When restaurant-goers talk about the scary things they've encountered while eating out, their conversation usually edges toward hygiene infractions and undercooked food. But what really frightens diners is the sight of a server without a notepad.

Like most servers who daylight as journalists (there are more of us than you might imagine), I'm perfectly comfortable taking notes while talking. Still, I won't break out pen and paper for parties smaller than five. That's because I believe writing down orders disrupts my eye contact with my customers and detracts from my ability to build relationships with them. Good service calls for more than mere transcription.

But I suspect my high-minded reasons for not taking notes wouldn't fly with the most skeptical guests, who like to insist I won't be able to recall their request for grilled salmon. "Are you sure you're going to remember this?," they'll ask repeatedly.

If a guest seems especially anxious, I'll make a point of writing his or her order down. But here's what I'd like to tell those nervous Nellies: Yes, I am going to remember your order. Because while the menu may bewilder you, I've been serving from it for years. It takes more than a house salad with ranch on the side and a medium-well steak to confuse me.

New York Times blogger Bruce Buschel has done a great service by compiling a list of 100 Things Restaurant Staffers Should Never Do – if nothing else, he's given fed-up diners one more forum in which to vent their ever-mounting aggravations. Thanks for the break, Bruce.

Most diners and servers would stand behind the majority of Buschel's prescriptions, which include not cursing (Rule 45), opening Champagne without making a ruckus (Rule 29) and knowing what the bar stocks (Rule 81). But his list is far from perfect. While Buschel's document would make a fine training manual for butlers, it fails to acknowledge the realities of running a restaurant. Here's what Buschel apparently forgot:

Some things are beyond a server's control.

One of Buschel's first recommendations (Rule 4) is to offer a free drink to someone who's had to wait a long time for a table. "The guest may be hungry and thirsty," he explains. May be? I think it's a safe assumption that anyone who shows up at a restaurant is craving food and drink. But I don't know of a single server who's empowered to start giving that stuff away.

The same goes for Rule 23, which insists diners be alerted to 86'd items before they open their menus. Since the hostess usually drops off menus when she seats a table, cutting her off would require Usian Bolt-speed (and necessitate breaking Rule 33 – Do not bang into chairs or tables.)

Hostesses, of course, should brief diners on which items are no longer available. But often they don't, just as the kitchen often turns out the first appetizer on a ticket a full 12 minutes before the second appetizer is ready. I completely agree that servers should "bring all the appetizers at the same time" (Rule 60), but I won't let a tray of raw oysters sit in the window while a new guy struggles to properly heat a dish of crab dip.

Serious diners may revile the open restaurant kitchen as noisy and passé, but the worst behaved among them should thank their lucky stars for the unfortified layout. After all, it's much harder for a server to spit in their food with everyone in the room watching.

But no amount of interior decorating can stop servers from taking revenge on their most miserable customers. Cads who pat their servers' behinds and cheapskates who order water, sugar and lemon instead of paying for lemonade should know their hijinks don't go unnoticed: Even the sweetest-seeming server will punish offenses at the table -- usually smiling all the while.

Spitting gets all the press, but few servers at sit-down restaurants like to mess with bodily fluids: Spitting's considered a rather déclassé and uninspired way of getting back at customers. Savvy restaurant workers aim for pocketbooks, not their guests' immune systems.

Photo: David Sifry, Flickr.

Just like heroic epics and Hollywood romances, server horror stories tend to unfold according to a very specific formula: Server meets guests. Guests like server. Server takes order. Server disappears.

While servers who spill coffee on their guests or forget to bring an extra fork are generally forgiven, there's no redemption for servers who vanish. Without their server in sight, guests feel neglected, trapped and exasperated by the entire eating-out experience. It's a rotten situation, which is why most diners who've posted here about terrible service have admitted to at some point wondering where their server went.

Assuming that question is sometimes posed sincerely, I offer here a few solutions to the Case of the Missing Server. Note that these explanations aren't excuses: Great servers don't go AWOL, ever. But there are many rational reasons, unapparent to guests, why servers can't be found. He or she just might be ...

1. Splitting checks. Here's one task that's become more laborious with the advent of computers. To prevent employee theft, most electronic point-of-sale systems are designed to make shifting guest tabs a tricky, multi-step process. Woe to the server who accidentally sticks Seat 3's fried wonton app on Seat 4's bill: On some popular systems, such an error can only be corrected by recombining the entire check and starting over. Creating six separate checks -- and gathering up six pens for signing them -- can take a server off the floor for up to five minutes (which, to a guest waiting for an iced tea refill, feels like an hour).

Photo: stopnlook, flickr

Many of you honestly believe restaurant servers have a cushy job that requires them to do little more than deliver food to a table and collect $180 an hour for their trouble. Fine. I'd like to call a temporary truce in the great "Are waitresses worth their keep?" debate and focus on another front-of-the-house staffer this week: The hostess.

Like most servers, I've been pressed into host duty when an employee hasn't shown up (or showed up too hungover to accurately monitor the seating chart -- hostesses are almost always the youngest, most inexperienced and least committed members of a restaurant's crew.) Hostesses have it hard.

Hostesses have to deal with customers at their hungriest, thirstiest, worst. It's not uncommon for customers who feel they haven't been seated quickly enough to hurl insults at the hostess or subject her to stem-winding rants about the crooked nature of the restaurant industry.

But here's what patrons never, ever do: In my experience manning the host stands at restaurants so ritzy that my job description included turning away male guests without jackets and in eateries so casual that "please wait to be seated" signs were dismissed as snobbish affectations, nobody once offered me a bribe.

Fine dining isn't always so "fine." Sometimes that delicious meal is tainted by overcooked meat, still-frozen food, caterpillars nestled in the greens or other surprises that ruin a perfectly good dinner.

When bad luck strikes, you might want to cast a seething glare at your waiter or stamp your foot and throw a hissy fit, but if Miss Manners has taught us anything, it's that a little kindness can go a long way. The clip above outlines how to handle those unfortunate scenarios that necessitate replacement dishes. With a little tact and kindness, a friendly server should be happy to help.

Naturally, these tips tend to work best at upscale establishments. Complain at your own risk when dining at the local dive. Otherwise you might get an even less savory surprise.