Compassion isn’t a garnish—it’s the main course.
You can tell a lot about someone by how they treat a server.
I learned that the hard way in my twenties, running plates in a luxury dining room where the floors gleamed, the wine list had its own binder, and a missed cue could ripple through the night like a dropped fork.
Most guests were great.
Some were unforgettable for the wrong reasons.
The worst offenders all used the same handful of phrases—throwaway lines that revealed a total lack of compassion for the human being standing in front of them.
If we care about being better humans (and better diners), it starts with the words we choose.
Here are seven phrases that are huge red flags—and what to say instead:
1) "Can you hurry up? We have somewhere to be."
Urgency isn’t rude, contempt is.
I get it—maybe you’ve got a show in 45 minutes or a toddler who turns into a pumpkin after 7:30.
But “can you hurry up?” throws your stress like a hot potato into someone else’s hands and implies they’re not already moving at full speed.
On busy nights, a server is juggling eight tables, three dietary mods, a printer spitting tickets like confetti, and a running clock in their head for every course in the room.
You don’t see the kilometers they’re walking, or the line cook who just burned their hand—you only see your clock.
What to say instead: “We’re on a time crunch—what’s realistic?” or “Could we do mains together to save time?”
That signals respect and invites problem-solving.
If you’re at a café or quick-service spot, ask which items are fastest to fire.
There’s almost always a path that works—salads, prepped bowls, roasted veg sides—if you’re willing to collaborate rather than command.
2) "Are you even listening?"
There’s a way to flag a miscommunication without insulting someone’s dignity.
Service is a live performance with overlapping audio tracks.
The music’s loud, your friend’s telling a story, and the server’s hearing internal chatter from the POS, the kitchen pass, and table 12’s anniversary cupcake request.
Sometimes details get crossed.
Saying “are you even listening?” turns a correctable mistake into a personal attack.
It also shuts down the exact listening you want, because most people go into defensive mode when they feel disrespected.
What to say instead: “Let me repeat my order to be sure I was clear,” or “Just to confirm, no Parmesan on the mushroom risotto.”
Short, specific, kind—you’ll get better results every time.
3) "Get me someone who knows what they’re doing!"
This one stings as it treats a human like a broken tool.
Maybe your server is new, maybe they’re covering a section because a colleague called out, or maybe they’re excellent but the system just glitched.
Barking for “someone who knows what they’re doing” publicly shames them and nukes the trust that good service runs on.
When I was a floor manager, I watched guests bulldoze rookies who were two weeks in and trying hard.
You could see the light dim behind their eyes.
Guess who quits hospitality after enough nights like that? The ones who might have become your favorite server.
What to say instead: “Could we get a manager’s help with this?”
That’s totally fair when something serious goes wrong—an allergy mix-up, a wrong bottle, a long delay.
You elevate the issue without humiliating the person in front of you.
4) "Tell the kitchen they messed up. I want it comped."
Mistakes happen, but entitlement doesn’t have to.
If your dish isn’t what you ordered—or it misses a clear request like “no butter”—you deserve a fix.
However, opening with “I want it comped” skips past resolution to punishment.
It assumes bad faith and treats the restaurant like an enemy.
In a healthy hospitality culture, comping is a tool leaders use to make things right.
It’s not a lever guests pull to “win.”
When I see a plate come back with grace—“Hey, this came out with yogurt and I can’t do dairy; could we redo this?”—the team moves mountains to make it perfect, fast, and often with something extra as a thank-you for the patience.
What to say instead: “This isn’t quite right; could we have it remade?”
If you have a strict dietary need (vegan, kosher, celiac), say it clearly upfront and again here.
You’re not being difficult—you’re helping the kitchen protect you.
If it truly ruined the experience—say you waited 30 minutes and then got the wrong thing—explain that calmly.
Good managers will make it right without being asked.
5) "Smile, will you?"
“Smile” is the customer-service version of “you look better when I control you.”
It’s not feedback; it’s a command about someone’s face.
It ignores that service is hard physical work, it ignores that people have complex lives outside your table, and it also assumes that a forced grin equals good hospitality.
Some of the best pros I ever worked with didn’t plaster on a cartoon smile.
They were present, they remembered your name and your usual sparkling water, they noticed when you were deep in conversation and held back, and they anticipated the vegan swap you meant to ask for.
That’s hospitality.
What to say instead: “Thanks for taking care of us,” or “Appreciate you.”
Those land every time.
If the vibe feels off, try generosity first: “Looks busy—let us know if there’s anything we can do to make the flow easier.”
You’ll be amazed how far a little grace goes.
6) "That’s not my problem!"
This one is empathy’s kryptonite.
A line is down, a courier disappeared with your takeaway bag, or a fryer shorted out so the cauliflower wings are 86’d.
Saying “that’s not my problem” draws a bright line between your needs and everyone else’s reality—and it tells a person doing their best that you don’t care what’s happening on their side of the pass.
How do we take care of each other so the guest experience takes care of itself?
Well, you just have to remember there’s a team back there making it possible for you to enjoy a night out.
What to say instead: “That’s tough—what are our options?”
Maybe the kitchen can sub in a roasted squash dish for the sold-out special, maybe your server can split courses or expedite a salad, or maybe the manager can comp a dessert for the delay.
Solutions appear when you stay on the same side of the table.
7) "I don’t tip for service like this."
Finally, the nuclear option people toss when they want to hurt, not help.
Tipping culture is messy and varies by region.
We can debate structures all day, but using the tip line as a weapon—“I don’t tip for service like this”—is the opposite of compassion.
It punishes the one role most exposed to your mood and least able to fix systemic issues like understaffing, tech glitches, or company policy.
In many places, servers still rely on tips to reach a livable wage, and tip pools often include hosts, food runners, and barbacks you never see.
When you zero out to “send a message,” you could be docking a dishwasher’s share of the night.
If the experience genuinely missed the mark, the adult move is to speak with a manager and describe what happened.
Clear, specific feedback leads to training and change.
Tip-bombs lead to resentment and turnover.
What to do instead: If service was okay but slow due to circumstances, tip fairly and leave notes in the survey or a calm word at the end.
Your goal is to improve the system, not scorch the earth.
The bottom line
Hospitality is a human exchange, not a vending machine.
The seven phrases above don’t just make service harder—they make us smaller.
When we swap them for language that’s clear, kind, and collaborative, two things happen.
Our meals go better, and so do our lives beyond the table.
If you want to live better, eat better, and be better, start where you are—at the next café counter or corner booth.
Ask a helpful question, state what you need without contempt, tip thoughtfully, and thank generously.
Compassion isn’t a garnish—it’s the main course.
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