Ask Manuel!
Chum Natalie contacted me at Fillet Towers, via the often misunderstood medium of , with a waiter/guest related question.
"I was in a cafe yesterday & the waiter insisted on telling me the specials. I felt bad interrupting him to say, listen I just fancy the burger & chips. (I know, I'm classy) he proceeded to tell me about the fish, how he had tried it in Portugal la la la, och, he was a nice bloke but my throat was in my mouth thinking 'this guy is gonna kill me when I say just want a burger & chip.'
What should a customer do in this situation?"
It's a good question Nats and I'm glad you asked it. I have pondered this in my own spongy brain and have sought council from Waiter Chums both young and old. I have checked the many many volumes and dusty tomes on best practice and etiquette that line the walls of the library here at Fillet Towers and I think I have come up with the correct answer. That's why it took a few days to get back to you and had nothing at all to do with me sitting on my fantastically padded ass eating heathen chocolates and throwing slippers and tin cans at the television as it spewed hour after hour of mindless gibber jabber, gobbledygook and if it's not too bold a word, shite over the Easter weekend.
First things first, never interrupt the waiter whilst they are reciting the specials. I mean there are fewer things likely to get the guest/waiter relationship off to a bad start than cutting him off as he tells you all about the wonderful salad made with various random ingredients from the bottom of the chef's fridge. You can kiss the waiter's ass for the rest of the meal but he will still be miffed about your perceived rudeness. We are a very sensitive breed. I mean once offended getting the waiter to visit your table is like trying to coax a kitten from out of the safety of it's box. But probably less cute.
This also applies to other occasions when the waiter has to list something - beers, wines, whiskies etc. And anyhoo if you have a waiter who is willing to volunteer information you should be grateful as most as, as AA Gill put it, are like captured enemy servicemen, that is to say they will tell you their name, their rank and fuck all else.
Now if the waiter is terribly excited about today's special then I suggest you should go ahead and order it. The waiter knows, seriously they do. If it's just something thrown together and smothered in a sauce in a vain attempt by the chef to keep costs down the waiter will not sell the special. They will either not mention it at all or will list it and it's dodgy ingredients like they were reading the phone book. But if it's something that's as interesting as going for a pint with Eddie Izzard then the waiter will sell it to you with all the vigour and conviction of a man who is trying to raise money for his kid's life saving operation. Even if it's not what you wanted to eat I suggest you go for it and not just because the waiter will hold it against you if you don't but because chances are it will be aces. Much like what you'd imagine going for a pint with Eddie Izzard would be like.
But if you really really don't want the exotic fish and have had your heart set on a burger n chips then you need to lie. If the waiter is in danger of taking your refusal of the special fish as a personal insult you need to lie your little socks off because, like I say, you don't want to spend the rest of the meal looking around the restaurant for the waiter for every little thing you need. Tell him you're allergic. Tell him you had fish for lunch or dinner or breakfast. Tell him his burgers are just so bloody awesome it's all you can think about. Do what ever you must to keep him onside just make sure that he feels like the most special thing in the restaurant other than the fish.
Seriously, waiters eh, more sensitive than a mouthful of cracked teeth and ice cream.
Nats I hope that answer's your question...
Next!
The obvious way out of this little scenario would have been to put on a ‘Mid-Western’ accent perhaps? I mean come on… think about it for the love of god!
Just say (after he’s finished) “Gizza burgurr and chaps, mate.”
Voila! Next time you’re in, no hearing the specials
Mid Western as in Clare and Tipperary etc? I’m not sure people know how….heh
Belfast Barista: heh….that’s what most people do before you get to the ned of the first sentence….sake
Oh and I’m taking questions….don’t be shy now….
When someone comes into the Salt Mine (as I like to call BPC’s place of gainful employment) and asks ‘are there any specials’ I know this is shorthand for ‘why isn’t there any steak/chicken/curry chips on the menu?’. This is my cue to recommend something I know that they won’t like and see the look of terror on their face.
Ha! Yeah I love telling them the only thing special on tonight is me….doesn’t work so well with some chaps….plus I do enjoy it when people think special means cheaper and II hit them with a £30 main course bill…niceeee
I have my own theory on this sort of thing, that I have learned to keep quiet from most waiters, especially french ones, or at least ones with parisian temperaments.
When someone demands a plate of chips or a milkshake or a bag of crisps, the waiter will feel instantly as if he has gotten nowhere in his career – he might as well still be shoving Big Macs into boxes for mooks like he did when he was sixteen if these idiots don’t even know what a halibut is, let alone want to try it. It offends both the waiters deep love of food and his station in life. The waiter wants to feel as special as the food in his restaurant is, and it’s very hard to do that shoving fish fingers down in front of miserable bastards all night. Now this is where my theory gets controversial, at least when I put it to my waiter chums – all you need is a little bit of a smokescreen. It has worked for years for snooty chefs who love to serve things made of foam and call custard créme anglais, so I’m hoping it might work for waiters (though you lot are exponentially higher on the evolutionary chain, I grant you)
My proposal is, put simply, the next time you want burger and chips, ask your friendly (at the moment) waiter for the pan-fried hachis de boeuf, avec fromage fondu dans le bouclés frites. Tell me any sane waiter wouldn’t skip off with glee to get you that. Tell me, Manuel, that even you would have been quite happy to order bouclés frites until you translated it. I hope I have proved my theory.
