Now that doesn’t bother me at all . . . I assume it’s a bookkeeping matter (esp if the reservation has been made through OpenTable or similar third party service that tracks such things).
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Irritating AF.
Ohhh, the Royal “We”. Arrggghhh…
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The older I get, the less patience I have with that sort of pretentious garbage.
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If the asker is standing at the desk and checking off names, I understand. That’s not what I meant.
Fun fact: I was born without patience 
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Years ago I was working in Toronto when a notable NBC newsman blew into town./ He invited me to dinner, but as he had an interview slated for later that evening, we were forced to go to his hotel’s rather cavernous and pretentious restaurant and have an early meal. It was totally empty. Virtually devoid of human life save for we two and the maitre d’, a sleek young fellow fairly dripping with oleaginous charm. At our request for a table he turned and scanned the room’s vast and virginal expanse. It was a bravura performance: he did it twice, the second time rising slightly on his toes, as if for a better view of the far-distant corners. At last he smiled to us and led us to a table about 10 feet away. At length he returned with the wine list, tasseled and gaudy thing the size of a doormat. Now, my host knew his way around wine to the extent that the French government had appointed him to some sort of “légion d’honneur” for his services to French cuisine. (It was represented by a small, “très discret” rosette in his lapel, and he wore it lightly, unlike modern Boomer and Yuppie wine experts, who can’t wait to tell you how much they know, and you don’t, whether you like it or not. ) Which was exactly what our maitre was now doing. He was in full song when my host, having had enough, handed the doormat back to him and gently shut him up with “We’ll have the red.”
I have no idea of what wine we got in the end. Our maitre could have assumed we were mere rubes, and given us plonk or, sniffing an expense account charge card in the offing, provided the priciest jug in the cellar. All this was too many years ago. My own knowledge of wine was adequate to the sign in Tim Costello’s old saloon on Third Ave., which read “Wines. Red $2, White $2. No substitutions,” so did–or do–I care. The performance was the thing.
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This captures my meaning perfectly.
We recently experienced another annoying, “would you like to add such and such to your appetizer/salad/entrée, etc.” this week for two different meals, a dinner and a breakfast. Reading the menu we noticed all sorts of ‘wishes’ and ‘adds’ that were possible. We chose not to go that route when ordering. Yet, the ‘orderer’ persisted in asking and suggesting the plethera of ‘others’. Jeez. We don’t eat out very often, usually just for special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries. I know the restaurant wants to make as much profit off the meal with the diner’s experience. I just don’t care for the additional proding for an extra and politely decline.
Is there a reason restaurants do not have ovens? ‘Slow roasted prime rib’ arrives with cross hatch grill marks. That is how it was presented . “That’s the way we do it”. Not for me, thank you. Other did appear to have been run under the salamander.
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I was snickering about that at a restaurant Wednesday night. They were having a happy hour with certain of their oysters at the “special” price of $2/per(*) and only about 1/5 of the tables taken.
Then my wife mentioned she figured it was to mark us as arrived if we did have one.
(*) It’s been so long since I’ve had oysters that my brain still thought they should be $12/dozen, not $4/ea or $45/dozen “regular” price.
Edit - like @gaffk said, this was a bookkeeping exercise since she did have an iPad in hand. Not the situation you meant.
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My wife really irritated me a lot when we first were together w/ her desire to totally change what was on offer to her liking… how bad was it? A pretty good analogy would be asking for a beef burgundy w/ a white sauce 
(she got better 
)
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I find it strange when I walk into a restaurant that advertises that it is a “fine dining” restaurant, but above the bar is a large-screen TV tuned to a sports channel. That, to me, makes if a sports bar, not fine dining.
I went to such a restaurant recently. The music, which was louder than tolerable, was something with a driving beat, which to me is not conducive to a relaxed meal. When that music ended it was followed by more of the same drivel. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
BTW, the staff was young (early 30’s). When I was that age, it seems that the restaurants all played music you could listen to without wanting to leave in a hurry.
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Maybe if you were that age now you wouldn’t want to leave in a hurry? Just a thought 
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I doubt it as I’ve never liked that type of music; okay, maybe when I was a teenager, but not in my 20’s
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On holiday in California, my wife and I ended up at 1pm at a town called Olema, if I recall correctly. The signboard outside a restaurant had one word on it: “Cioppino”, which we love. On entering the restaurant, which was mostly empty, we we told by the sole waiter that it was fully booked. In a remote location like that, at 1pm on a Sunday, I suspect that he looked at the color of my skin (I’m Goan), and decided that I was not welcome there.
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That is both the saddest and most infuriating thing I have read on this site in quite some time.
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That’s awful. I’m so sorry that happened to you. People can be real shits.
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Yet another reason to abhor the practice.
Which of the 3 places in town did this?
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