Well, That Sucked: Dating An Overly Fussy Orderer

Witnessing someone order food can be an enlightening experience. I have encountered many types of orderers while on a date. There's the nervous orderer, who points to what she wants on the menu, terrified of mispronouncing “prosciutto”. There's the confident orderer, who's done it a million times and knows all the answers before the server can ask any questions. There's even the up-for-anything orderer who asks no questions and is happy to give any old item a whirl. I can respect all of these ordering styles. All except for one.

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???

I get that she hates mayo so asking a burger joint to hold a condiment is no big deal. But when she asks the proprietor of the local cheap chinese joint if she can get her $5 General Tso’s Chicken “grilled instead of fried, because it's healthier,” I feel like throwing my spring rolls in the air out of frustration. 

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.