I went into a trendy, in-demand restaurant the other night with a reservation at 9 pm. I have discovered in some other, way-less-cool cities, this is when restaurants do crazy things like close and let their staff see their families. In Miami, 9 pm is basically considered an Early Bird.
I was greeted by a hostess who informed me in a thick Eastern European accent that “your table is just finishing up.” This may have been code for, “Help! I’m being trafficked in a ruthless restaurant hostessing ring!” because she didn’t blink once and her face barely moved. Though she may have also been generated by AI.
Either way, I believed her, and looked over to “my” table on the other side of the restaurant. The people there didn’t look like they were anywhere in the vicinity of “finishing up.” They looked like they were “finishing up” in the same way that I-95 has been “finishing up” since 1965.
From what I could tell, the group at the table was either working on a sequel script to “The Odyssey,” or planning to overthrow the government of Ecuador. Both noble pursuits, sure. Just maybe not pursuits that needed to be pursued at a restaurant with two-month waits for reservations. Plan your revolution where they’re supposed to be planned – namely underground poetry clubs and brothels.
And it was in this moment I realized: Restaurants need to limit how long you can spend at your table.
“But this is America!” I hear you cry. “I paid for my dinner! I can stay here as long as I want.”
Really? When I was in school, I learned America was founded on eating as fast as humanly possible and getting back to work. Imagine if George Washington had sat around sipping espressos after dinner instead of crossing the Delaware. He’d have probably frozen to death, and we’d all be spelling “neighborhood” with a “u.” The horror.
Leisurely dinners are actually the opposite American. Just ask anyone who spent a semester studying in Spain and came back with a lisp. Conversations with them usually go something like this:
Me: How was Spain?
Them: Bar-THE-lona was amazing! Everyone really takes their time and enjoys life! You eat tiny plates of ham for dinner and it takes 16 hours!
Me: Do they ever work?
Them: No! They go straight from dinner to “siesta,” a government-mandated mid-day break that lasts from the time you wake up until dinner starts again. Or a soccer game breaks out.
You’ll have similar conversations with anyone who spent more than 24 hours in Argentina, except instead of tiny plates of ham, dinner is a six-course steak dinner that costs, with the current exchange rate, about 47 cents.
My point is that while spending your entire life eating dinner might be fine in countries where the soccer team is more stable than the currency, in America it doesn’t quite fly.
In America, we have servers who work 12-hour shifts, most of whom get paid in CVS coupons. At the end of those shifts, the only thing standing between them and an after-work edible is a table of people lingering over an affogato like they’re in a sidewalk café in Milan. Except, they’re not at a sidewalk café in Milan. They’re at the Cheesecake Factory in Boca Town Center.
If you’ve ever been this server, you know why table time limits are essential.
So, yes, while it might be annoying to feel rushed out of a dinner you probably overpaid for, dining out isn’t always about you. Sometimes it’s about the people behind you who are also waiting to overpay, or the server who just wants to go home. That’s why table time limits are good for everyone, especially the president of Ecuador.