The 20 Most Annoying Things Servers Do at Restaurants

From aggressive upselling to hitting on your date, these are the ways that waiters drive us crazy.

Chris Schonberger

Recently, we played devil’s advocate by suggesting that tipping should be abolished in the United States. But before the waiters across the band together to egg our offices, remember that we also told everyone to tip, at minimum, 20% in a cocktail bar. Point being, we have no vendetta against all the ace servers who make it a joy to eat at restaurants and drink at bars, and we will continue to tip heartily while that is still the accepted system.

What we do have a problem with, though, is being at the mercy of a waiter who undercuts everything great about going out for a meal by being a total pain in the ass. Here, we share our biggest pet peeves when dealing with restaurant staff. And for all those servers who think we’re out of line, fear not—tomorrow we will have a rebuttal from a seasoned waitress who will tell us exactly why we suck so badly at being guests.

With that, let the ranting begin. Here are the 20 most annoying things servers do at restaurants.

Introduce themselves by name.

“Hi, my name’s Glenn and I’ll be your server tonight!” Does anything induce more eye rolls at the table than this sort of chipper opening gambit? We’re going to be in each other's company for at most a few hours, and preferably about 30 minutes if the meal goes according to plan. This sort of feigned intimacy is just annoying, and always feels a little like a ploy to actually say, “Remember that I am a human being with a name and a family…so don’t stiff me on the tip, you dick!”
Touch you and think it's friendly.

I don’t need a shoulder rub while you recite the specials, or a playful tap on the arm to show that we’re hitting it off. It’s already distressing enough that you are touching the plate that I’m going to eat off of—let’s not allow the intimacy to get out of control!
Say everything that you inquire about on the menu is “really amazing."

Listen here, homie: You should be an enthusiastic booster of the restaurant, sure, but you are not the chef’s personal hype man. Put down the imaginary Flavor Flav clock and chill. We’re already at the restaurant, so presumably we came here because we thought maybe there would be some good food to eat. The sale has been made—now is your time to do your actual, non-shilling job and help us navigate the menu.
Wait forever to take your drink order, bring menus, or offer water.

The lag time between sitting down and getting started with the actual process of eating dinner is one that could easily be stricken from the restaurant experience entirely. Water and menus should just be there at the beginning. And while you might need some time to get acquainted with drinks list, this is not a 20 minute activity. Everyone is a lot more forgiving with a cocktail in hand, so let's cut to the chase and get things cracking. (Some bread would be nice too. Take a cue from Tex-Mex restaurants that have chips and salsa on the table at all times.)
Ask you if you've dined there before and if you "know how the restaurant works."

Usually this is code for, “Do you know that we came up with our own bootleg version of tapas so that you can spend as much money as possible?” If the restaurant requires an instruction manual, something is probably wrong.
Tell you to wait for "your waiter" when you ask for something.

This phenomenon is perhaps one of the biggest drawbacks of a gratuity-based system, in which no one actually cares about you unless they are going to get a tip out of it. At the finest restaurants, the staff is one cohesive organism of hospitality excellence, designed to ensure that you have the best time possible. At others, you are treated like a minor nuisance by anyone not directly involved in the extraction of money from your wallet. Oh, I need to wait for my “waiter” to get the cutlery that my “waiter” failed to bring me in the first place? That mentality is a real turn-off, and it is cause to reconsider a return visit.
Squat, take a knee, or sit down at your table.

Unless you are at Rao's, or some other restaurant where this move is part of the historic fabric of the place, there’s no reason to get down to eye level to take an order. In fact, it is incredibly weird and kind of makes everyone feel like maybe they are receiving a pep talk from their Little League coach. Ironically, the squat maneuver is particularly creepy when executed on small children.
Go straight for the upsell.

The lobster mac and cheese is way better than the regular one, huh? And that cabernet sauvignon is a steal at just eight times its retail value? It is so blatantly obvious—and upsetting to everyone at the table—when servers try to play you for a fool and recommend only the most expensive dishes and wines on the menu. People who are having fun and feeling like they are not being pushed and prodded tend to spend more in the long run anyway.
Make you feel like a criminal because you ordered just drinks, or just dinner, instead of seven courses and four bottles of wine.

Yes, the restaurant business is tough, and if the servers don’t turn those tables the boss will not be happy. But that is ultimately not the diner’s problem. There are egregious acts of lingering, sure, and those people who come in for a sparkling water and start reading War and Peace are clearly assholes. However, just because I am eating light today, or not ordering the requisite amount of small plates that is deemed “appropriate for a party of this size,” shouldn’t mean that I should get treated like a problem. Too few restaurants these days think about fostering regulars. Treat me equally well when I spend $10 and when I spend $500, and things will probably work out for everyone in the long run.
Ask if you need change.

In the event that I don’t want change, and I’ve rounded up the precise number of sheckles I’d like to hand over for the bill and the tip, it is my duty to let you know that. (I promise not to say, "Keep the change, you filthy animal," even though it is tempting.) Otherwise, it is presumptuous to assume that I wouldn’t want the change. Whether you get the tip I was planning to leave now or in five minutes shouldn’t matter.
Take your plate away before you are finished.

