When the party's over...

GO HOME or "You don't have to go home but you can't stay here."

I’ll keep this one short and sweet (ish).

You’re allowed one. One night of falling so madly for a lover or friend that you completely lose track of all time and space and forget where you are. Final sips of wine and the last nibbles of dessert no longer matter. There are no café tables, no chairs, you’ve transcended reality and nothing else exists outside the moment you’re sharing…

Except…

A server who has swept every corner of the restaurant, including the spot directly under your feet. Cleared all your plates, made you sign the check they somehow talked you into paying and tried desperately to take that glass you absolutely refuse to drain the last sip from. They’ve sprinkled salt behind your chair in an attempt to get rid of you through magic. Changed the music to Enya or Christian rock. Began talking loudly enough for you to hear them complain.

You are the last guests in the restaurant by an hour and honestly I wouldn’t bring this up if it didn’t happen ALL THE TIME. My dears, this means many of you are abusing your one-time pass to ignore the most obvious of indications to get the hell out of the restaurant when it is closed.

LOOK AROUND. I promise you, it’s obvious when the end to the night is nigh. One or two other tables remain seated in the restaurant. Nothing else can be ordered because you finished your meal 45 minutes ago and the kitchen has closed. Your server has dropped the check.

First of all, PAY THAT. Secondly, start making your exit plan NOW. Call your Uber, figure out which bar you’re hitting next. But most importantly, get the fuck out.

It’s late. Everyone is exhausted and I don’t care how good of a time we had together, as a server, I just wanna go home.

“Oh my God, are we the last ones here?!” Truly remarkable how often guests genuinely aren’t aware that they’re holding a staff hostage. And usually, we won’t ask you to leave because it is inhospitable. But also, we can’t finish cleaning and we certainly can’t lock up and leave until you fucking go.

Trust me, I know how romantic it is to tell the story of that one embarrassing time you realized you were the last couple in the restaurant. I told you, you’re allowed one. But please, do your dignity and the well-being of your server a favor and leave when the restaurant is clearly closed. It’s better for all of us.

Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other at another bar later and you can buy me a shot for being such a great server and I’ll buy you one for being such a considerate guest.

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