So last night. I'm in the mission and finish a meeting early. It's 5:30. I see a neighbourhood place across the street and call my wife. She says she'll be right over. I cross the street and enter the empty restaurant. They open at 5:30. It's now 5:34. I ask for a table for two and the waiter asks if I have a reservation. I look around the empty place and say no.
Now, I think to myself, okay maybe he wants to check me in if I did made a reservation, so I ask if they take reservations. He says no. I'm now immune to SF restaurant stupidity (or I'm hooked on the abuse), so I soldier on. I point to a table and say, I'll take than one. He raises his eyebrows and says, let me check if it's available. He then retreats behind the bar where he conferes with his other waiters. They eye me up and down and whisper. Finally, he comes back to say, yes, you may sit there.
I sit. And as I do so I realise that the concrete floor is so pitched (former warehouse) that the table and chairs are on a severe angle. I pull out my road grade pencil and sure enough it rolls right off. I feel like I'm eating on the Titanic. I stand up and notice my wife pulling up outside. He rushes over. It is 5:45 and the restaurant is still empty. I say, Im going to sit at that table, pointing to a 4 top outside. He says, that for four people. I say, I'm a big eater.
I've never been to a place where they make you feel as if they're doing you a favour by letting you eat in their restaurants.
Edited by lefty - 6/27/12 at 4:37pm