My Restaurant Pet Peeves

Dining Drama: A Rant for the Hungry Soul

​We’ve all been there​ - mid-bite, savoring the last remnants of a perfect dish​ - and suddenly, like a plate-snatching ninja, the server strikes. No warning, no mercy. Is there a bounty on semi-clean plates? Some perverse incentive tied to every lost crumb or drizzle of sauce? And if they do bother asking, their hands are already on your plate. The audacity!​

And can we talk about glassware etiquette? Why, oh why, must some staff insist on gripping my glass near the rim? That’s where my mouth goes, folks. Every time I see it, I can hear my inner germaphobe screaming, “YUCK!” Plates handled the same way? Double yuck.

Here’s another gem: the dreaded “keep your fork and knife” command. I don’t know who started this vile trend, but here’s my polite response: NO. I don’t want my pre-loved, sauce-slicked utensils dragged into the next course like stowaways. Swap them out. Bring me fresh ones. That’s not a request—it’s table etiquette 101.

Up-selling. Ah yes, the art of suggesting a $30 vintage port when I ordered a $10 tawny. It’s to die for, they say. Well, so is the bill after a few upsell victories. Just give me what I ordered. My wallet and I aren’t here for a hard sell. (I have sign-language at the ready for this).

And what’s the deal with Parmesan rationing? Servers shaving cheese like it’s the culinary equivalent of ​​k​rugerrands. Do they think I’m unworthy of a dish? Just bring me a bowl​ of the stuff. Let me live my life, cheesy and unjudged.

A special shout-out to the servers who recite the specials with Oscar-worthy drama, only to omit the prices. Deceptive much? If I need an accountant to interpret your “specials,” I’ll skip the stress and stick to the menu, thank you very much.

Then there’s the bread basket debacle​, snatched away before the entrees arrive. What are they guarding it from? My carb-loving soul has questions.

​“Save room for dessert.” Save room?! I’ve been​ eating​ my whole life, thank you, and I’m fairly confident I’ve got it under control.

Finally, a plea to all servers: know your food. Know its ingredients, its preparation, its soul. If you don’t, fetch someone who does. And for the love of fine dining, don’t try to make up for mediocre service at the end of the evening with a too-late charm offensive. The tip’s already decided​, and it’s as lukewarm as my dinner was.