P.S. my french might be a little rustier than I had thought, but I think my point still stands…
“parisian temperaments” – ha
“exponentially higher on the evolutionary chain” – damn right
You’re not wrong…i once had this young french woman ask me for poulet goujons…i nearly shat….sexiest thing ever…the goujons, when they arrived, were not
it the server can go to the trouble to provide a detailed recitation of specials – complete with a performance – then i’ll bite. unfortunately, when they go through a list of beers, and they are brew-pub craft beers, i lose interest early and just ask for a stella or something…
ha, fair enough…nothing more boring than a beer nerd…
Here’s my question. You go into a restaurant, get seated by some mardy waiter who’s obviously on his man-moons or something, maybe United got knocked out of some glorified kick-about, let him tell you the specials, yadda, yadda, eventually culminating in your dinner arriving.
All normal so far, stay with me. Then, up pops Mr fucking Ben, asking me if I want pepper, hovering over the plate, two hands clenched around this… this… pepper grinder.
What’s that about?
Leave the fucking pepper on the table!
It’s not diamond encrusted saffron. It’s not dark matter. It’s not fucking kryptonite nor is it the bounty off the first ship medieval ship to call up in port and it hasn’t just spent the last 3 months traversing The Alps on the back of a tamed elephant.
And guess what, I know how a pepper mill works too.
If I wanted some I’d want to put on the amount I wanted not what the waiter thinks I should have and I’d want it on certain bits of my dinner not rained in from on high over the whole shebang.
Why the ludicrous, outdated, black pepper ceremony? Why? Why?
hahahaha…you’ll be waiting a week for an answer to that one…
Nothing seems to annoy them more than when they get to the end of the specials recital and I say “What was the middle part again?” because I honestly forgot. Look, someone had to take notice of that splotch on their apron shaped like Albania, it might be worth something on eBay.
Is it still verboten to fondle the waiter’s arse?
This advice is absolute priceless. Can we have more ‘Ask Manuel?’ posts?
I get into that situation all the time and sometimes I even forget to leave a tip…
Here’s my query: How come most restaurants on this side of the pond (or maybe it’s just a Belfast thang) don’t let you leave a tip with your credit card? It drives me up the wall. Either bring some cash, which, since I’m an idiot, I never do, or have wifey and I dig every single piece of change out of our pockets and leave that which is just awkward and unpleasant for all involved.
Down with the black pepper ceremony definitely!! I know how to work it, I won’t nick it and you’re welcome to grab it off the table when you need it. There is nothing worse than having someone season my dinner infront/over me, it’s not upstairs downstairs **deep breaths** rant over.
Please, Please add a section on the importance of not removing the napkin on the underplate to your rules of eating in a restaurant. **quivering with rage as several soup/pasta bowls smash on the ground like so many Delph fireworks** ‘You got a napkins with your knife and fork you pedestrian, use it!’
Fat Sprrow: bwahahahaha….nice
MJ: TOTALLY!
White Rabbit: yes, just ask a question…
Killer: you’re an odd fellow eh…
Colm and Lilwell: questions/comments noted and have been queued for pondering…
How do I stop the waiter from continually topping up my wine glass without
(1) stabbing him with a fork
(2) placing the wine bottle at the farthest away point of the table so he can not reach it.
If he takes away the unfinished wine bottle to his station after filling the glasses, is it justification for a forking?
NO! NO FORKING….that’s my job. A simple hand over the glass and a cheesy wink that makes you look like you are constipated should suffice…
OK, I walk into a restaurant and a waiter ambles over, one look at the poor fellow and you can see he`s had the worst day EVER. His uniform is splattered with food, wine and maybe a bit of blood, he grunts and shakes his head in the direction of the table. As we make our way over, the shuffling of his feet and the movement of his body suggest one hour of sleep last night.
He mumbles “sit yerselves down, the specials today are…” in the voice like the Priest with the really boring voice from Father Ted. Now I`m only a customer, but I think I would take a minute to think of the welfare of our waiter chums.
So Manuel, without crossing the palm of the waiters hand with a note (of the monetary value, perish the thought it would be any other kind)) or a twisty lolly from Tesc of Os, or even a silly joke involving an Englishman, Irishman and a Scotsman, how do I cheer the waiter up and put a spring in his step for the rest of the day?
Hey, Manuel. So what’s the gen on people saying to waiters “No, no fat boy, I want to be served by the cute little lady in the cute little apron”? And even if not served by the lovely thing, is it OK to just hand her a tenner for looking nice? After all, it’s my meal out, I’m paying. Surely I should be able to select waiting staff along with my food?
Is that sort of thing allowed, and if not, should I stop doing this? Or do you think it’s considered to be charming or quirky even?
Er.. I should make it clear that my friend wants to know.
We had dinner at a yummy tapas restaurant “Salamanca” tonight.
Sole with asparagus in a lemon butter and an incredible avacado salad.
Nothing cheers you up like a good dinner.
I bow to your trade, Manuel.
Medbh: sounds just amazing…
Alf and Sparky: I’ll get back to you later….Alf, you better watch it….sorry your friend had better watch it…heh