Two Restaurant Pet Peeves

Peeve #1:

I love water. It is my favorite drink. I rarely drink anything with alcohol in a restaurant, I avoid carbonated beverages, I don’t like sweet drinks and I don’t enjoy juice with any meal except breakfast. My drink of choice is ice water. What peeves me is the often not-so-subtle reaction that I get when that’s what I order to drink.

Yesterday the water that I got was about 15C. I asked for ice water and got a glass with maybe three small ice cubes. This isn’t the first time that I have been punished with poor service when I’ve ordered water. Is it policy that customers that don’t order drinks are to be punished this way, or is it the server thinking, “This cheap bastard isn’t ordering a drink, so I’ll get a smaller tip!” (The truth is, when the bill comes, I add the cost of a drink and it’s tax to the bill before calculating my tip, unless this has happened.)

On the other hand, I have had some servers offer to leave a pitcher of ice water at my table, if I wanted.  They get a good tip, because they deserve it;  they understand the importance of customer service.

Peeve #2:

Lately, I’ve been faced with the uncomfortable situation of being seated by a amply-endowed young woman proudly displaying her bosom on a few occasions. Why is this necessary? If I wanted such a display, I’d go to Hooter’s. I don’t consider myself a prude, but there is an enormous difference between an attractive bit of cleavage and a massive showing of the Intermammoral Canyon©. Am I supposed to overlook substandard food or poor service for the opportunity to look some young girl’s breasts? They even seem to act like sex-workers: they greet you with a forced half-smile as if to say, “Hello, these are my boobs. Aren’t they lovely? Now if you’ll follow my swaying ass, I’ll lead you to your table.”

Here’s some old news: Sex sells, to some at least. I don’t buy, however.

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