Annoying orders and bad tips: Bartenders spill on Gen Z’s drinking habits

Not only are young people screwing, drinking, and partying less, but they’re also getting on bar workers’ nerves on the rare occasions when they do show up. 

“Bar etiquette just seems to be out the window for Gen Z,” said Brit Wolfe Wilson, who has bartended on and off for a decade and currently works at Harrington’s in the Financial District. “They just haven’t learned how to act.” 

She blames it, in part, on Covid. Young people were stuck at home during those formative years in which they should have been scoring fake IDs and sneaking into bars to watch their elders practice the fine points of drinking culture. Whatever the reasons behind their awkwardness, she and six other bartenders were eager to spill about what they’ve observed about Gen Z drinking habits. 

A cringeworthy behavior bartenders raised is Gen Z’s propensity for sharing drinks. Buddha Lounge bartender Savannah Hall says groups of five will come in and split two drinks (sometimes alcohol-free ones at that). 

“I’m totally cool with people not drinking,” she said. “But our nonalcoholic beers are $4. You can all afford your own.”

Worse, sometimes they don’t order anything at all, according to Kozy Kar bartender Benny Davis. He’s seen groups of five or eight take over a booth and just hang out without getting a single drink.

“You have to go up and explain that they have to buy something. It’s embarrassing,” he said. “I don’t think they’re aware that they can’t just hang out. Sometimes after I talk to them, they just leave.”

Still, he said, when Gen Zers actually buy something, they tend to tip well. However, Davis’ opinion was an outlier.

“Gen Z tips like shit,” said Elliott Rightmire, a bartender at Royal Exchange who is Gen Z himself. “I’m impressed with people when they tip more than 15%.” 

While Kevin Rougeau, a bartender at Terminus, admits that low tips have always been an unfortunate hallmark of young customers (“They’re broke!”), others believe Gen Z is worse than ever.

“Even five years ago, young people would still be kind of generous. Now they’re definitely skimping on tips,” said Wilson Wolfe. It’s not uncommon to get stiffed completely. “This is even Gen Zs that are dropping platinum AmExes — it’s not like they’re giving me a Wells Fargo debit card.”

Meanwhile, it’s often obvious that Gen Z patrons have pregamed pretty hard at home to save money at the bar. As one bar owner put it, young people take “edibles, MDMA, and pregame,” then show up at the bar ready to dance, hook up, and drink water. “It’s awful.” 

“When I started bartending 10 years ago, kids in their early 20s would want to rip shots of tequila,” said Mr. Bing’s bartender Sam Jaffe. “Now they want to sip a cocktail.”

When it comes to Gen Z bar orders, nonalcoholic beer, mocktails, and low-ABV drinks are popular — as is nursing a single drink over an hour and a half.  

Goodbye, Long Island iced teas; hello, Aperol spritzes.  

In addition to low-alcohol drinks, Gen Zers love ordering things that will “look pretty in an Instagram post,” Jaffe said. A pinkish-orange Paper Plane or colorful slushie photographs better than a gin and tonic. 

Young customers also love “whatever’s trending on TikTok,” said Hall. She’s had Gen Z drinkers ask for “purple Gatorade shots” (no, they don’t contain electrolytes) or green-tea cocktails, made with Irish whiskey and sour mix, after seeing them on social media. 

She’s also had to school the kids on what they’ll get if they order a dirty martini. Yes, the classic cocktail looks chic and is “a vibe,” but she’ll talk through the taste before making one for someone who says they rarely imbibe. “They just don’t know what kinds of drinks they want,” she said. 

With some exceptions: Espresso martinis still reign supreme among the younger clientele. 

One of the most common gripes with Gen Z is the way they handle payment. They never want to start a tab or leave a card at the bar. Instead, they prefer to purchase each drink individually.  

That means more work for the bartenders, who have to conduct a transaction and print a receipt every time. Wolfe Wilson recalled a group of eight finance interns, each of whom ordered a single White Claw or light beer, and all paid separately. 

“It’s a pain in the ass,” bemoaned Jaffe. 

Some bartenders chalk up the practice to “commitment issues,” while others theorize that Gen Zers just don’t realize how inconvenient and costly it can be for bars that are forced to pay a credit card fee with every swipe. 

Rightmire thinks that his peers do know it’s annoying, but they don’t care, because it helps them keep track of exactly how much they’re spending. He describes his generation as both “frugal” and plagued by a “general social ineptitude” post-pandemic. It’s also why, he posits, they don’t want to buy a round for their friends. 

“If you’re in a group of five, you might get your boy’s drink, but you’re not buying for everyone,” Rightmire said. “That never happens.” 

As a form of counterprogramming, he makes a point of ordering rounds when he goes out with a group. Even if he expects to be paid back via Venmo, he wants to show friends that a group order is more efficient than half a dozen individual ones.

Julian Iervolino, a bartender at Harper & Rye on Polk Street, said what kills him is when a group refuses to request all their drinks at once, preferring to let each person close out before the next one orders. 

“If you’re all going to get the exact same cocktail, just order all at once, so I can make them all faster,” he said. “You still don’t even need to pay together.” 

Despite the gripes, bartenders managed to scrape together a few things they like about Gen Z customers. 

“They’re all really polite and full of compliments,” Hall said. She’ll regularly get props on her clothing, hairstyle, or jewelry choices from Gen Zers, whom she describes as “very kind” and stylish in general. They often buck the San Francisco trend of zero-effort hoodies and T-shirts. “They’ll come in dressed and done up to the nines,” she said. 

Plus, because they’re drinking less, they don’t cause a ruckus. You never have to kick them out or break up a fight. 

Davis has empathy for kids who may feel like they’ve inherited a screwed-up world. 

“The pandemic just really messed things up for them,” he said. “And it’s not a happy time in the world right now. I think they’re feeling it more than older people like I am.” 

One thing is sure, though: They’re not channeling those feelings of sadness or desperation into buying booze. 

“I used to think that bars were recession-proof: You drink when you’re happy; you drink when you’re sad,” he said. “But nah, that ain’t the case with Gen Z.”