10 phrases boomers say to restaurant servers without realizing how difficult they sound

Some sentences leave our mouths on autopilot.

If you grew up in the Boomer era (hand raised), you probably have a few restaurant phrases that feel harmless because your dad said them, your buddies said them, and you’ve said them for 40 years.

I won’t pretend to have it all figured out, but after decades of meals, a stint helping a friend run a café, and a few eye-opening talks with servers in my family, I’ve learned this: certain lines create extra work, confusion, or stress behind the scenes—without us realizing it.

Here are ten common culprits, why they’re tougher than we think, and what to say instead so everyone—us, the server, and the kitchen—has a better meal.

1) “What’s good here? Bring me your favorite.”

It sounds friendly. But it puts the server on the hook for your taste, allergies, budget, and risk tolerance. If they pick the spicy catfish and you wanted mild, the night starts with disappointment they didn’t earn. It also takes time during a rush when clear orders are gold.

Say instead: “I like mild and savory, not too heavy. Two dishes you’d recommend?”
Why it helps: You give taste guardrails and still invite guidance. It’s fast, respectful, and the odds of loving dinner go up.

Quick tip: If you truly want a surprise, add a budget and a boundary: “Surprise me under $25, no cilantro.”

2) “Make it extra hot—like really hot—unless it’s too hot.”

This ties the kitchen in knots. “Extra” and “too” are subjective, and heat in some cuisines comes from components added at different steps. If the cook overshoots your moving target, they’ll be blamed for following the words you used.

Say instead: “I enjoy medium heat. If you have a ‘3 out of 5,’ that’s me.”
Why it helps: You translate preference into a dial many kitchens understand. If they don’t use numbers, try “a little kick, not mouth-on-fire.” Clear beats dramatic.

3) “We’re in a hurry—can you rush it?”

You might think you’re helping. In reality, every table thinks their timeline matters most. Rushing risks undercooked food or skipped safety checks. It also puts the server in a bind with the line cooks, who have tickets in order for a reason.

Say instead: “We have to leave by 7:15. What dishes are quickest tonight?”
Why it helps: You invite them to steer you toward items that naturally move fast. You’re not asking them to bulldoze the queue; you’re asking for smart choices.

Anecdote: I once told a server we “had to be out fast.” She suggested the rotisserie chicken over the steak and had us paid before the dessert menu hit. We made the show with five minutes to spare—and she got a sincere thank-you for saving us from our own poor planning.

4) “Can I get it just like this, but with these four changes?”

Substitutions within reason? Fine. A custom blueprint during a dinner rush? Chaos. Every swap increases the chance a step is missed and slows neighboring tables. Some dishes are built to work as-is; pulling a key element breaks the balance.

Say instead: “Any chance to swap fries for salad? If not, I’ll take it as listed.”
Why it helps: One modest ask keeps the line moving. If you need changes for health reasons, flag the true musts and accept the rest: “No butter for medical reasons; otherwise, chef’s call.”

Rule of thumb: Two edits max unless it’s an allergy. More than that? Choose a different dish.

5) “We’ll all split the check evenly, except I didn’t drink, and she had shrimp…”

Death by a thousand qualifiers. Servers can split checks in countless ways, but on a busy night, custom math for a table of six is a bottleneck. The more “excepts,” the more time the whole room waits.

Say instead: Decide at the table: even split, separate checks from the start, or one person pays and you Venmo. Then tell the server in one sentence.
Why it helps: Clear billing keeps the service flow intact, which means faster dessert for you and everyone else.

Quick script: “Separate checks, please—just food with each name, and add the shared bread evenly.”

6) “We’re ready to order—oh wait, you go first—no, you—hang on…”

It reads as indecision, but the kitchen hears “jam.” When a server stands idling while you reshuffle, their other tables wait. Multiply that by five and the room glues up.

Say instead: “We need two more minutes; then we’ll be ready.”
Why it helps: You buy a clean window and they go help someone else rather than hovering in uncertainty.

Small habit: Put menus down when ready. It’s a subtle cue crews rely on.

7) “This isn’t what I expected; I’m not happy with it.”

You’re allowed not to like a dish. The problem is vagueness that arrives after you’ve eaten half. The fix is specificity and timing. The earlier you speak up (without drama), the faster they can solve it.

Say instead (early): “I thought this was roasted, but it’s cold—should it be? If so, I’ll switch to the burger.”
Why it helps: You give an objective detail and a solution you’d accept. No blame, just course-correction.