It's shocking how often this happens, and it always feels like another symptom of the get these people out of here as quickly as possible mentality of restaurants. It's especially annoying if other people at your table still have plates in front of them. Being the only person at the table without a plate is very sad and lonely. Related to this is the issue of ferrying away huge amounts of food without asking if you’d like to take it home. Don’t assume I am a wasteful American!
Overshare about their day, their job, or their life beyond the restaurant.

We can all agree that the whole notion of someone bringing you food, cleaning up your dirty dishes, raking your crumbs off the table, and witnessing the breakdown of your marriage over a bowl of clam chowder is a totally weird part of modern life. Restaurants are awkward. But we also all know how to play this game, so don’t break the fourth wall and talk about how you are actually a marine biologist and you’re getting ready to move to Alaska to study whales—or, worse still, tell a sob story about how another table stiffed you on a tip. Keep it professional, and we promise to not drag you into our arguments and ask you to arbitrate. The less we know about each other, the better.
Talk about specials without telling you the price.

Why would it be that just because something is a “special,” it is no longer important to follow the rules of the rest of the menu (i.e., disclosing the price)? We’re already wary enough that the special items are really just invented willy-nilly to get rid of excess ingredients. But even when they are legit, we want to know the price. Don’t make us ask in front of everyone and look like misers—just work that info into your five-minute spiel about how amazing the striped bass is.
Try to pass off their mistakes.

There’s nothing more unattractive than someone who passes the buck. Blaming any and all problems on the kitchen—thus making the cooks sound like a bunch of knuckledraggers who can’t get a damn thing right—is just a little too convenient. Is it really their fault that the food took an hour to come out, or did you just forget to put in the ticket? This goes back to the inherent problems with places where tips drive the level of service; if the place was working as a team, you wouldn’t see people throwing their colleagues under the bus all the time.
Go H.A.M. with the pepper and Parmesan.

The “tell me when to stop” game is really playing with fire, especially when servers’ reaction time is like four heaping scoops of cheese too slow. By the time they're done, you’re often left to excavate your actual dinner from underneath a massive pile of stale peppercorns and Parmesan. Basically, this whole process needs to be slowed down and taken more seriously. Or just let me do it myself.
Write a nice message on the receipt with hearts dotting the i’s and smiley faces all over the place.

In service, as in life, there is a fine line between attentive and creepy. Middle school-style exclamations of affection, scrawled awkwardly on a post-meal check, are rarely rewarded with larger tips. Instead, these drawings often instill a type of fear usually reserved for backwoods gas stations. So next time you’re thinking about adding a little pizzazz to the bill, hold back. Professionalism trumps all.
Hit on your date.

Listen here, guy. Just because food is the new rock and you've got a really sweet 5-o'clock shadow doesn't mean you've got lead singer rights. Have respect.
Fold your napkin for you when you get up.

This is generally a “fancy” restaurant move, but it is annoying nonetheless. Why are you touching my soiled linens? (Confession: There are boogers in there.) While an old-school sense of decorum and attention to detail is undoubtedly respectable, certain conventions need to pass. A neat table is great on arrival, but unsettling on every return from the toilets.
Ask if you'd like "another" Coke instead of "more" Coke.

Okay, I get that this is code for “no free refills.” But don't assume I am a cheap bastard. (I am, so what?). Still, if I want TWO COKES, I will order a second one with confidence. I am aware that not every restaurant is awesome enough to kick in an extra soda on the house.
Disappear.

Sure, all of the stuff mentioned thus far can be annoying, but I’d much prefer a sycophantic, upselling, wine-spilling creep than someone who simply leaves me hanging. The accepted rules of decorum dictate that you can’t get up and serve yourself—unless you have Larry David–type gumption—so when the server straight up ignores you or goes missing, you are overcome by an infuriating sense of futility. Adding salt to the wound is when the server finally reappears at the end of the meal with the check, smiling as if everything is all good.

The 20 Most Annoying Things Servers Do at Restaurants

Introduce themselves by name.

Touch you and think it's friendly.

Say everything that you inquire about on the menu is “really amazing."

Wait forever to take your drink order, bring menus, or offer water.

Ask you if you've dined there before and if you "know how the restaurant works."

Tell you to wait for "your waiter" when you ask for something.

Squat, take a knee, or sit down at your table.

Go straight for the upsell.

Make you feel like a criminal because you ordered just drinks, or just dinner, instead of seven courses and four bottles of wine.

Ask if you need change.

Take your plate away before you are finished.

Overshare about their day, their job, or their life beyond the restaurant.

Talk about specials without telling you the price.

Try to pass off their mistakes.

Go H.A.M. with the pepper and Parmesan.

Write a nice message on the receipt with hearts dotting the i’s and smiley faces all over the place.

Hit on your date.

Fold your napkin for you when you get up.

Ask if you'd like "another" Coke instead of "more" Coke.

Disappear.

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