The Squeeze

Excuse me a moment while I vent, but what do customers mean when they call a restaurant 4 hours before service on a Saturday night and ask to be squeezed in? A restaurant that, mind you, is doing about 250 covers between the hours of 6:30 and 8:30 pm. Where exactly would you like us to squeeze you? In between tables? In the bathrooms, perhaps? How about the coat check? We are not lying to you when we say we don’t have a table. It is not a power trip for us. We are simply trying to ensure that all of our customers are seated and served in a timely fashion, and that they are all able to enjoy their evening out with us.

Also, what is the obsession with needing a reservation at 7:30? Is there no other time your stomach can ingest food? What will happen if your reservation isn’t until 7:45? Will you spontaneously combust? Cause, I’ve yet to see it, so...SIMMER DOWN! Because, inevitably, you will end up running late and then give us some big song and dance about traffic, as though this is the first time that’s ever occurred in New York. Make the reservation at 7. You are going to arrive whenever you want anyway, so what’s the difference?

And, also, ladies, when I ask you your name, I don’t need to hear Mrs. Dr. Harold Goldenberg. Do you have your own identity? What’s the matter with you?! And, gentleman, STOP blaming EVERYTHING on your wives. They’ve taken your entire name and title as their own; the least you can do is take some responsibility once in a while. Oh, and dear doctors, telling me your name is Dr. David Shaprio M.D. is redundant and unnecessary. I GET it. Do you?

Going out for dinner is supposed to be fun, a party, a treat. We’re talking about food and wine for crying out loud. Why all the drama? I mean, to quote some of my favorite customers, “In this economy?” Really? Chillax! Eat, drink and be merry. The world will keep on turning, regardless.