Get rid of the tiny tables and put in some lights so I can read the menu. Please …
My dentist tells me that I grind my teeth at night. He says this is a very bad thing and needs to be remedied. Apparently the problem is tension, brought on by stress. Clearly I need less stress in my life. To make this happen I have decided to use this column to address all the things about restaurants that I truly hate; the atrocities I hope to see disappear in 2016. These things may sound minor, but together they amount to a hurricane of tooth-blunting fury. My ability to chew meat properly depends upon all of it being dealt with.
Please stop taking my order without a notebook. I don’t know you. I don’t know whether you are Francesco the Famous Memory Man, or were off your tits last night on crystal meth and can now barely recall your own name. I don’t trust you to remember what I ordered. Write it down.
Related: Why you won't catch me queuing for a burger
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