You know what frosts my flakes?
Restaurant seating.
A friend and I went to lunch at Red Robin today. We arrived about five minutes after the doors opened.
In the entire restaurant, there was one group of four sitting in a booth.
So, with nearly 60 tables to choose from, where did they seat us?
Right next to them.
A few minutes later, another group came in. They were seated directly behind us.
Then a fourth group arrived and was seated at the table right across from us.
Apparently, the restaurant wasn’t open yet. Just our section.
There were enough empty tables to host a high school reunion, but all 10 of us were packed into one little corner and sitting so close together, we didn’t have to eavesdrop. Their conversations were included with our meal.
As you can tell, I’m not exactly a skinny guy.
But the space between the booth’s seat and the table was so tight, I needed a shoehorn and a tub of Crisco just to wedge myself into place.
And that was before I ate anything.
Once I finished lunch, I wasn’t sure whether I could get out of the booth or whether Red Robin was going to have to list me as a permanent fixture.
Look, I understand servers have assigned sections. But when the restaurant is 90% empty, maybe we can spread humanity around a little.
I’m Grandpa Grumpy, and if two people are going to pay $50 for lunch, can’t they get 50 inches of personal space without having to hear the guy at the next table chewing his fries?