My Saturday Night as a Zoo Animal
Last night, my husband and I went out to dinner at a major chain dining establishment. This particular establishment is known for a prominent red & white decorating theme and having Americana all over the walls. The name of this establishment features initials and a day of the week. Now you know the establishment of which I write.
Ordinarily, I really like this place. The food is good, the prices are reasonable, and the wait-staff is friendly and eager to please. Last night, though, I had one of the worst dining experiences I've ever had.
I've never gone to this place on the East side of Madison that I didn't have to wait. Last night was no different, with people stacked 3 deep everywhere waiting to be seated. Prince Charming and I waited 25 minutes and were finally seated in the bar. (We had chosen first available seating.) I wish to point out at this time that it was just the two of us. Despite this, they seated us at a quasi-table that actually seats 8. I call it a quasi-table because it was bar-height, with bar stool chairs, and the table surface was only so deep -- I could actually reach the opposite edge of the table by extending my arm from my seated position. It was actually as shallow as a bar. All of this was fine, except for the obvious fact that we were two people seated at a table for 8.
In any event, we were seated. Before our waiter even arrived, people began to descend at our table in the vacant 6 seats. In addition to the seated squaters, we also had numerous people standing around these people, all overflow people looking for somewhere to wait for their own tables. I thought it was a bit weird to be sharing our table with all of these strangers, but I figured some member of the staff would fix the situation. To be perfectly clear, this was a table, we were not seated at the bar.
Lo and behold, our waiter comes and takes our drink orders. As he is departing, he dutifully tells the 10 usurpers that this is our table and that they will need to move along. They all seemed offended, seeing as how there was not an abundance of space and clearly we weren't using all of the seats. Nevertheless, they seemed to move off and leave my husband and I to our relative privacy.
That is, until the waiter had departed, whereupon they reclaimed their previous spots. Although, technically they did not actually sit, they were still crowding around our table and using the surface to hold all of their drinks. They leaned against the chairs, leaned against our table, and essentially made our table feel as a community trough.
As though the space were some sort of secret mission, they all made to turn their backs, appearing to play by the rules, each time our waiter visited the table. But of course, this must get worse. Eventually, one part of our gaggle left, their own table being ready. However, now other people came in and decided to join us, and now we had people who were unaware that this was our "table".
Of course, it should have been a big clue, the fact that our waiter took our order and nobody else's, that he was defering to our every whim, and that...hello!...he brought food to the "table". But no, these people continued to play their little game, adding a new feature. Yes! It is zoo time! They watched us eat. I kid you not! It was like some wildlife program or something. I could hear Robin Leach narrating,
"See heah. The wild male of the chapman species prefers the meat of the pig. See how he tears the flesh from the ribs? He is trully making a mess, but the male chapman seems to be enjoying his meal! See how he relishes the sauce with his fried potato? That is a signatory characteristic of the feeding young male chapman. Turn your site now to the female of the species. It appears her diet is somewhat different. She has chosen more greenery for her meal, with some fowl on the top for protein. She too has her sauce, but this appears to be some sort of a hot bacon dressing. She is somewhat more skittish and shy than her male companion, so be careful not to get too close. She also appears to be somewhat more careful in the partaking of her meal and is making nearly no mess. Perhaps she is aware that we spy. In any event, watch as they masticate. Also note that the female partakes of what is known in the wild as an "appletini". You are really getting a treat now!"
They watched us like we were the floor show! It was so rude! I can't even begin to describe it! Ordinarily when one dines out there are other diners, but they are consumed with their own food and their own companions. In this instance however, we were bugs under glass. They watched us and they resented us.
Nearing the end of the evening I nearly lost it. One lady was there with her husband and son. When her husband pointed to our table and suggested that they sit, she said "no. that is their table." They continued to stand in front of our table with their backs to us (except for their son who stared me down like he wanted to slit my throat and steal my salad). However, about 20 minutes later, as we were about 1/2-way into our meal, they decide to sit anyway. They seat their son across from us and use the table space to store their drinks. The kid continues to stare. That's when I really got pissed off.
By her own admission this woman knew her behavior was wrong. For god's sake all of these people knew that they were being inordinately rude. Did that stop them? Hell no! So I tried to eat my meal, but in the end discovered it difficult to eat when you are being watched so closely. Literally, I felt the enmity and the jealousy. I felt as though they were chasing me from the place!
To be fair, I can't blame my waiter. He did mention it to our first wave of squaters. He didn't seat us at a table for 8. He didn't really scare anybody else off, but I know we weren't his only table. No. I blame the fool manager who seated us there to begin with. Seating two people at a table for 8 is really stupid! I blame the restaurant owner as well, who would be advised that the space would give itself to two booths easily and would give him another table to rotate and would also free the unlucky temporary denizens of these tables from the constant watching of the other customers. There are other booths in this bar area and none of them receive this kind of treatment from the other patrons. It is simple. Those tables are recognized as tables and are given respect. And that simple fact seems to be enough to keep people's manners in check.
Mostly I blame those rude individuals who took advantage of the situation. They knew their behavior was wrong. They knew they were being rude. They did it anyway. I felt their enmity directed my way. I certainly was made to feel uncomfortable and like a zoo animal. Why didn't I say something? Believe me, I considered it. I didn't feel I should have to police a table that I was essentially renting. I didn't feel it was my job, I was a guest afterall. I felt that it would have availed me nothing, knowing these people already knew better. What good is my admonition, that of a 5'3" brunette? So I was terrorized by the tyranny of the fact that quite clearly I have the better manners.
And the cretins took advantage.
If I ever go back I will be sure to make it plain that I will not sit at that table. And, I'm still considering writing a scathing letter to the local owner and the corporate headquarters.
What do you think? Am I overreacting?
