Ten rudest things customers do to make servers wish you'd never come to their restaurants
10. When a server comes to greet your table, don't -- I repeat, don't -- interrupt her midway through her preamble to demand a diet Coke or vodka on the rocks. Worse, if she asks what kind of day you're having -- as in "How are you?"-- and you respond by demanding a menu, free bread or water, no ice, then I hope she gets your name and number and prank-calls you at 2 a.m. I've seen guests behave in this fashion a dozen times over the course of the last month, and it's beyond rude.
9. If your table orders drinks, and they're delivered on a tray, don't use your grubby little hands to remove them. There's such a thing called balance, and if you take it upon yourself to snatch a glass off the tray, then 99.9 percent of the time, it's your own damn fault if it spills all over your pressed pinstriped suit. This is how major accidents occur and dry-cleaning businesses get rich.
8. If you have small children, or you're an adult in a child's body, and you have an obsession with sugar, for the love of God, don't put the half-empty packets back into the sugar caddy. That's just gross, plain and simple, and sugar packets aren't meant to be reused by the unsuspecting four top that gets your table once you've left.
7. There's no university degree program for mind readers, and servers -- at least the ones that I know -- aren't trained in predicting what you might want next, so if a server comes to your table to check to see what you might need, and you promptly wave her away only to wag your finger in her direction five seconds later to interrogate her about the whereabouts of your extra side of pesto dressing that you -- oops -- forgot to mention the first time, then you have the common courtesy skills of a repo man, which is to say none.
6. When you've closed your menu, or put it off the side, it's a sign that you're ready to place your order. With that simple fact in your brain, a server shouldn't have to stand there -- tick-tock --because you decide that now is the perfect time to peruse it for another five minutes. If you have questions about particular dishes, that's one thing -- and you're more than entitled to ask -- but if you've made up your mind, then there's no reason to continue reading the menu like a bedtime novel. Their time is just as important as yours. Why is this concept so difficult for diners to grasp?