A recent feature story about Georgia's most romantic restaurant, Viande Rouge steakhouse, having a no-kids policy got me thinking of an odd encounter a few years ago. We were traveling in Nova Scotia and came across a farmhouse touted as a fancy restaurant. When we--my wife and four children aged 4 to 12--walked into the cramped dining room, we were met with 40 sets of eyes evoking a collective "Oh, damn!" look.
A while later, a stern-looking older woman who had been staring at us got up to leave. She stopped by my wife, growled something into her ear and then marched out.
"What was that all about?" I asked, assuming the worst.
It turns out she said, "Your children have acted admirably. That's a compliment to them and a credit to you."
Wow, we were complimented because our kids didn't act like they were feral. They sat up straight, used their forks and didn't dart around like it was recess. It demonstrates society's low expectations of children--or, more correctly, their parents.
It's a pet peeve shared by many: Sitting near "spirited" children in a restaurant who are (pick one) running/jumping/shouting/crying/throwing food or banging toys while their (pick one) self-absorbed/clueless/adoring parents (pick one) ignore them/keep conversing/continue drinking/fail to remove them or futilely bargain with them. "C'mon, buddy, please be good."
Even hinting to some parents that their darlings aren't the center of the universe is playing with dynamite.
A few years back, Donnie Parmer, co-owner of Grant Central Pizza near Atlanta's Grant Park, opened a tsunami of, um, discussion after adding a note to parents to the menu. (This was after the restaurant got some bad online reviews and a customer was hit in the head with a toy.)
"Dear all present and future patrons," the menu insert read, "Unfortunately a number of our diners have posted unpleasant experiences because of crying and unsupervised children. To ensure that all diners have an enjoyable lunch or dinner with us, we respectfully ask that parents tend to their crying tots outside."
First, I must note, if a restaurant must explain this, then you are certifiably a numbskull. Granted, they could have also written pleas for customers not to be boisterous drunks or loud cellphone conversants. But those are subjects for another day.
The pizzeria's request went global.
Margaret Kaiser, a Georgia state rep whose husband is the pizzeria's co-owner, tried to be diplomatic while explaining the ruckus to me. Kaiser is going to run for mayor of Atlanta but I figure she would be swept into office if she promised to make that menu addendum into law.
"You struggle when you're a small restaurant trying to make it and you have disruptive kids and patrons who don't like it," she said.
I asked why the menu addition went global. "Because [Parmer] was brutally honest," she said. "And we don't have enough of that in today's world."
Editorial on 02/10/2016