening struck Brooklyn resident Will after European houseguests recoiled at a NYC bakery demanding 20% on a $7 croissant. “The person behind the counter grabs it off the rack and puts it in front of you. No service other than facilitating my spending money at the store,” he told The Post, withholding his last name for privacy.
Will admitted his friends’ outrage triggered his own “resentment” toward the practice. He sympathizes with workers who depend on tips, but rejects footing the bill for employer exploitation. “The argument that workers in the service economy live on tips is an admission that the service economy exploits the precarity of workers and outsources an employer’s duty to take care of their employees to the generosity of clients,” he said.
Brittany Robinson, a 30-something married mother and real estate executive now based in southwest Florida, has virtually abandoned the service industry entirely. She previously spent $1,000 monthly on acrylic gel manicures and hair extensions.
“I don’t really go out to eat anymore. I stopped going to the nail and hair salons — prices are so high now, and then you’re expected to tip on top of that,” Robinson told The Post. “Nowadays, you can’t avoid being hounded for a tip everywhere you go, no matter if it’s self-service or you’re getting waited on hand and foot. But I always click ‘No tip,’ smile and move on with my day — I don’t feel awkward about it at all.”
Her breaking point came when prompted to tip her Botox injector. She detailed the incident in a TikTok rant titled “I’m Officially Not Tipping Anymore” that reached roughly 200,000 viewers. “I’d never heard of tipping someone who’s providing a medical service,” she said. “I got regular Botox and a little filler for $1,000. A 20% tip on that would be another $200. I wasn’t even given the ‘No tip’ option. So I entered $0, proudly walked out and never went back.”
Etiquette expert Jacqueline Whitmore has backed such refusals in cases of zero human contact. “If you’re not having any contact, if somebody’s not bagging up your food, if there’s no one touching your food, no one cleaning your table, there’s absolutely no reason to add any additional tip [or] any tip at all,” she said following viral claims of Shake Shack tipping discrepancies.
Cornell University professor William Michael Lynn, who has studied tipping for 40 years, traces the current friction to corporate greed. “People’s attitudes towards tipping have gotten worse,” he recently told The Post, condemning companies for “fueling [consumer] dissatisfaction.”
What began in the late 1800s as a widely accepted way to support minimum-wage workers — those earning the lowest legally mandated hourly pay, currently $17 in New York City — has become a persistent pain point for everyday patrons facing hidden costs and surprise surcharges on already-inflated bills.
McCutcheon himself hasn’t abandoned tipping entirely. He trains his hairstylists to exceed expectations without demanding extra pay, and rewards genuine hospitality when he encounters it. “Our job is to provide amazing customer service, meaning we smile, communicate and kindly engage with the person paying us,” he said. “A tip is not mandatory. It’s an extra ‘Thank you’ for going the extra mile. If you don’t do that, don’t expect anything extra in return.”
Anderson maintains the same conditional openness. When service truly impresses, his wallet opens too.