This Round's On Me
The lost tradition of “getting the next one”
I love getting out of the four walls of my living room and going out to eat with friends. But whenever dinner winds down with a group of five or more, I start to feel that faint whisper of anxiety.
How are we going to split the bill for this meal?
Increasingly, waiters and waitresses seem less and less keen to split the bill for a table of any size. So, when that leather bill holder is laid to rest in the exact center of the table, there are a few familiar characters who step up to the plate.
The Points Goblin, who unknowingly has been holding their credit card in hand for the past 45 minutes waiting for this very moment, will seize the folio and declare “I’ll put this on my card and we can split it on Venmo.”
This used to be me: $400 with 2x points on miles - 800 Chase travel points! That equates to maybe $8 in travel credit, but who’s counting? Certainly not me, as I spend 30 minutes later that night analyzing a picture of the receipt, only to get berated because Andrew ordered the side salad, not Sarah. And do Andrew and Sarah even know I paid for the Uber to the restaurant? Do they expect me to cover that? Stress on a different level.
Then, we all know an Even Steven, who suggests we all toss a card on the bill and split it evenly across the table. But the problem is, Even Steven had two cocktails and the filet mignon, while I ordered a wrap and iced tea.
Finally, there is the Debt Collector, who covers the bill with a casual, “You can get me back later.” This isn’t common, but it usually means you pay them your best guess right away. Or buy them breakfast the next morning before the debt somehow compounds to the cost of your soul (or your future child).
Apps like Venmo, Cash App, and Zelle have been a blessing in expediting repayment among friends for everything from dinners and concert tickets to bar tabs. Gone are the days of tracking down that one friend who’s terrible at paying you back like some kind of gangster knocking on their door in the middle of the night.
“WHERE’S MY MONEY, SARAH?”
Practically ripping the cash out of their wallet with your bare hands. Now you send a passive aggressive digital notification, linking out to your digital payment request.
However, as with any technology that disrupts tradition, these peer-to-peer payment apps have killed some good practices along with the bad.
A few years past the drinking age, once my peers and I were outside of college and relatively settled into our careers, there was an unspoken agreement of chivalry at the bar. Naturally, the logistics of ordering a drink made it cumbersome to flag a bartender down to individually pour and bill three guys all ordering the same light beer.
A merry-go-round of “I’ll get this round” followed us downtown, each friend covering drinks as we hopped from tab to tab. It was a small but meaningful layer of trust, a tradition I admired.
Now, phrases like “Next round’s on me” and “Put it on my tab” are fading, replaced by “You can Venmo me back” and “I’ll take a picture of the receipt.”
We’re losing the charm of buying a drink for a friend - and I believe this small act of camaraderie is going extinct.
I have a group of older friends, made thanks to my brother, who are a few years ahead of me in life.
I get to watch them hit major life milestones, like starting their career, buying a house, and having children. It’s an interesting, ongoing experiment to be the “younger brother” in this group as we age into adulthood.
One of these older friends served in the military and would be gone for months at a time with zero contact with the outside world. When getting together we would see who had the latest details on his whereabouts. “Have any of you heard from Elton?” Someone might respond, “Oh, he texted me back in January when he was stateside for two days. Same old Elton.”
On very rare occasions, when we could locate a time and a place where Elton would be arising out of the woodworks, we would get together for dinner and drinks.
I always thought of Elton as a bit like Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, from the Marvel comics. Like Rogers, who heroically plunged into the icy Arctic waters and emerged years later in a world that had changed, Elton would disappear to some remote base, ship, or submarine, only to resurface into a familiar yet changed world.
We’d catch him up on the rise of Fortnite, explain TikTok, let him know Despacito was no longer cool, and tell him to listen to Old Town Road instead. And, of course, we had to explain “Baby Yoda.”
Each time he re-emerged, he’d be a bit further behind the times. One critical cultural shift he missed was the complete takeover of Venmo.
For the uninitiated, Venmo is a digital payments platform that turned splitting the bill into a social media activity. If you cover the dinner tab, your friends can instantly send you their portion of the bill with the press of a button. It’s a Millennial staple and has been duplicated by other apps like Square and Zelle.
Elton, however, was the antithesis of Venmo. When we’d go out with our old group of five or six, he’d slip away to the restroom as our meals and drinks were winding down. He’d return, resume the conversation, and we’d soon be ready to move on to the next place.
Once the last french fry was eaten, and the final drop was drank, we would begin to look around for our waiter to get the bill.
Elton would stand up and declared “Alright boys, let’s make like a tree and get the fuck out of here.” He swore like a sailor and still does.
A chorus of confused questions and shocked realization swept through the group.
“We haven’t gotten our bill yet.”
“Elton, you son of a bitch.”
“Is this it, are we finally dining and dashing?”
“Elton, Elton what did you do?”
As the group quickly came to understand, Elton had payed for the entire dinner bill, drinks and all. This is the most extreme version of “this round’s on me” I’ve ever seen. It initially led to a feeling of crippling guilt - our one friend who served had just bought us dinner? That was the inverse of how this was supposed to work.
But that’s Elton for you. You couldn’t physically restrain this guy from buying your meal or drink if you tried; it’s just who he is. He likely wasn’t expecting repayment either, having missed the era when Venmo transformed instantaneously splitting the bill into a norm.
What I loved about this night, and others when we weren’t watching close enough and Elton would sneak off and buy a meal, is that he didn’t pay for a single drink the rest of the night. We took turns covering his tab at each bar we went to afterward.
I’m not saying that was a fair trade by any means (especially when my brother ordered the lobster roll at dinner), but it felt good to “get the next round.” To buy a drink for a friend who had just got one for you. Tit for tat and no huddling over our neon screens to digitally ping pong cash back and forth all night.
Sure, not every friend would do the same. Some would take advantage of a free drink without a thought about getting the next one. But I’m not here to outline rules or best practices for this tradition.
There is no handbook of tavern etiquette as observed throughout time. If you’re hoping for a guide that reads as follows:
Should a compatriot procure the initial libation, it is then one’s solemn duty to reciprocate with a potable of equal or grander merit. Thus, the noble cycle shall continue, until such time as both gentlemen (or ladies) are square in spirit and satisfied in mutual generosity.
… you will not find it here. And if you’re searching for a “Golden Rule of Getting the Next Round” to demystify and codify this practice, you’re missing the point entirely.
This gesture is meant to be genuine, instinctive, and natural.
Elton’s blind selflessness, his sheer joy in bringing friends together over a meal, shocked me awake from the fevered need for instant reimbursement.
That same group of older friends is coming into town this weekend for a beer festival in downtown DC. I look forward to buying each of these gents a drink - and perhaps even receiving one in turn.
The Bel
I loved this one!
How do you come up with these topics? Loved the article. Since I don't get out much, this isn't too big of a problem for me. But at our advanced age, we typically throw it on one bill and figure it out later...and it's a cash exchange (remember cash?). As long as we get it close, we're good to go. Or we just throw cash on the table that approximates what we spent. When this is done, the wait/er/ress usually ends up with a really good tip. Old people rule.