Summer 2024 was bound to be different, especially in France, what with the enormous July–August spike of an estimated 15 million tourists piling into the place for the XXXIII Olympiad.
In an ordinary year, France is one of the most visited countries on Earth, averaging just under 80 million international arrivals, to say nothing of native French tourists. But even for France, the extra 15 million is a big number to absorb over three short weeks. Let’s call it the Olympic Tourism Bulge.
In anticipation of that, prices in Paris have risen dramatically for food and drink, for methods of transport, and for accommodation — the three most vulnerable budget areas for travelers to the city. The ticket price for the legendary Paris Metro, for instance, by far the best way to get around the traffic-choked capital, will just about double, from approximately $2.70 to about $4.00.
Not wanting to be fenced out of the Olympic goldmine for service sectors, restaurants have been beefing up prices, and worse, shocking even battle-hardened Parisian restaurant-goers by asking in not-so-subtle tableside nudging and hectoring of the clientele for larger tips.
It works like this: You have dined well, you ask for the bill. The server (or in some cases, the head waiter who is authorized to collect tabs) approaches your table with their tablet or card reader. They punch in your tab. The software gives them the screen to ask if you would like to add a tip. They lean in.
As everything in Paris is, the bill is a splurge, let’s say north of $200, with wine. The tablet is ticking on, about to call time on the transaction. Your dining partner gets fidgety. With no idea what would be appropriate, you cave, throwing in what would be a passable tip back home of 15%. The charge goes through, the waiter fades to his station.
And just like that, you’ve been ripped off to the tune of something like $30.
In fairness, intimidating clients for bigger tips isn’t a scam, exactly, but in Paris it amounts to a shady practice in an ethics-free gray zone just short of charging you for an extra bottle of Burgundy that you didn’t drink. Because: Parisian restaurants already add a 15% service surcharge. Parisians themselves typically add a pourboire, which literally translates as “for drink,” of about 5% atop that inbuilt charge for service.
Owen Franken / Getty Images
All’s fair in love and war, then, that you didn’t know about the lower French pourboire. You’ll study up next time.
But! In the last weeks, the pre-Olympic arm-bending-for-tips has just sparked a spate of indignation around Paris, as some enterprising restaurants and their waiters have been attempting to blackmail their French clientele. Said another way, despite D-Day, it’s one thing to squeeze an extra $30–$50 out of unsuspecting Americans or recently Brexited Brits. It’s quite another, groused a Parisian businessman to the (London) Times, to have a Paris restaurant twisting French arms.
How to combat this? First, understand your target-ness. Whether you’re trekking to Paris for the Olympics or not, the challenge for non-French of any nationality is to be knowledgeable about the city and the customs thereof. Second, purely on general principles, show some respect — to the culture, the city, and its people (including all waitstaff everywhere).
Finally, there’s this simple, specific remedy: Pay in cash.
In some places, they’ll have a real cashier, in others perhaps the waiters will be walking around with a purse for cash transactions. If you engage them with cash, by definition they have no pressured, digital moment to goad you. You want that advantage. Even when using a credit card, tell them at the moment of payment that you tip in cash. What you’re doing there is calling them back to the old 18th- to 19th-century idea of restaurant service.
And what they’ll do after that is back down.
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