The Tip Trick: How the Trump Budget Starves the Working Class

Imagine a woman in her late 20s, raising a young kid and working two jobs. On weekday mornings, she waits tables at a chain diner just off the highway. On weekends, she picks up banquet shifts at a hotel near the airport. Some weeks she hits 40 hours. Most weeks she doesn’t. Her schedule is built around whoever else calls off, whichever babysitter shows up, and how many tips she can pull in when customers don’t walk out on the check. She’s not lazy. She’s tired. She’s not failing. She’s just barely holding on.

She doesn’t ask for much—just enough to stay ahead of the next crisis. One sick day, one bounced check, one broken car door, and it all starts to unravel. Like nearly 60% of Americans, she’s living paycheck to paycheck. This isn’t some outlier story. It’s the American norm, life for millions of workers whose labor keeps the country running, even as their budgets can’t absorb a single emergency.

Last week, she saw a headline. The new House budget plan would eliminate federal income tax on tips. She read it twice. Finally, something for workers like her. Finally, a win.

This budget offers token relief while delivering sweeping cuts.

But what she didn’t see—what the headline didn’t say—is that while she might save a few hundred dollars come tax season, the same bill cuts the healthcare, food, and education programs that actually keep her afloat. It’s not a lifeline, it’s a tradeoff. And it’s a bad one.

Early Thursday morning, May 22, after days of internal negotiations and public brinkmanship, the House narrowly passed the “One Big Beautiful Bill,” a 1,100-page tax and spending package drafted with support from the Trump White House. Despite defections from within their own ranks, GOP leadership managed to push the bill through with no Democratic support and just enough Republican votes to avoid collapse. The measure now moves to the Senate, where further changes are likely, but the core architecture is intact.

The bill includes more than $3.8 trillion in tax cuts, most of which go to the wealthiest households and largest corporations. It makes permanent the 2017 Trump tax cuts, increases the estate tax exemption to $15 million per person, and expands loopholes for business income. According to the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy, the top 1% of households would receive an average annual tax cut of approximately $79,000.

And the waitress? If she reports $10,000 in tips next year, she might see a refund boost of around $700. That’s her win. That’s what she gets.

But here’s what she could lose.

If her hours drop below 80 in a given month, and she can’t prove every one of them with pay stubs or employer forms, she could lose her Medicaid coverage. Under the latest version of the bill, these nationwide work requirements are no longer delayed until 2029. They’re scheduled to take effect as early as the end of next year. These requirements don’t just ask that you work. They ask that you document it, every month, without gaps. Miss a report, and your health insurance disappears. No phone call, no warning, just a closed file and an empty pharmacy counter.

If she misses work because her kid’s school is closed or a sitter falls through, she might lose Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits too, especially if she doesn’t fill out the right paperwork on time or fails to meet a new state threshold. The revised bill raises the age limit for mandatory work compliance and eliminates long-standing exemptions for parents. The moment her child turns seven, she’s treated like someone with no caregiving responsibilities at all. And for the first time in decades, states will be required to help fund those benefits. If they can’t, or choose not to, those benefits could disappear.

If she tries to go back to school to finish the associate’s degree she started, she may no longer qualify for a Pell Grant. The bill raises the minimum course load for a full award from 12 credits to 15, more than a full-time load at most colleges. For a working mother juggling jobs, that’s not just a higher bar, it’s a locked gate. She’d have to choose between working more hours to afford tuition or taking more classes she can’t pay for to receive aid. Either way, she loses.

And that’s the pattern. Across the board, this budget offers token relief while delivering sweeping cuts. It takes programs that millions rely on—Medicaid, food assistance, student aid—and sacrifices them to fund tax breaks that primarily benefit those who already have the most. It’s a redistribution in reverse. It shifts risk downward and wealth upward. It wraps itself in the language of freedom and choice, while quietly dismantling the systems that offer working people a shot at stability.

This isn’t a misunderstanding of how poverty works. It’s a bet that most people won’t notice until it’s too late. It counts on workers like her being too busy, too tired, or too stressed to read the fine print. It counts on the headlines focusing on the tip exemption, not the Medicaid paperwork that knocks her off coverage. Not the missed deadline that shuts off SNAP. Not the registration block that forces her to drop out of community college. It makes the punishment quiet and the payoff loud.

We know who this helps. And we know who it hurts.

As of late 2024, approximately 78.5 million Americans were enrolled in Medicaid or CHIP. In fiscal year 2023, 42.1 million participated in SNAP each month, and school meal programs served more than 4.6 billion lunches. The majority who rely on these services are children, seniors, and working families. By contrast, according to the Yale Budget Lab, fewer than 2.5% of U.S. households would benefit from the tip tax exemption, and only about 5% of low- and moderate-wage workers are employed in traditionally tipped occupations. And even among them, the average gain won’t cover a single unexpected car repair. The math doesn’t work. The logic doesn’t hold. But the politics do.

Because the waitress at the diner won’t get a press release when her SNAP balance goes to zero. She won’t get a spotlight when her kid’s lunch bill doubles or when she finds herself sitting in the ER without coverage. She’ll just keep showing up. Keep working. Keep holding the line with less and less help.

And that $700 refund?

It won’t pay for the inhaler when her daughter’s asthma flares up. It won’t buy a month of groceries when benefits are cut. It won’t fix the brake line on the car that barely starts. It won’t cover tuition when she’s one semester away from finishing a degree. It won’t save her when the safety net snaps under her feet.

No matter how “beautiful” they say the bill is, it won’t hold her life together when everything else is falling apart.