Who gave him permission to 'order for the table'?
Empty tables in a restaurant Credit: iStock
There we were in one of our favorite Roslyn restaurants, having dinner with friends. It was a party of eight.
Soft lights glimmered and quiet conversation hummed in the background. Our waiter had described the specials and now stood to one side with pen in hand as we scanned the menus.
"I'm thinking about the scampi," said my friend Alice. "I've had it before and it's absolutely delicious."
"It's good, but a bit too garlicky for my taste," said Judy. "I may order the pappardelle with porcini mushrooms and maybe the beet and arugula salad. It sounds delicious."
"Are we having appetizers?" I inquired.
"I'll pass, but if you want them," Kathy said. And so it went. The restaurant was quickly filling up. The waiter moved in closer to ask whether we were ready.
"Let's order something for the table," boomed the authoritative voice from another member of our party.
We all snapped to attention.
"The fried zucchini chips are out of this world, so we could start with an order of them," our spokesman said. "Then maybe the roasted peppers with capers and olives. Theirs are among the best I've ever had, and their chopped salad is really superb, too, a bit different from the usual."
He snapped the menu closed.
"What do you think?"
There were nods and murmurs of agreement and this man gave a satisfied smile before requesting the wine list.
The evening progressed quickly and before we knew it we were sipping our coffee and the check had been presented. The men huddled, checking it for accuracy before tossing their credit cards to the center of the table to ensure an even split.
After dinner, this man's behavior was the first thing I mentioned to my husband when we got in the car.
"Who gave him the authority to order for the table?" I said.
"Well, if you had a problem, you should have said something," he said.
"Well, I didn't want to sound like a spoiled child but . . ."
My husband heaved an exasperated sigh and pushed hard on the gas pedal.
Still irate, I continued, "I mean, he just took over. Those specials are among the most expensive items on the menu, not to mention, so was the wine that he picked. And we all share the bill."
"Since when were you so concerned about the bill?" my husband asked.
There was an edge to his voice.
"Did you have a good time?" he said.
"Well, yes," I said. "It was great to see everyone and the food was good."
"Well, that's it."
And for him, it was.
I, on the other hand, tend to dwell on things.
During the rest of the ride, I pondered the custom of ordering for the table. I had encountered it on occasion before but lately it seems to have become much more commonplace. I could come up with nothing more than the notion that only can a person with confidence tinged with more than a bit of arrogance take charge in that manner.
Once at home, I visited my pal Google. I put in "ordered for the table."
There was a detailed explanation of how to order from a menu. It was written for newcomers to our country. Next I was directed to Robert's Rules of Order, with explicit directions on how to table an issue. Another search offered directions on how to set, buy or sell a table.
At that point, I had trouble keeping my eyes open -- although it could have been the wine, which I had to admit was very good. I made one last try before calling it a night.
I don't remember what keywords I entered into the computer, but there it was, a new result, a quote from Tony Soprano of the old TV series: "I ordered something for the table."
Was he the originator? Who knows, but he certainly met my criteria.
Reader Barbara Gerbasi lives in Manhasset.
