Table manners

Let’s talk about manners. Not the napkin-on-the-lap variety or which fork to use. But diners’ pet peeves at restaurants, which often hinge on who gets the good seating, the difficulty of getting a table on a busy Saturday (with a no-reservations policy in place), and establishments’ favoring of celebs and friends.

It doesn’t stop there, of course. Once you get the table you’ve coveted and you’re leisurely enjoying your dinner, can the management ask you to leave for waiting patrons? Even the bar, everyone’s fallback when there are no tables available, can be tricky since some seem to operate on a swoop-in-and-grab system.

These matters vex diners and managers alike. Restaurant personnel are trying to keep customers happy while parceling out a finite number of seats, and diners can be frustrated about the rules or the lack of them. Diner Hilary Heindl of Salem e-mails this observation: “Honestly, I have witnessed people pushing their way into a place like they were giving out keys to the gates of heaven. We can only maintain some semblance of civilization if we step back to realize that it is just a meal and only a restaurant.“

Diners often feel they have reason to be upset when people who come into a restaurant after them are seated before them.

Keeping an eye on this is critical, say restaurant managers. On a recent Friday night at the Butcher Shop in the South End, the place is hopping. The bar is lined with diners, and the high tables along the windows are filled, too. There are even couples standing and eating picnic-style at the low-slung butcher’s block in the back of the room (by day, the table is part of a real butcher shop). Anyone trying to muscle into one of the seats soon finds that there are rules and the hostess holds the reins.

As she takes names, she gives each group of diners a waiting time and offers a drink. When someone leaves the bar, she tells the waiting guests when they can expect a seat. And when spots are ready sooner, she’s right there offering to carry drinks.

Justin Morel, general manager of both the Butcher Shop and B&G Oysters across the street, says that without reservations, the wait list is crucial. “Generally we can gauge the pace [of those dining along the bar] as they eat,“ he says. Managers try to overstate the wait so that those in line feel like they’ve gotten a little break.

Morel also says that diners can’t call ahead, but during a phone interview, there’s a slight hesitation in his voice. When pressed, he admits that sometimes regulars do call ahead, then adds, “We’ll never save a space for them,“ but he will “allow them to be seated quickly.“

Both the Butcher Shop and B&G are owned by No. 9 Park restaurateur Barbara Lynch. At B&G, the story is a little different. Also very small — this establishment seats 37 — it takes reservations for parties of four or more, but only on that day. There’s a little give in this, too, Morel reveals, with the “occasional exception of friends of chef Lynch.“

A lingering wait bothers Thomas Berkowitz of Littleton, who writes, “I usually try to use call-ahead seating. But what seems to be happening now is that if you call ahead and are told 30 minutes, when you get there you have to wait another 30 or even 40 minutes. What’s the point?“

On a Boston.com message board, this kind of waiting is on everyone’s mind. Several respondents were sure tables were saved for special guests even with a no-reservations policy. What upset others was the long delay Berkowitz is talking about. Yet some diners wrote that regulars should be seated ahead of the crowd and that seats at the bar should be up for grabs, too. During an often heated back and forth, with some rather impolite repartee, other readers called for civility.

Even though the no-reservations policy elicits anger from diners, some establishments are willing to take the chance. Ashmont Grill in Dorchester, which opened last summer to an enthusiastic neighborhood crowd, “tried to take them at the beginning,“ says general manager Francie Doyle, “and it didn’t work for the kind of place we are.“ Usually, the waits aren’t longer than she expects, she says, up to an hour on Friday nights. If parties are big, say six or more, it’s a good idea to call ahead, Doyle says, but generally, if someone is annoyed, it’s mostly just because there’s a wait.

Some of those who posted messages on Boston.com were especially upset about very popular restaurants that don’t take reservations. They’re “pandering to the hype-hungry ego of the owner or, more usually, the ‘celebrity’ head chef,“ e-mails Martin Gregory of Dedham. He’s never heard a good explanation for not taking reservations, he says, and thinks it might be an American phenomenon. “I have never encountered a top establishment in London, for example, that refuses a reservation.“

But sometimes even a reservation isn’t enough to prevent a wait. Krista Kranyak, owner of Ten Tables — which is as tiny as its name suggests — takes reservations. Kranyak had been the hostess at Perdix, previously in the same space. At that establishment, no seats were reserved on Fridays and Saturdays, she says, and patrons would be furious. Under the new management, she resolved to take them. “It’s always a struggle,“ she says. Now that Amanda Lydon, formerly the chef at UpStairs on the Square, is cooking at Ten Tables until she moves to Nantucket when the weather warms up, the place is “ridiculously“ busy.

“Because I’m so small, people usually get it,“ Kranyak says. Weekends can be tricky. She placates those customers waiting for 15 or 20 minutes past their reservation time by offering a glass of Champagne or some house-made charcuterie. In cold weather, she gives them a seat in the tiny basement or her office. Kranyak estimates a table of two will occupy it for an hour and a half; four people will dine for two hours. When she’s miscalculated, sometimes customers waiting outside the restaurant start staring into the windows, trying to embarrass those inside to hurry up. Only once in the 3 1/2 years she’s owned the place did a party get angry enough to leave. Kranyak, also upset, ran down the street after them and offered them $50 gift certificates.

What will send some customers running is a guest at another table on a cellphone. But cellphones have made managers’ jobs a little easier, says Damien Palladino of Stella, the wildly popular South End cafe. “We hold reservations for 20 minutes,“ Palladino says. If someone calls to say he’s running late, the manager might hold the table a little longer. Then it goes to the first party on the waiting list. Sometimes the late customers arrive and are upset the table wasn’t held, Palladino says, which is “disturbing,“ but “with cellphones, they don’t have an excuse.“ That leaves the now coveted seats at the bar, which are never reserved, he adds. The bartenders are in charge of who’s in line. It’s not a big bar, so the bartenders can easily keep track, he says, though some customers try to jump the line.

At the four-month-old Rendezvous in Central Square, owned by Steve Johnson, some customers try to grab chairs at a low, counter-style bar, but “we try to ask people to wait for the next available seats,“ says hostess Anaar Desai. “People feel like they’ve been jilted“ when they can’t get seats there right away, she says. “We’re trying to let the bar be the overflow spot.“ Alas, sometimes on crowded nights, “the hostess has to step forward and direct traffic a bit,“ says Desai. That includes adding a few chairs to the bar or suggesting that people sit on benches and eat “picnic style“ on their laps.

In the helter-skelter of busy weekends, both managers and diners are just trying to keep their cool. As Heindl of Salem writes: “I refuse to live my life in ‘Survivor’ mode, where everything is a constant struggle to stay on top, at the expense of everyone else.“

Manager Palladino of Stella explains it this way: “I always tell people the restaurant business is not an exact science.“