6 ways Americans waste money that Europeans can’t wrap their heads around

You can learn a lot about a culture by watching what people spend on without thinking.

I spent my twenties in luxury hospitality, where a server’s weekend could swing on one VIP check and a chef could turn leftovers into a knockout family meal.

Now I write about money, food, and life—still paying attention to the tiny choices that quietly compound.

Travel taught me that Americans (me included) leak cash in ways friends from Paris, Lisbon, or Copenhagen just don’t get.

Systems differ, sure, but habits matter more.

If you want to eat well, live well, and save without feeling deprived, start here.

1) Tipping on everything

I say this as someone who’s worked for tips: I respect the craft and the hustle. But “tipflation” is real when every tablet flips to 20–30% for handing you a bottled water.

Europeans tip for full service or exceptional care, not for counter pickups or self-checkout—they’re baffled we do.

My move now is simple. Tip thoughtfully, not automatically.

Full-service dining or someone who genuinely served you? Tip well.

Transactions with no service? A polite “no tip today, thanks” is fine.

Set a personal policy—yes, sometimes, no—so you can press the right button without guilt.

2) Bottled water as a lifestyle

I love a chilled glass bottle at a nice dinner, but turning bottled water into a daily habit is like paying rent on a basic human right.

Many US cities have perfectly good tap water. If yours doesn’t, a filter pitcher or under-sink unit pays for itself in weeks.

One $2 bottle a day is roughly $60 a month before the “sparkling, plus electrolytes” upsells.

As a food person, I treat water like an ingredient.

Get a filter you trust and a bottle you like holding.

You’ll skip the convenience-store detours and the impulse buys at the register.

If you love bubbles, a countertop carbonator and a strip of lemon peel turns hydration into a tiny hotel moment—for pennies.

3) Oversized cars and car-first defaults

Let’s be blunt: We don’t just buy cars, we buy rolling living rooms.

Bigger vehicle means bigger payments, insurance, gas, and parking.

In many European cities, transit and walking make “just enough car” the norm.

American sprawl is real, but we still over-choose the expensive option.

We drive to a gym a mile away to walk on a treadmill, we Uber three blocks because “it’s easier,” and we keep two cars “just in case”—even when one covers 95% of life.

As someone who loves restaurants, I also see the hidden fees—valet, surge, tickets.

A $150 date night becomes $200 because of the ride.

Try one “car-light” day weekly.

Walk errands, bike to coffee, or plan your grocery run next to the gym.

You’ll save cash and rack up steps without trying.

4) Buying in bulk (and binning half)

Warehouse runs feel efficient—twelve croissants and a vat of hummus.

Peak adulting, yes, but only until the greens melt in the crisper and the bread goes stale.

European kitchens are smaller and shops are closer, nudging people to buy what they’ll actually eat in a few days.

Less waste, less cost, more freshness.

In restaurants, great chefs obsess over “trim”—turning scraps into stocks, sauces, and staff meals.

Home cooks can steal that play.

Food waste is money waste—you don’t feel the $20 you tossed when you bin half a tub of berries.

It’s death by a thousand shriveled strawberries.

Buy small, buy often, and make your fridge a working pantry—not a museum of good intentions.

5) Delivery fees for every meal

I love convenience. I also love not paying $17 in fees to eat a $12 salad.

Delivery exists in Europe, but it doesn’t run their lives.

Here, it’s easy to normalize delivery for lunch, dinner, and “we should get cookies.”

Between service fees, delivery fees, tips, and menu markups, you’re funding a second rent.

Worse, the food usually travels poorly—fries go limp, greens wilt, and sauces leak.

You paid more for a worse version.

My compromise: Delivery for true emergencies—late nights, sick days, oven fails.

Otherwise, I order ahead and walk to pick up.

Fresh, faster, cheaper.

If I don’t want to move, I keep a five-minute default meal ready: Eggs on toast with chili crisp, tuna-and-white-bean salad, or pasta aglio e olio.

One pan, and no drama—you’ll save it for moments that are actually worth it.

6) Subscription creep at home

Finally, the silent assassin: subscriptions you barely remember approving.

Streaming bundles, premium music, two cloud storages, a fitness app, a snack box, a “pro” tool you needed once on vacation.

Individually harmless; together, a steady siphon.

Friends in Europe cancel ruthlessly. We keep “just in case.”

Because it’s “only $7.99,” we don’t feel it—until we add them up.

I ask one question per sub: What’s the job to be done?

If I can’t answer instantly, it’s gone; if a free option is 80% as good (library apps for ebooks and audiobooks are magic), I switch.

If two tools overlap, one is out; if it didn’t earn its keep last month, I pause it.

Add renewal dates to your calendar—be warned, though, because the annuals sting most!

The bottom line

Money leaks don’t feel like leaks when each decision is socially normal and only a few bucks.

That’s how we end up tipping for non-service, renting our water, financing rolling living rooms, trashing groceries, paying more for worse food, and subscribing to ten “it’s only”s.

Tweak even two of these this week and you’ll feel it by next month—less financial noise, more room for what matters.

If you love food like I do, that means more budget for farmers’ market finds, the good olive oil, the date night you remember, and the trip that fills your journal.

It’s not about being stingy, but about being intentional.

Spend where the experience is better and cut where it isn’t.

That’s how you eat well, live well, and still keep more of your money!