Dining Psychology: Confessions of a Hoarder

What’s surprising about Bruni’s hilarious article today on the psychology of diners, What They Brought to the Table, isn’t that his guests didn’t behave as scripted in restaurants, it’s that they would ever agree to the bargain at all. You couldn’t pay most people to only eat a quarter of what’s on their plate, then pass it dutifully around the table.

And by “most people,” I mean me. Years of sharing with female friends who insisted that they weren’t that hungry, didn’t order much, then ate half of what was on my plate have definitely turned me into a hoarder. The “shared plates” trend has only exacerbated the problem. What’s the point of ordering the arancini if you only get half of one delicious fried rice ball? And no, the fact that I get some of your sauteed spinach in return isn’t much consolation.

There is nothing rational about saying, “I’m going to get the rice balls. But I am going to eat them all, so if you guys want some, maybe we should order more.” Yet I have said this to my friends. In restaurants. Aloud.

Other than hoarders vs. sharers, here are a few more categories I’ve noticed over the years: the Manglers, the Impatients, the Meg Ryans, and the Switch Orderers.

The Manglers

Some people set about immediately destroying their food as soon as it hits the table. This is particularly unfortunate if you are trying to photograph the food. What was an artfully arranged chicken dish or filet of sea bass drizzled just so with a beautiful coriander sauce can quickly become a pile of protein with all the fattening stuff scraped over to the side. The amazing thing is that it all happens in a matter of seconds, as you sit there powerless to stop the juggernaut that is the Mangler.

The Impatients

It doesn’t matter how much you prep someone in advance for the fact that there will be a wait for a table, they almost always want to go somewhere else when they arrive at the restaurant and hear from the host that there will be a wait. This trait is nearly universal. It doesn’t matter that there is a wait because the place doesn’t take reservations. It doesn’t matter that the only other place nearby is a Chucky Cheese. It doesn’t matter that the wait is only a half hour, the time it takes to consume a cocktail at the bar. It doesn’t matter that it’s a Saturday night in New York City, and the reason there’s a wait is because every other New Yorker also wants to go to that new place, and every other place in town will also have a wait, and by the time you find some other place, the waiting time at the place you actually wanted to visit will have elapsed.

The news of a wait is always met with a grimace and treated as a power struggle between diner and host, as if we’d just been denied entry to a nightclub, not a restaurant with a limited number of tables that are already full. Adding to the twisted psychology of it all, hosts know this and often exaggerate the wait time to get rid of pain-in-the-ass diners. Kudos to them–they are smarter than the Impatients.

The Meg Ryans

No matter how many movies like When Harry Met Sally and LA Story parody foibles like ordering the sauce on the side, diners still insist on customizing their meals in pointless ways. Does it really matter whether the chef leaves out that extra tablespoon of grated cheese on top of the salad or makes your fish sauce without capers? Often, when the request is denied, the Meg Ryan is insulted, as if the restaurant isn’t holding up its part of the bargain. This is usually the provenance of people who have never worked in a restaurant. Everyone who has can already hear the chef bitching when you put in the order.

The Switch Orderer

One of the most awesome things about Bruni’s power was that he could tell his guests what to order. The thrill of it all! Instead, I with no expense account try to piece together what everyone else is getting and then order something different and usually less desirable. You go around the table thinking that your friend has dibs on the burger, the famous one that everyone’s been talking about, so I’ll order the pork chop. You order the pork chop, then the waiter gets to your friend, who spontaneously orders the trout special. Before you can say anything, the waiter turns on his heel and doesn’t return until the appetizers hit.

Pork Stroganoff in a seafood restaurant? Penne puttanesca in a steak house? No one can predict the path of the Switch Orderer.