The Longest Five Seconds

Felix has made coffee in three cities, and he says the coffee was never the hard part.

In Vienna, people paid at the table. A bill of eight euros forty? The customer said, “Make it nine.” That was the tip, and nobody talked about it.

In Tokyo, nobody tipped at all. One morning a customer left two coins on the counter, and Felix ran into the street to give them back. “He looked so worried,” Felix says. “He thought I was angry with him.”

Now Felix works in Seattle, and a machine asks the question for him. Fifteen percent? Eighteen? Twenty? The screen turns around to face the customer, and Felix stands there and looks at the milk.

“Those are the longest five seconds of my day,” he says.

Felix has a simple answer for the contrast, and it isn't about good manners. It's about money. In Seattle, tips are part of his pay, so a customer is likely to add twenty percent. In Vienna and Tokyo, the café pays him enough, so nobody has to think about it.

“And the latest machines ask for a tip on a bottle of water,” Felix says. “Nobody knows what to do. Not even me.”