Let's get right into it shall we? Sometimes you can't avoid being the last table in a restaurant. But if you want to fully enjoy your restaurant experience try not to do it. I'll let my ''example" do the talking.
In my intro post I alluded to four middle aged Jersey housewives I served last Friday night, the kind we all know and love, from a nearby affluent suburb I'll call "Holdenfeld" for our purposes. I sat three of them at around seven thirty and the fourth swept in at twenty after eight. Her late arrival was fine except that the original three ladies were halfway into their second of three bottles of wine. No problem, the fourth had brought two bottles of her own, one of which she wanted opened immediately. So after the greetings, the birthday presents, and the indecision I got their three course order in by ten of nine. Needless to say, by the time I cleared their dinners it was just ten o'clock and they were one of two tables left in the room. The other was a party of six which was seated a few tables away from our ladies about an hour afterward.
The party of six had a little wine as well, and were not thrilled about their dessert conversation being interrupted by the boisterous laughter and obnoxious outbursts that were coming from the same direction as the off-putting aroma of high-end perfumes all mixed together. So they began to try to talk over the ladies; sometimes in a mimicking manner and sometimes just trying to comment across their table. Whether the Holdenfeld four were aware of this or completely oblivious, they seemed to get worse at this point.
My fellow server and I, completely finished closing the joint, patiently waited out of sight for the two groups to finish up and leave. This is when the calls and beckons began, shrill voices loudly pointing out the need for more water, more ice on the wine, etc. Great. Beat up on the help when someone else insults you. But I complied with a smile and resumed the anguish that is the wait to be released from work on a Friday night.
But now it was a war. I'd seen this before. The next battle after the one for decibel supremacy is the battle to see who will stay the longest. Almost always, the winning group will leave directly after the one that concedes, satisfied with their supremacy in the test of wills they just fought over their key lime pie. As you guessed it, our ladies were that group, making a last loud request for their corks to be returned (though I'd turned off the music at eleven o"clock) so they could take with them what little wine was left.
Anyone, even a non-restaurant employee, can see how uncomfortable this situation became for everyone- both the guests and the staff. I'm sure that this incident is what both tables will remember about this experience, not the great food or, of course, the spectacular service. I never make the last table feel rushed, but they must feel that way a little when they ask me, without fail, if they are "holding me up." By the way, a server is never gonna respond to this with a genuine, "Actually sir, you are. Would you please get the $#%& out!" So please never ask this.
Just know the place where you wanna eat a little. If you get a calamari craving at eleven at night, go to a spot that's known for its late night menu. And if you do happen to be the last table, don't freak out and get your dinner to go. You're gonna pay for your food so take your time and enjoy it, even order dessert without feeling any pressure. But after three and a half hours and almost five bottles of wine it is time to go.
I promise, an empty room is not a welcome place to dine and food quality can suffer later on in the night, so make sure you get the most out of your experience by dining during "normal" business hours. And remember my friends, 20% is always accepted.
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