"what can i get you folks" news and stories

Railing against cell phones in restaurants is one of those reliable screeds that seem to create sudden bonhomie whenever it's voiced. Like complaining about cold weather or high gas prices, ranting about cell-phone etiquette is a surefire way to win friends at bars and office parties.

The New York Times devoted a front-page story to the topic over a decade ago, quoting an incensed Danny Meyer, "'If clouds of cigarette smoke and pungent fragrances were the dining room scourges of the '80s, then the rampant, inconsiderate use of cell phones in restaurants has become their baneful heir as we approach the year 2000."

So what's left to say about technology at the table? All I can add is a server's perspective – from which electronic gadgets don't always look so bad.

Read on for more of our server's thoughts on technology at the table...

I distinctly remember the first time I went out to eat with a college friend, with whom I'd probably shared a thousand cafeteria meals. In the school dining room, she'd struck me as a fairly well-mannered eater: She chewed with her mouth closed, asked politely for the salt and pepper and always cleared her tray. And since I knew her to be a kind and caring person, I figured she probably had the restaurant comportment thing down.

Which is why I was stunned when she told our server, "Yeah, you can bring me scrambled eggs, bacon and wheat toast."

"You can bring me?!" Did she really think the server had been waiting all morning for the privilege of delivering a breakfast plate to our table? In my friend's defense, I suspect she was rather oblivious to her phrasing (and most everything else -- she went on to pour sugar all over her eggs, mistaking the white granules for salt.) But the construction still rankled me.

When I was a senior in high school, I participated in the first-ever Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Since confidentiality laws prevented me from accompanying my psychotherapist parents' to their sessions, I ended up trailing a server at an upscale restaurant – an assignment that probably would have made Gloria Steinem shudder.

I'd never been in a restaurant kitchen until I cleared tables at The Lord Fox, a fabulously patrician eatery that still serves beef Wellington and crab-stuffed avocados. I recall having two concurrent revelations that day: Servers don't get a lunch break, and most diners leave food on their plates. To the disgust of my schoolmates who'd also landed the restaurant work gig, I nibbled on leftover steak sandwiches, ate the bacon out of BLTs and finished off any remaining French fries before rinsing the dishes.

Eating out can be a rather nasty business. Even in restaurants that exceed their state's cleanliness standards, food is generally handled by a succession of bare hands – some of them crawling with germs. Innumerable elements of the prototypical great dining experience – crowding together with friends, sharing appetizers, shaking the manager's hand at the end of an evening well-spent – are an epidemiologist's worst nightmare.

As servers, we're constantly exposed to all sorts of viruses. That's why it galls me that so many diners make the situation worse by ignoring hygiene altogether.

Of course, we can't quarantine cold-sufferers. But having the sniffles is not license to leave your wadded-up tissues all over your booth and half-sucked lozenges on your table. Why must so many diners treat linen napkins like handkerchiefs?

Sellers of surveillance cameras and point-of-sale systems make a big deal about how much restaurant employees steal: According to some estimates, staffers nationwide cheat their employers out of more than $8 billion a year.

That's a massive number. Even scarier for restaurant owners, most of the losses don't come in the form of easily foiled capers in which employees are stuffing their pants with steaks or siphoning beer off the taps. Instead, presumably well-meaning servers are giving away appetizers, failing to ring up coffees and helping themselves to fountain drinks. With management's blessing, my coworkers and I probably drink about 40 to-go cups of soda and tea every night.

But restaurant workers aren't the only culprits: A startlingly high number of customers filch what doesn't belong to them, and their motives are rarely innocuous. Intent on securing a souvenir or, perhaps, saving money on silverware, many restaurant guests treat the table like an all-you-can-take smorgasbord. And as the recession wears on, the problem seems to be getting worse.

Cutlery's by far the most popular item with thieving foodies, who seem to fancy specialized utensils like oyster forks and lobster crackers. A pint glass with the restaurant's name on it might as well be inscribed with the words "steal me." And while I've heard of customers pinching plates, candleholders and art, diners in my section seem to favor smaller trinkets.