The menu card is handed to the man, with a pad or slip of paper and pencil. Upon this, after discussion with the woman, he writes his order. As a rule he orders the entire meal, except the dessert, at once. The sweets can be decided on later.
I wish I could impress on the minds of persons in a hotel that it is wretched form to criticize audibly the viands set before them. The person sitting near you is not edified to hear you remark that the soup is wretched, the beef too rare, the coffee lukewarm. If you have any fault to find, do so to the waiter and in such a tone that the other guests can not hear it.
Above all, do not scold the waiter for that for which he is not to blame. He does not purchase the meat, nor does he fry the oysters. Show him that you appreciate this fact, and ask him politely if he can not get you a better cut, or oysters that are not burned. Some persons seem to think that it elevates them in the opinion of observers if they complain of what is set before them. They fancy, apparently, that others will be impressed with the idea that they are accustomed to so much better fare at home than that they now have that it is a trial for them to descend to the plane on which others are eating. The fact of the case is that the person who is accustomed to dainty fare, and to even-threaded living, is too well-bred to call the attention of strangers to the fact.
While we are on this subject it would be well to remind the thoughtless person that when he dines with a friend at that friend’s hotel, on his invitation, he is a guest. It is therefore rude for him to comment unfavorably on the dishes on the table. When, under such circumstances, a guest says to his host _pro tem._, “My dear fellow, they do not give you good veal here!” or, “Are you not tired of the mean butter you eat at this hotel?” he is criticizing in an offensive manner the best that his host can offer him, since he has no house of his own in which to entertain. The guest should act as if it were his friend’s private table, and forbear to criticize fare or service.
One of the often unconsidered items of expense in hotel life is the “tips” that one must give. In no other place is one’s hand so often in one’s pocket. A porter carries a bag, and he must be tipped; another carries up a trunk, he must be tipped; one rings for iced water, and the boy bringing it expects his ten cents; one wants hot water every morning, and in notifying the chambermaid of this fact, must slip a bit of silver into her palm. The waiter at one’s table must be frequently remembered, and the head waiter will give one better attention if he finds something in his hand after he shows the new arrival to a table, and, of course, on leaving, one will also give a fee. So it goes! When, however, one is staying by the week at a hotel, “tips” need be given only once a week,—unless some unusual favor is asked. We may rebel against the custom, and with reason. But as not one of us can alter the state of affairs, it is well to accept it with a good grace, or reconcile one’s self to indifferent service.