The restaurant industry is a rite of passage for anyone working in media or entertainment. Before the radio gigs, before the marketing director title in New York, there were shifts — bartending, cooking, dishwashing, pot washing, waiting tables, running errands, whatever needed doing. You learn rhythm. You learn timing. You learn how to read a room full of strangers who think snapping their fingers is an acceptable form of communication.
A recent roundup from Better Report lists the nine rudest things customers do at restaurants. Snapping at servers. Arriving five minutes before close. Undertipping after decent service. Letting kids treat the dining room like a playground. The usual suspects.
But here’s the part the list doesn’t say out loud — most of this behavior isn’t accidental. It’s learned. And it’s tolerated because the industry runs on a broken social contract where politeness is optional, and tips are supposedly mandatory.
The Snap, the Clap, the Whistle
Snapping your fingers at a server is demeaning — not because it’s loud, but because it treats another human being like a dog you’re calling over. The same goes for clapping or whistling. The same goes for shaking your empty glass so the ice rattles like a maraca.
The article suggests a polite hand raise or eye contact instead.
Sure.
But the real issue isn’t how you get someone’s attention — it’s the assumption that your drink refill is more urgent than the six other tables that the server is managing. You’re not the main character. You’re at table 14.
Staying Too Long (Or Showing Up Too Late)
Camping out after you’ve paid the bill — especially when there’s a line at the door — is the restaurant equivalent of blocking the grocery aisle while you debate oat milk brands. Move along.
And arriving five minutes before close? That’s not “technically still open.” That’s making a kitchen crew stay an extra hour because you wanted mozzarella sticks at 9:56 PM.
The staff won’t say anything. They’ll smile. They’ll take your order. They’ll hate you quietly while scrubbing down the grill for the second time that night.
Working those closing shifts teaches you one thing fast — people who’ve never worked service don’t think about the labor behind the meal. They think the lights just turn off and everyone goes home. They don’t see the breakdown. The mopping. The inventory. The bus ride at midnight.
Flirting With Staff (Who Are Paid to Be Nice)
Servers and bartenders are trained to be pleasant. That’s the job. Mistaking professional friendliness for romantic interest is a tired move — and leaving your phone number on the check is worse.
The article calls it “skeevy.”
Accurate.
But it’s also exhausting. Because the person pouring your drink or bringing your appetizers can’t tell you to knock it off without risking their tip. So they laugh. They deflect. They survive the shift and talk about it later in the walk-in cooler.
Bartending teaches you to manage personalities without losing your cool. You learn when to engage, when to redirect, when to cut someone off before things get weird. It’s a skill set that transfers — to radio, to marketing, to any job where you have to deal with people who think they’re more charming than they are.
Letting Kids Run Wild
If your child is screaming, running between tables, or treating the restaurant like an indoor jungle gym — that’s on you. Other diners didn’t pay for dinner and a show featuring your unsupervised toddler.
The list suggests keeping kids seated and quiet, or waiting until they can behave in public.
Reasonable advice.
But the real problem is parents who’ve decided that “kids will be kids” is a universal excuse for chaos. It’s not. Restaurants aren’t playgrounds. They’re workplaces — for the staff trying to carry hot plates through a dining room obstacle course.
Holding a Table (While Your Friends Are “On Their Way”)
Showing up on time for a reservation but refusing to order until your five late friends arrive — that’s holding a table hostage. The restaurant can’t seat other customers. They can’t turn the table. They’re just stuck waiting on your crew to show up.
Most places will hold a reservation for 15 minutes. After that, they’re within their rights to give it away.
And they should.
Because “my friends are almost here” isn’t a business model. It’s an inconvenience with a smile.
Helping Yourself (Because the Service Is Slow)
Walking to the bar to pour your own water. Heading toward the kitchen to grab silverware. Taking matters into your own hands because the server is busy.
The article calls this rude and insulting.
Correct on both counts.
But it’s also a power move — a way of saying “I don’t trust you to do your job, so I’ll do it myself.” Which might feel justified in the moment, but it’s still a violation of the unspoken rules.
You’re a guest. Act like one.
Working in restaurants teaches you that most complaints about “slow service” are really complaints about being asked to wait. The server isn’t ignoring anyone. They’re managing a dozen tasks at once — taking orders, running food, dealing with the kitchen, handling the guy at table 9 who wants his steak “medium-rare but not too pink.”
Patience isn’t a virtue. It’s basic restaurant customer etiquette.
Ignoring the Server (While They’re Talking to You)
If someone is reading the specials to you or explaining the menu, the least anyone can do is make eye contact and listen. Scrolling through a phone or continuing a conversation while the server stands there — that’s treating another person like furniture.
The article frames this as basic manners.
It is.
But it’s also a reminder that service work is invisible to many people. They don’t see the effort. They don’t register the human being in front of them. They just want their food and their check.
Radio taught me timing — when to talk, when to listen, when to let silence do the work. Restaurants taught me the same thing, except the stakes were tips instead of ratings.
Undertipping (Because “Tipping Culture Is Broken”)
Tipping 10% for good service isn’t making a political statement. It’s just being cheap.
The article acknowledges that tipping culture in America is complicated — and it is. But servers rely on tips to make a living wage. Undertipping doesn’t fix the system. It just punishes the person who brought the food.
If the service was genuinely bad — cold food, wrong orders, outright rudeness — then fine. Tip accordingly. But if everything was fine and the bill gets a 10% tip because someone wants to “send a message” about tipping culture… that’s not activism. That’s just being a bad customer.
Working in restaurants teaches you that most people who complain about tipping still expect excellent service. They want the system to change, but they want their water refilled first.
The Bigger Picture (Which Nobody Wants to Talk About)
The real issue isn’t any single rude behavior. It’s the assumption that service workers exist to absorb whatever mood, demand, or entitlement walks through the door. Snapping. Undertipping. Ignoring. Flirting. Arriving late. Staying too long. Helping yourself. Letting kids run wild. Holding tables.
All of it comes from the same place — a belief that the person serving is somehow less than the person being served.
And that’s the part that sticks with anyone who’s worked in the industry. Not the long hours, the low pay, or the grease burns. It’s the casual disrespect. The way people treat service is like it’s invisible until something goes wrong.
Radio, marketing, and entertainment — those jobs came later. But the lessons from washing dishes and pouring drinks? Those stuck. Treat people like people. Show up on time. Don’t make someone’s job harder just because it’s convenient. No excuses, only results.
The restaurant industry doesn’t need a list of rude behaviors. It needs customers who’ve worked a single service shift in their lives.
Until then, the snapping continues…