When she asked the server whether or not the fish was farmed or wild, I saw the first red flag. When she inquired as to whether the meat came from grass-fed cows, I saw another. When she sent back the steak because it was “closer to red than pink,” I knew for sure: I was on a date with an overly fussy orderer.
Hands down, this is the least fun orderer to dine with. I'll try to telepathically transmit my apologies to the server while she nit-picks about the fricassee and makes several honey mustard-related inquiries. For a moment, both the server and I struggle to contain our irritation and wait for the ingredient inquisition to end. The tight smiles plastered on our faces started to fade around her fifth consecutive question.
|Holy hell, how many questions can one person ask about nachos???|
The most common argument I hear when confronting a picky orderer goes along the lines of, “I’m paying for someone to prepare my food, I should get it how I want!” That logic flies, but at a certain point, you just have to throw caution to the wind and leave the olives in the puttanesca, so to speak. Or just order a garden salad and pick the cucumbers out your damn self.