Before anyone feeds me...

What I want before I even look at my chopped salad, grilled calamari or pad Thai:

Somebody on hand when I walk into the restaurant. How many times have you been left waiting at the entryway with no one in sight? It might be minutes, but it sure can feel like hours. I remember standing around at a Thai restaurant in Hicksville while the hostess did some paperwork at the bar, her back toward the door. Hello, anybody home?

 A smile. A friendly greeting. And if there’s no table available, an idea of how long the wait will be. Not long ago, at a Fort Salonga Italian spot, a waitress waved our party off, telling us to stand by an open door while she checked to see when a table would be vacated. We stood there five chilly minutes, finally deciding to give up. We were on our way out when an older woman — quite possibly the owner — walked in, sized up the situation and, noting that a table was about to become available, urged us to stay. We did — simply because she cared.

Tell me what I need to know. Is it just me, or does it drive you crazy, too, when you hear your waiter or waitress reciting a list of specials you’ve never been told about to another table.  “What am I chopped liver?” I wanted to ask the waiter at Kings Park Italian spot who brusquely took our order without ever telling us what we could have had.

Eating out isn’t just about eating. And the hospitality industry has that name for a reason.