Dinner theatre

I like everything about the Texas Roadhouse chain that’s edible. The wooden seats may be a bit hard and the acoustics may suck, but the steaks and the the baked beans and the rolls are great. Sweet tea, too.

The cheeky service is a different matter.

How surprised would she be, I wonder, to find out that her tip evaporated the moment my Roadhouse waitress, who looked all of 16 years old, sat down across from me at my table to take my order a few days ago in Taylors?

As if she were my guest or my buddy or the manager. Barriers be damned.

I didn’t say anything, which may have been irresponsible of me, now that I think about it. Maybe too much has gone without saying already.

Here, then… to the servers of the world …

1. Don’t tell me your name, okay? I don’t care what your name is and I won’t remember it, anyway.
2. Don’t imply that you and I are together. “We” aren’t feeling any particular way and “we” aren’t having an appetizer. I am. If you want an appetizer, buy one.
3. Don’t tell me that you’ll “be taking care of me tonight.” That phrase puts images in my head that I’d rather not be there, especially if you’re a guy.
4. I don’t want cracked pepper on my salad. I didn’t want it in 1972 and I don’t want it now.
5. When I thank you for bringing me my meal, please don’t say, “No problem.” How easy or difficult it is for you to do your job is of no interest to me.
6. Don’t ask me what I’m reading.
7. Unless I invite you to sit at my table, you may not do so.
8. Please don’t try to up-sell me on the water. That’s just weird.

All I want – all I want – is for you to bring me my order as quickly as possible. Do that without embellishment and I’ll tip you 20%. Easy peasy. Deal?