.jpeg)
In honor of the fourth of July, I’ve chosen to exercise my freedom of speech with some pet peeves about restaurants and bars in Los Angeles. Take heed, restaurateurs!
1. Bathroom attendants. Unless you’re actually holding my hair back if I throw up, I don’t think I should have to tip you for sitting next to the sink.
2. Valet drivers who move the car seat. Is the distance from where you park my car to where I’m waiting really so far that you need to make yourself comfy? It’s one thing if you’re seven feet tall, quite another if you just want to stretch your legs and make yourself at home.
3. Weird tapanades brought with bread in lieu of any form of butter. I’m sure the cornucopia of pesto, olives, and mango salsa is delightful, but I don’t need fancy, just a stick of butter and a knife, thanks.
4. Reservation confirmation voicemails in which you tell me I have to call you back in order to hold the reservation. I made the reservation, didn’t I? Just leave me a message reminding me of it, and if there’s a problem, I’ll let you know with plenty of advance notice, I promise.
5. Waiters who don’t write down longer orders. I’m sure you have an incredible memory and are mensa-smart, but will you please at least pretend to write down that I have a near-fatal allergy to artichokes?