(personal underlines)
Hello, waiter? Yes, I’d like to complain
A brief survey of the worst restaurant offences
As I leant over to speak to one of my dining companions in a busy restaurant, I felt something shuffle on my knee. I briefly wondered if it was a rat. But it was just a busybody waiter, who had taken my napkin from the table and folded it upon my lap. It was a bit strange that he did so without asking – but then, this same waiter had, when taking our order, crouched down (so that he was sitting on a chair) and asked, ‘Are you guys ready to order, and do you want me to explain the concept?’ So much to dislike.
My biggest gripe used to be waiters who poured your wine too frequently, and too full, in their mission to total the bottle so that you order another. A few years ago, I was in a very high-end restaurant for a celebratory meal to mark a special occasion, and had ordered some rather expensive wine. The waiters wanted to turn the table – even though this was not official practice at this particular venue. And because we were just a bunch of women, with no men involved to add an air of authority, they kept refilling my glass even though I had barely had a sip. When I told them to please stop, I heard one waiter whisper to the other, ‘Don’t give any to the cunt in the middle.’ I complained so hard that I ended up with a sizeable chunk taken off the bill.
Another thing that drives me mad is being told that the kitchen will send out whichever dish it fancies whenever it happens to be ready, so you might end up with the dessert coming first and the olives last. Then there are the tapas places where the tables are about 10 cm square and the numerous plates are in constant danger of toppling onto the floor.
Being asked repeatedly if everything is OK and whether we are enjoying our food is also a major irritant. Although to do so once is polite, I always think that if there was anything wrong, you might be expected to mention it to the waiter – despite being British.
What else? How about those chefs who think themselves celebrities, with their tour of the tables at the end of service – so that just as you’re about to take a mouthful of dessert, you find yourself having to make polite conversation with someone you would really much rather just stayed in the kitchen.
Or waiters that don’t bother to write the order down, and then get something wrong – or have to come back twice to check. Big ego thing. Some places insist that all of the food is perfectly seasoned and therefore don’t put salt and pepper on the table, then look at you as if you’re some kind of jumped-up pervert when you ask for it.
But my most serious complaint is reserved for restaurants that are incapable of serving up everyone’s food at the same time. What do you do? Force yourself to start eating (and therefore not enjoying it at all) as you look over your shoulder for where the rest of the food is? And waiters who start clearing the table before everyone has finished eating come a close second.
Of course, it’s a two-way street: let’s not forget the hell that some diners put restaurant workers through. I’m thinking of diners who continue chatting to each other, oblivious to the presence of the poor waiters standing by the table, balancing heavy armloads of dishes. And then the blank stares when half of them have forgotten what they ordered, while the server desperately tries to stop the plate from sliding onto the floor. If it were me, it would go straight into the diner’s lap.
I have eaten out with people who never even deign to look at the person serving them, just carrying on with the conversation as the food and drink magically appears before them. I would ban phones in restaurants. Not only because of how rude it looks to other diners when people act as though they are eating in their own home, barking into the phone and ignoring both the food and their dining companions – but also to stop them from taking photographs of every bloody course they are served.
Other crimes I would like to see punished include using fingers to scoop out ice when there is a perfectly good pair of tongs on the table, eating from a knife, and going outside for a smoke between courses. There is no room for complaints about the food or the service if diners behave like Neanderthals themselves.
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