Restaurant Diners

During my black days as a Restaurant Owner, I quickly learned to categorise diners into one of five groups, perhaps you can spot which one you fall into:

Bernies
The biggest group of all, christened after the infamous eighties steak restaurant chain. Normally the parents of a thirty-something; everyone knows a Bernie. Their brief is big portions, cheap price and to hell with quality. They have a huge problem with change or experimentation and will turn their noses up at anything that does not come with chips. Nothing will see a Bernie exit a restaurant quicker than a menu which consists of anything remotely described as Thai Style.

They will seldom ever complain to the servers face; they are the a-typical English customer that will whine continuously to their fellow diners about everything from the firmness of the carrots to the thickness of the gravy, until their waiter inquires if their meal is okay, at which point they declare “ooh yes, absolutely wonderful, thank you”.

Clickers
A particularly sad bunch of diners, who, although they believe in their own self-importance, cause embarrassment for anyone at the same table as them. So called because of their annoying habit of clicking their fingers every time they want attention. What they fail to understand is that within the restaurant business, clicking of fingers is the universally acknowledged declaration of “hey everyone, look at me, I am an prick!”. Remember that next time you or someone nearby clicks their fingers at the waiter.

The most nauseating cross-section of diners of them all, generally they will spend the least amount of money but will brag incessantly about the expensive restaurants they have supposedly ate in before. Will complain just to try and look intelligent in front of their fellow diners.

Freeloaders
Will complain to either a) receive a discount, b) to get a free drink or meal, or most commonly, c) a combination of both. Their most common complaint is their meal was a little bland. Not cold or undercooked. Not burnt, raw, frozen, off, scorched. Not tasting awful. But bland. That word that doesn’t really mean much except that maybe they would have preferred a dozen birds-eye chillies thrown in with their green salad. Usually the complaint will come at the end of the meal when there is no longer any proof of the offending dish. Some Freeloaders have become some adept at all of this that they will actually tell the waiting staff what they expect in way of compensation.

Critics
Fairly harmless, these are the ones that have watched far too much Master Chef.
They will make stupid, meaningless comments, either positively or otherwise on each and every mouthful, such as “I’m getting a lovely aftertaste of chilli and lime coming through”. They will ask dumb questions of the waiting staff, such as the origin of the food on their plate, which is fine if they know what they are talking about, but they seldom do, and pass on pointless suggestions on how to improve the restaurant, the food or the service with no actual point of reference.

Advocates
The Restaurant Owner’s favourite group! Advocates seldom complain without just or reason, and when they do, it’s always in a polite, constructive manner, and they never make the waiting staff feel uncomfortable, the exact opposite in fact. They enjoy experimenting and are always keen to try the chefs’ specials. They appreciate the whole restaurant experience; the ambiance, the service and the food. Most people like to think they fall into this category; if only! It is in fact a very small, elite group consisting mainly of ex-restaurant owners.

The thing about these Customer Categories, not totally dissimilar to traditional star signs, is that you can be on the cusp of two. For example a Freeloader may show certain traits of a Critic. The most common is the cusp of Bernies and Clickers, and this is most evident when Bernies travel abroad. Suddenly this normally fairly reticent faction become temporary two week Clickers to anyone whose first language is not English and begin to talk down to them. I witnessed a fantastic example of this recently during a trip to Italy. The Bernie-Clicker at the table next to me was ordering coffee:

“I’ll have a cap-a-chee-no please, understand?”
“Si, a Cappuccino”
“Cof-feeee?”
“Si”
“you understand? Yes? cap-a-chee-no?”

This episode of embarrassing ignorance went on for a painfully long time. Bizarrely the Bernie-Clicker did in fact have an English-Italian phrase book with her. It was a shame really she didn’t use it then she would have discovered that the translation for Cappuccino is in fact Cappuccino, what with it being an Italian word and all.