Out Of Order

Some people honestly seem to believe that as they get older certain things will eventually stop bothering them. And, as a lot of people do, they believe that since something applies to them, it must also apply to everyone else. When these people see a kid flip out because their toy has broken, they assume that kid will eventually outgrow that behavior once they reach adulthood. Personally, I couldn't disagree with them more. Sure, as adults they may no longer flip out specifically because their Power Wheel has broken, but think about how exasperated computer issues make some of us act compared to others. It's just the toys that change, not the reactions. That is why I think the things which bother us as kids will always bother us, it is just that later in life they will show themselves in different ways. An example of one of those thing is getting cut in line. I'm never surprised to see stories on the news about people rioting while waiting in line to buy some hot new gadget because there is always one jerk in the crowd who will try to cut the line and people, no matter what their age, have a visceral reaction to someone not waiting their turn and attempting to jump over the people patiently waiting in front of them. I was reminded of this feeling as I felt it happening to me this weekend.

I was out to dinner on Saturday night and, as you would expect in Brookline on a beautiful spring night two days before the Boston Marathon and a couple hours after a Red Sox day game, every bar in the area was packed. Armed with knowledge and experience, we fully expected to have to wait a while for our table and at first we were more than willing to do so. I could see the TV with the Celtics game on, so I had no problems standing around. [Sidebar: I would still rather restaurants over-estimate how long the wait is going to be versus telling me it will be 30 minutes knowing it will be closer to an hour, but that is another post for another time.] But, as the waiting game stretched on I found my patience wearing thin and began to go through the game of matching tables with groups while mentally keep my own list of which one might eventually be our table - all the while simultaneously (but quietly) condemning the people who were taking too long to finish their desserts or ordering another round of drinks after the check arrived. If that had been the only issue I could have lived with slow eaters - the real problem arose when I began to feel like the wait staff wasn't keeping close tabs on who was next on the waiting list, at least not as close of tabs as I was keeping.

On more than one occasion my internal clock told me people that had come in after us were seated before us. The staff had a list of names and they seemed to be trying to adhere to it, but if someone was aggressive enough in grabbing a table the waitresses simply didn't have the energy to fight them on it. The worse was one group which appeared to walk in and immediately seat themselves at the first open table they saw. I'm sure they simply thought it was their lucky night, but the rest of us didn't find it as fortunate. Still, they were hardly the only group whose wait appeared to be a lot shorter than ours. At one point we were told that there were only three groups ahead of us, however by my count more tables than that had opened up and been filled with patrons before we ever got seated. At this point in the evening my head was on a swivel, trying to determine who was next. Much like when you are a little kid in reading class and you stop listening to who is speaking to instead count the number of people ahead of you and check the paragraphs to see which one is yours, now I was trying to figure out how many people were in each group and how many of them planned to get food. Fortunately these things come in waves and enough groups left during the next one that several groups got seated at once, including mine, otherwise we might still be standing there.

I think the reason being cut in line has always and will always bother me is that when you cut someone in line you have implied that you are somehow better than they are. It is as though you honestly believe that you should be seated first because you are more important and as such you deserve to get to the rest of your evening first. But it takes two to tango and it is as much the fault of the people who are in charge and allow it to happen as it is the people who do the actual circumventing. I don't want it to seem like I'm picking on the waitresses because they were clearly a little overwhelmed and understaffed (which is the only reason I'm not naming the bar). Still, that hardly seems like it is my fault - it falls on the bar manager. After all, it is not like the Marathon or the Sox games and their subsequent crowds could be considered shocking - they've been on the schedule for months. This is exactly why smart restaurants will have a hostess whose only job is to keep track of who is next to be seated. Otherwise you may as well let everyone fight for tables and seat themselves, because some people out there are going to do it anyway.