Valentine’s Day Dining = Wouch

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Valentine’s Day is one of the scariest dining days of the year. Restaurants are aware they will be slammed with a slew of amateur eaters. Most restaurants decide to make things easier by only offering some kind of set menu, which is also known as a let down. Is it the restaurant’s fault they have to have a set menu on Valentine’s Day? No. It’s the rookie eaters blasting through restaurants all across America acting like they know the dining deal. Look, if you only go to dinner on Valentine’s Day and your birthday, then you really need to calm down. Servers do not have time for your nonsense. Be thankful you have someone willing to wait on you and zip it.

Almost every customer I ever waited on each Valentine’s Day was a special-occasion-only diner. These people make the hair on my head stand up like the cheese on the shrimp po-boy at Ozona Grill. These people should be banned from all service industry establishments, only to live a lifetime of eating cold food in a dark closet. These people ruin holiday dinners for normal dining people everywhere. People that never go out annoy the servers, act holier than thou, complain about dumb stuff, leave bad tips, and never leave. I know this because I witnessed this behavior for more than seven years. I’m like a service industry expert.

Look normal people, if you must go out to dinner on this scary night in February, then at least go into it with a plan. Sitting at the bar is the best route to take because the bartender will be less in the weeds than the servers on the floor. Since another person will be working the service bar area, this bartender will only have to worry about the people sitting in front of his or her face. There’s no way management will not have another two or three people in charge of the scary special-occasion-only diners sitting at the bar tables. This plan will work. It’s your only hope.

One Valentine’s Day in college, this guy I was dating had my gifts sitting on the table during dinner. While Valentine’s Day dining was already sucking, he handed me my presents. One was in a tiny box shaped just like the place a pretty ring or necklace would fit. I opened this tiny box to find none other than a magnetic key lock. You know, the little black key holder a person uses to place a spare key beneath their car. This is horrific. The next gift was even worse than the first. After investigating this gift, I found out he had given me a denim tape case. Denim. That’s right. This wasn’t really denim. It was actually thin material that looked like real jeans. Holy freaking wow. Who has tapes? I don’t have tapes. This is like a twilight zone gift. A third gift sitting on the table turned out to be a pair of panty hose. I can barely talk about this. As if a panty hose gift wasn’t bad enough, they were tan panty hose. It gets worse. The magnetic key lock, denim tape case, and tan panty hose presents were all wrapped in newspaper. Who does this? What is wrong with this guy? It wasn’t even the comic section of the newspaper. Each present had actual news on it. This is so gross. I had no choice but to break up with him and move away.

The last Valentine’s Day before meeting my husband was with cheater #2. This guy was a real deal cheater. You know, the slime ball I caught having dinner near Galveston with a terry cloth dress wearing Hooters girl. Before I caught him being a dirty cheater, he took me to dinner at Chez Roux for Valentine’s Day. We sat alone at the chef’s table in the kitchen. It would have been romantic, but his phone kept receiving texts from all kinds of hoochies that were wondering where he was. What happened after dinner hurt even worse. I caught a glimpse of the tip as we were leaving. He left less than ten percent. This is like a case of criminal activity. Go ahead and cat around town if you must, but do not be a less than ten percenter after being served dinner by a Michelin star chef. Who does this on Valentine’s Day at Chez Roux? Cheap loser cheaters, that’s who.

If you must venture out into the line of dining fire, do yourself a favor and sit at the bar.

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