If you waited: “I didn’t enjoy this one—my mistake on the choice. Could we see the dessert menu?” Honesty earns goodwill.

8) “Can you make it like my mom used to?”

Sweet sentiment, impossible instruction. Unless your mom moonlighted in that kitchen, they’re guessing. The result is disappointment and frustration on both sides.

Say instead: “I love a crispy-edge pancake and not too sweet. Is that how yours comes?”
Why it helps: You describe the outcome you want, not a memory no one else knows.

Side benefit: You’ll often get a pro tip—“Ask for medium batter and a hot griddle; that’s our crispiest.”

9) “We’ll move tables—this one’s too loud/bright/cold.”

Shifting mid-service sounds simple; it can upend a floor plan. Sections are assigned by server so income is fair. Moving tables can take your check from one person’s section to another, usually requiring manager overrides and reassignments—time the whole team doesn’t have in the weeds.

Say instead (on arrival): “Any chance for a quieter corner? We can wait.”
Why it helps: Asking early and offering patience gives hosts options without scrambling the map.

If mid-meal is the only option: “We’re freezing—could we move when you have a natural break? Happy to wait.” That respect matters.

10) “Take your time—no rush!” (when there actually is)

We think we’re being kind. The server hears “delay everything” and deprioritizes you so they can save other tables in distress. Ten minutes later you’re annoyed your coffee never came and they’re confused because you literally said “no rush.”

Say instead: “We’re enjoying the evening. Drinks now, then we’ll order food in about 10 minutes.”
Why it helps: Friendly vibe, clear signal. Everyone wins.

Why these lines land harder than we think

• Ambiguity multiplies. A fuzzy ask at one table echoes through the kitchen, the expo window, and the POS.

• Timing is invisible to guests. Servers juggle five to ten micro-deadlines at once. Precision helps them hit all of them.

• Money flows through fairness. Moving seats, splitting checks five ways with exceptions, or monopolizing a server in indecision mode tilts earnings and service for the whole section.

What servers wish we’d do (told to me over many family dinners)

• Decide substitutions before they come back to the table.

• Order in the same sequence the server writes (left to right), so they don’t lose their place.

• Flag allergies first, not after.

• Ask for refills when you still have a few sips; it prevents emergency laps.

• Tip on the total before discounts if a coupon or gift card is involved—the work didn’t shrink.

Two tiny scenes that changed how I order

The salad traffic jam.
At a crowded diner, I asked for “the chef’s salad, but no ham, sub turkey, extra olives, dressing on the side, chopped small.” The server smiled. Ten minutes later, I watched my ticket come back twice with clarifying questions. Meanwhile, her other tables waited while she played telephone with my preferences. I learned a simple rule that day: if I want to design the dish, I should cook at home.

The apology coffee.
A young server once forgot to fire a dessert and looked stricken when we checked in. Instead of a lecture, I said, “No worries—coffee while we wait would be perfect.” She brought two on the house and hustled. The whole table relaxed, and she left with a big tip because mistakes are human; effort is what counts.

Scripts that smooth the night (steal them)

• Taste guidance: “Savory, not spicy—two top picks?”

• Heat level: “If mild is 1 and hellfire is 5, I’m a 3.”

• Time limit: “We need to leave by 7:15. What’s quick?”

• Substitutions: “Any chance to swap fries for salad? If not, as listed.”

• Split checks: “Separate checks, please; entrees on each, apps split evenly.”

• Not loving a dish (early): “Is this meant to be cold? If so, I’ll switch, no problem.”

• Seating: “Quiet corner if possible—we can wait.”

• Lingering happily: “We’ll order dessert in 10; coffee now would be great.”

A gentle note to my peers

Look, I’m the first to admit I don’t know everything, but I do know this: most servers are running a mental marathon with a smile. When we trade cute lines for clear ones, the whole room breathes easier. We still get what we want—better, faster, warmer—because clarity is kindness dressed in regular clothes.

The bottom line

The phrases Boomers (and plenty of others) say without thinking—“Bring your favorite,” “extra hot unless it’s too hot,” “rush it,” “four substitutions,” “split the check but not evenly,” “we’re ready…wait,” “this isn’t what I expected,” “like my mom’s,” “we’ll move,” and “no rush” when we do rush—sound simple at the table and turn complex in the weeds.

Swap them for clear guardrails, early signals, modest edits, and honest timelines, and you’ll watch the magic happen: food arrives how you like it, faster; servers smile because you made their job easier; and the night lands softer for everyone in the room. That’s not just good manners. That’s good eating.