Are you supposed to tip taxis in NYC?

Is it normal to tip taxi drivers in NYC?

NYC taxi tips. Twenty percent, yeah? That’s the vibe. Always. A good driver deserves more though, right? A generous soul. Feeling that generosity bloom, like a rare orchid unfolding in the city’s concrete jungle. The city pulses, a relentless heart beat, but in that cab, for a moment, time softens.

The yellow glow. A warm, familiar beacon in the night. My ride last week – it was pouring, relentless sheets of rain – the driver, he navigated flawlessly, a true captain. Thirty percent, easily. Felt right, you know?

The way the city stretches out, infinite and glowing under the rain-washed streetlights… a tip isn’t just money. It’s acknowledgment. Respect. Paying homage to the silent symphony of city movement.

• 20% is the baseline. Don’t be a cheapskate.
• Exceptional service warrants more. Think about it.
• It’s the culture. It’s ingrained. You’ll feel the difference.
• My last tip, $15, pure gratitude. A small act, a huge feeling. Like gifting a memory.

The cab’s interior, a fleeting sanctuary, separate from the rush, the chaos. A small moment of shared humanity, a quick connection, sealed with the warmth of a generous tip. It’s about the journey, not just the destination. The city’s pulse thrumming outside.

The driver’s face, etched with the city’s stories, a quiet knowledge. I wonder about his day, his life, the rhythm he inhabits. It’s all part of the experience.

It’s 2024 and this remains a constant. A vital ritual. A small gesture, a profound feeling.

How much do you tip a $20 cab?

Oh, tipping? For a $20 cab ride? Let’s not bankrupt ourselves, shall we?

• The Sweet Spot: Aim for 15% to 20%. So, like, $3 to $4. Unless, of course, the driver moonlights as a comedian and cured your existential dread.

• Cash is King (Sometimes): Seriously, check if they take cards. I once had to Venmo a very confused driver. Awkward.

• The “Above and Beyond” Bonus: Did they navigate rush hour like a Formula 1 champ? Extra dollar. Did they avoid your Aunt Mildred’s house? Priceless. More dollars.

• My Personal Tipping Philosophy: It’s less about percentages and more about “did they not make me want to walk?” High bar, I know.

Let’s delve deeper, because why not? Tipping is basically a social performance art. We’re all just acting out roles in a very weird play. Also, did you know some people believe tipping originated in medieval Europe? I mean, talk about historical baggage.

Consider this: if the driver helped with your luggage, a dollar or two is always nice. Or, if they just sat there silently judging your life choices, maybe stick with the base rate. Either way, be polite. A simple thank you goes a long way. Plus, karma is a real thing, you know?

And, hey, if you really want to be generous, slip them a business card for your artisanal pickle company. That’s worth way more than money these days. I think. Maybe. Don’t ask my accountant.

How much to tip on $20 Uber?

Okay, so $20 Uber ride, huh? Double it, minus a buck. Four bucks. Simple as that. Think of it as paying for their therapy after dealing with you.

Uber Eats? That’s a whole different ballgame. I’m talking at least 20%. Maybe more if they braved a blizzard and your address is in the middle of nowhere. Like my Aunt Mildred’s. It’s a nightmare.

Average tip? Ha! Let’s just say some drivers are buying yachts, others are still using dial-up internet. Seriously, I’m not joking about the dial-up. I saw it. My neighbor, Kevin, who drives for Uber, and it was awful.

Etiquette? There isn’t one. It’s the Wild West out there. Tip what you can. Remember the driver is a human, not a robot, despite what some people seem to think. Except maybe those self-driving ones… Those things are creepy.

• $20 Uber ride: $4 tip minimum. Seriously, they probably spent 15 minutes finding your building because your directions were terrible.
• Uber Eats: 20% is a good starting point. More for late-night deliveries. Or rain. Or snow. Basically, add a few bucks for any weather event. Think of it as a weather bonus.
• Average tip? Varies wildly. My buddy, Mark, claims he once got a $100 tip on a $12 order. I think he’s lying. But it does happen to others. It’s just not that common.

Don’t be a cheapskate. Seriously, these folks are dealing with traffic, crazy customers (like your Aunt Mildred), and possibly very little actual pay, even with tips. And weird building numbers. And confusing street names. It’s a tough job. Show some appreciation, even if just a few extra dollars. Or at least try to make sure the app gives accurate directions. That’s a good start.

Do Uber drivers know if you tip?

Uber drivers are clueless chickens about tips, man. Five minutes? More like five agonizing minutes of nail-biting suspense, like waiting for lottery results, only with less potential for riches. They’re left wondering, did they get a pittance or did they get stiffed? It’s a rollercoaster of emotions! A real drama, I tell ya!

The agonizing wait:

• It’s a suspenseful five minutes, like watching paint dry, only more stressful.
• Imagine the driver’s internal monologue: “Did they like my driving? Was my air freshener too strong? Did that one pothole ruin everything?”
• They don’t see the tip in real-time. It’s a post-ride mystery.

The Rating Ritual:

• Rating you is their revenge. Or maybe reward. Who knows?
• The tip appears after the rating, like a magical unicorn. Or a tiny goblin, depending on your generosity. My brother once got a two-star rating after a 2023 tip of 10 bucks. Go figure.
• It’s completely arbitrary. They could rate you a 1-star based on your choice of music.

Seriously, the whole system is a bit ridiculous. It’s like playing a game of “guess the generous passenger,” only the prize is, well, a few extra bucks. Think of the mental health of Uber drivers! They deserve better than this tip-reveal theatrics. My cousin’s a driver and he swears he can practically feel the generosity (or lack thereof) through the car seat. This is my opinion from my personal experience riding in my cousin’s Uber.

What is an appropriate tip for a cab ride?

Fifteen to twenty percent. That’s the rule, right? The unspoken contract between city and asphalt, a silent promise whispered in the backseat hum. A silent thank you for navigating the urban maze, a small gesture acknowledging the weight of the miles, the weight of the city itself pressing down.

Cash. Always cash. The crinkle, the feel of it, a small ritual. Credit cards… too impersonal, too sterile. The transaction feels… incomplete. Like a half-remembered dream.

Twenty percent. For a particularly smooth ride. A driver who knew all the shortcuts, who anticipated my needs, that extra grace… that feels right. My 2024 summer in Manhattan, I always tipped generously.

• Tip Percentage: 15-20% of the fare
• Payment Method: Cash preferred for that personal touch.
• Exceptional Service: 20% or more for an outstanding ride.

The city stretches out, a million glittering windows. Each cab ride, a fleeting moment, a story in itself. A tapestry woven from fleeting moments. Time and space dissolve in the backseat. The driver, a phantom, a silent guardian of the night. The cab, a tiny capsule, carrying me through the luminous heart of everything. So many faces, so many journeys. Each one deserving of thanks, each one deserving of that small, tangible gesture of appreciation. The subtle clinking of coins, a quiet farewell to a momentary shared intimacy.