He saunters over to our table like he owns the place, but he’s just our server. “Cheers,” he says (about 30 times before the evening is over.) He tells us his name, something trendy like “Dillon,” (I changed his name because I’m really not picking on him, too much) and ceremoniously announces he’ll be taking care of us (what a relief!) — in his own sweet time as it turns out.
The service wasn’t really bad, per se, just lax. Of course, we were in a Texas ice house and the vibe is cathartically laid back to begin with. It seems as if everyone is moving in slow motion, even the guests. Maybe that’s just Texas time and I’ve been out of my home state too long to recall the dawdling pace.
Most folks fall into one of two camps regarding the friendliness of servers. I’ve got nothing against friendly, or casual service for that matter, but I tend to not like my server sitting down at the table with us to take our order, or even sitting on a chair at a nearby table. Or leaning their butt on a nearby chair as Dillon was prone to do, which technically isn’t sitting down, but still conveys the same assumed familiarity. It just sends a message that the server doesn’t really want to be a server.
Hard to fault anyone for that — I know I never liked waiting tables. But I never sat down with my customers because it just isn’t professional. I don’t care how casual the joint is. So what’s the point of this post? Nothing really, just an observation about another restaurant pet peeve I have, ranked right after # 1 — waiters swiping plates before I’m finished eating.