See, when a restaurant starts losing money to infelicitous no-shows, its manager -- if he/she is any good -- is going to make some changes. Those changes screw me over. They include, but are not limited to:
- Requiring a credit card on which to assess no-show fees to human trashcans
- Double-booking their tables like they’re seats on a goddamned airplane to hedge against your tiresome bullshit
- Issuing prix fixe tickets that are expensive enough to offset the lost opportunity of wine & beverage if your merry band of suck never materializes
- Offering fewer reservations to limit their exposure to ass-hats like you
- Abandoning the reservation system entirely
Any of these remedies, logical though they are from a business standpoint, are an inconvenience for the dining public (and for me, personally). Those more severe adjustments are a blockade between us -- the adults who honor their commitments -- and a damn dinner.
Look, I’m all for spontaneity. If you want to Zooey Deschanel your way through life, jumping in puddles and taking tandem bicycle rides with handsome strangers out of pure whimsy, go right ahead. No strings attached! Live your best life, or whatever! But when it comes to restaurant reservations, you need to chill with all that carefree pretense.
The no-show. The last-minute canceller. The double-booker.
It’s not cute to go rogue on the promises you make to restaurants. No one thinks you’re savvy for finagling the best table possible at the expense of the restaurant community at large. You’re a bottom-feeding, carpet-bagging parasite thriving on the service industry’s good faith. Everyone hates you, from the back of the house to the front, from casual diner to diehard.