I work with restaurants. I visit lots of restaurants. I talk with loads of folks who work in the restaurant business. I also have a fairly realistic grip on the fact that a good number of humans dwelling with us on this planet are utter pricks. So today I’m going to talk about three of the terrible restaurant stories I know. This is by no means a definitive list, but it’s worth opening your eyes about some of the pricky behaviour that happens so that maybe we can all band together and fling a bread roll or 12 at the next wanker who tries some of this shit.
1. The Disgusting Piggy
Now, I’m a woman and I only ever visit the women’s bathroom facilities these days, but I’m sure plenty of horrific things happen in the gents. Today though, I’m bitching at the ladies who don’t know how to dispose of their tampons. Yuh huh. If you think throwing your used, bloody tampon on the ground in front of the toilet then just leaving the scene is appropriate you should not be allowed to leave the house. You definitely shouldn’t be allowed into nice restaurants.
There’s a sanitary bin right beside you for god’s sake. If you don’t want to touch that you could at least flush it. We all know you’re not supposed to flush it, but – let’s be real – we’ve all flushed one. There’s no need to fling it around like an animal.
Maybe this repulsive creature was trying to make a statement to the staff about bad service or an undercooked sausage or something. Lack of ketchup, maybe. Well, there’s no guarantee that the poor bastard who has to clean up your mess will be the same bastard who maligned you and if no one understands the politics behind your bloody stance the tactic has failed. Use your words next time. Or stay home.
2. The Window Keeper
You got the window seat, huh? You wanna do some people watching? Well, the thing about people watching is that you get very little say in which people you get to watch. You don’t own all of the space directly in front of the window, so let’s not pretend like you do. The other day my husband was casually standing near a restaurant, waiting for someone and BANG BANG BANG. Two mad bitches in the window seat behind him started pounding on the glass like rabid chimpanzees demanding he move away so they could see the world go by again. So he moved to the other available standing spaces; doorways, delivery spaces and the road. As none of these were really appropriate he was constantly moving, but the window bitches got to maintain their view of the road sweeper and the Chinese guy who came out to smoke in his doorway.
For the record, my husband wasn’t levitating 40 floors above street level in front of Duck and Waffle. These bitches didn’t choose that restaurant for the frigging view, they were just being pricks. I get that you’re paying for a meal, ladies. You aren’t paying for everyone in the outside world to pander to your bullshit demands. I’ve a good mind to invoice those cows.
3. The Entitled Blogger
I use the term blogger relatively loosely here, it’s just as likely to be a twat with a Trip Advisor account. Writing restaurant reviews is a fine thing and you’re perfectly entitled to do so. Waltzing into a restaurant and loudly declaring that you have a Trip Advisor account so they better be nice to you is something quite different. You’ve wandered into the territory of the egotistical douche when you start pulling that shit. Even if you do it with a smile on your face and it’s just a little ‘joke’ with the waitress, we can all read the subtext: “gimme free stuff and make me feel like King of the world or I’ll write nasty things about you on the internet”. Oh, you want the £10 lunch special with a side of blackmail, huh? The number of people with the nerve to try this on is truly startling.
The other breed are the ones who don’t even set foot in the restaurant, or even intend to dine. They just tweet or email the restaurant demanding free stuff or massive discounts for the purposes of review because they’re a blogger. They’re pretty much always brand new bloggers with a domain authority of one, 10 twitter followers, and a snarky about page detailing how they’re extremely hard to please and they like to tear restaurants apart for the tiniest of perceived infractions. Oh wow, do you know how to win a marketing team over.
These pricks are giving all decent bloggers a bad name. If you’re reading this and you’re indignant that I’m getting the occasional free meal to write about on my blog and you’re thinking about climbing aboard the gravy train, know this: I didn’t ask for any of it. The PRs and the Zomatos of the world came to me.
If I were to go to a brand and ask for freebies for my blog I’d actually take the time to work out a proper pitch. With numbers, statistics and reasons why the brand would benefit from working with me. Including the fact that this blog has been going for a lot longer than a month and it actually has followers. I wouldn’t going marching in with entitled strop slopping down my chin, greedily demanding the world on a plate. You shouldn’t either.