Wake up and smell the fresh air.

I’ve recently started working at another restaurant.

(No, I’m not sadomasochistic– I just need to pay RENT.)

Anyway, this place has an expansive outdoor patio area, consisting of twelve four-top tables. That’s in addition to the main dining area (with about 13 tables) and an upstairs (with about 15 more). The place isn’t usually packed, but given the great weather lately, people have been clamoring for the patio seats.

This would be fine, except for one detail: At THIS restaurant, average sitting time is an hour and a half.

And most people stay for well over two.

See, this isn’t a “family-friendly diner” or a cutesy little eatery. It’s pretty much a bar with fine-dining intertwined into the experience.

So here’s the fun part about being a hostess at a place like this: While the wait time for the restaurant is typically always “0 minutes”, the wait time for the patio runs between 45 minutes to an hour and a half. And for parties of six or more people, it could literally be a wait of “forever” (because we’d need to wait for two tables next to each other to get up so we could move the tables together— & we don’t hold tables for this purpose if someone else comes up asking for one)

So last night, a couple came in an requested the patio. There were three other parties on the list in front of them and no one outside had their check yet (although two girls had been sitting at their table for well over 3 hours by then)

(This is when they stumbled out, classy & drunk:)


I digress.

So, I told the couple it would be about 40 minutes until we could find them a table, but that we had really great tables upstairs by the window, which would be both cooler AND quicker (as they could be seated immediately)

After a brief period of deliberation, they decided to take the table upstairs. My manager led them up, while two more couples came in and put their names on the list for the patio.

About 10 minutes later, I saw the upstairs couple sitting at the bar and asked my manager why they weren’t upstairs. He informed me that they’d decided they wanted to wait after all.

Cue confusion.

I put them on the bottom of the waitlist, perplexed because, well, they had just given up a great table next to a window (AND the chance of even SEEING food in the next 2 hours) for… a patio seat?


Where the heck is the logic in waiting at a bar for 2 hours while the night becomes less agreeable, without the guarantee that you’ll even be seated outside after all?? You’re wasting your life away, people.

As it turns out, they sat at the bar for a little over an hour, staring me down in my periphery while I seated the tables in front of them at 40-minute intervals, until I finally went over and told them that no one was getting up outside and they’d probably be better off eating in the restaurant. They eagerly agreed, and I sat them inside. In the main dining room. Nowhere near a window.

So not only did they waste almost 2 hours of their lives WAITING, but they got the crummier table AND they lost out on precious outdoor time.

I just don’t get it. And honestly, I probably never will.


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