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GQ talks #MeToo

The GQ guide to treating your waitress like a human

This week GQ Contributing Editor Lou Stoppard proves, once and for all, that clicking at your server is never ok

It's been nearly a month since the infamous men-only fundraising dinner in London for the Presidents Club charity where waitresses and hostesses were harassed and groped. There was, understandably, a glut of think pieces at the time. But there was little to offer in terms of response other than disgust. Really, there is no advice I can offer someone who is a criminal sex pest - there's little hope for you. From the bottom of my heart, adieu. I am thrilled that 2018 has not been kind to you. But another age-old problem was neatly summarised by the Presidents Club - most men have no idea how to treat waitresses. I'm not just talking about the creepy, ruddy-faced men called Toby or Mungo - nickname, Flops, Stiffy or Bunter- who attended said dinner, but all men. Men like you. Consider this a lesson in post #MeToo dining etiquette.

I worked as a waitress for about 5 years, from the age of about 14 to midway through university. I loved it. I'm a slightly perverse character, so revelled in the power it gave me over whether someone enjoyed their evening. > You could be the biggest wig in the world when you walked into that restaurant, but I, your waitress, still got to decide where you sat. I say restaurant, my first job was actually in a slightly depressing pub. I got fired - probably as I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I'm strangely proud of losing my first job. It makes me feel like J.K Rowling or Steve Jobs. Luckily, I quickly found employment at a slightly more fancy gastro-pub where I learnt the tricks of the trade from the glamorous Brazilian women who already worked there. Here, I thrived.

I learnt to laugh at everything customers say. Even though no waitress, ever, finds your joke about 'hating' you dish, as you point animatedly at your licked-clean plate, funny. About three men a day would make this joke, and I'd wearily smile, conscious that I wanted a good share of tips. Make gags to your companion, not your server. We don't care how stuffed you are. We certainly don't care for any jokes about food with suggestive names - tart, buns, pork. We don't find it charming when you want two spoons so your date can 'steal some'. Though I learnt that there is an unwritten rule between diner and server that said 'two spoons' joke must always be made as the desert menus are collected - both parties must laugh, both parties must smile. It is as integral to being British as queuing or hating eye contact with strangers.

Still, it's better to be joked at than ignored. Men, you're buying a meal, not buying status. > Do not refuse to pass your plate if your waiter or waitress is extended so far over your table that they're balanced on one leg. You are not the mother in Titanic. We are not an enemy not to be fraternised with. Also, don't presume that your waitress is a moron. Don't bark orders at her, or presume she knows nothing about the wine list. I was once clicked at by a man in an ill-fitting suit and a shiny tie, who, when I informed him that was unacceptable, called me 'just a waitress'. I was mid-way through an Oxford degree, but even if I wasn't, the action was unacceptable. Waitresses do far more than just carry things. You realise this whenever you go to a restaurant with bad service - the whole operation falls apart with one weak member of the front of house team. Waitresses are diplomats, managers, conductors, entertainers and food experts all in one. And fierce at maths, from working out bill splits. We hate that as well. iPhones have calculators - use them.

Never, never ever flirt with your waitress. She hates it. She is being nice to you because she is paid to do so. Not because she finds you attractive. You are a table number and a list of dishes to her, nothing more. She does not want you to buy her a drink. She does not want you to comment on her looks or her 'fetching apron' - to quote some rotund pervert I was faced with aged 16. She is stuck with you for three courses - don't make her feel trapped and objectified before the bread has even arrived. If your table is all male, certainly don't treat her like some show pony there to be complimented and lightly teased. As you congratulate yourself on your witty, witty banter, she will simply return to the kitchen to sigh about the wankers on table number 7. See the exchange of plates and a business transaction. Supply and demand.

Oh, and always tip.

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