9 things upper-middle-class people do at restaurants that working-class people find wasteful

Ever notice how two people can look at the exact same restaurant experience and see something completely different?

I spent my twenties working in fine-dining restaurants and boutique hotels, serving ultra-wealthy families at high-end resorts.

Growing up with parents who were teachers, I straddled two worlds. My folks valued education over material wealth, and watching them carefully budget for our occasional restaurant meals taught me one perspective.

Then my career exposed me to how the upper-middle class approaches dining, and honestly? The contrast was jarring.

After years of observing both sides, I've noticed patterns that highlight a fundamental disconnect. What looks like a smart dining choice to one group seems like throwing money away to another.

And here's the thing: Both perspectives make perfect sense depending on where you're standing.

Let me share nine things I've witnessed that perfectly capture this divide.

1) Ordering bottled water instead of tap

"Still or sparkling?" The server asks, and without hesitation, they respond with their preference for San Pellegrino or Fiji.

During my time serving at high-end resorts, I'd watch tables rack up $40 water bills without blinking. Meanwhile, my dad would literally wince if we ordered anything but tap water at restaurants. "It's the same water," he'd say, and honestly, he wasn't wrong.

But here's what I learned from those ultra-wealthy clients: For them, it wasn't about the water. It was about the experience, the presentation, the way a chilled bottle of Evian made them feel. They weren't buying hydration; they were buying a moment.

The disconnect happens because working-class folks see water as water. Upper-middle-class diners see it as part of the ambiance. Neither is wrong, but man, does it create tension when these worlds collide.

2) Barely touching expensive appetizers

Picture this: A $28 burrata appetizer arrives, they take two bites, push it around the plate, and move on.

I used to internally scream watching this happen night after night. That's grocery money for some families.

But here's what took me years to understand: For upper-middle-class diners, ordering multiple courses isn't about hunger. It's about variety, about tasting, about the social ritual of sharing plates.

They're not thinking "I need to finish this because it cost money." They're thinking "I want to try everything interesting on the menu." It's abundance mindset versus scarcity mindset, played out on a dinner plate.

3) Sending back dishes that are "fine"

"This isn't quite what I expected. Could we try something else?"

The steak is cooked. It's edible. It's probably even good. But it's not exactly what they wanted, so back it goes.

Working-class diners often operate from a place of not wanting to cause trouble, not wanting to waste food, not wanting to seem difficult.

Upper-middle-class diners? They see it as getting what they paid for. If they're dropping $200 on dinner, that salmon better be exactly medium-rare, not medium.

The fascinating thing is watching servers navigate this. In luxury hospitality, we were trained to anticipate these requests, to make replacements seem effortless. It's expected behavior in that world.

4) Ordering wine by the bottle when only drinking two glasses

During my Bangkok years, I'd watch expats order $80 bottles of wine, drink a glass and a half each, and leave the rest.

The math never made sense from a working-class perspective. Two glasses from the bottle costs more than just ordering two glasses individually. But that's thinking about wine as alcohol delivery.

Upper-middle-class diners think about wine as an experience enhancer. The ceremony of choosing, the presentation, the ability to top off whenever they want without flagging down a server.

Plus, there's the status element. Ordering by the glass feels limited. Ordering a bottle feels abundant.

5) Getting multiple entrees to share instead of individual meals

"Let's just order five mains for the table and share everything."

I've seen tables of four order seven entrees, take three bites of each, and leave most behind. From a working-class perspective, this is insanity. You order your meal, you eat your meal, done.

But upper-middle-class dining is often about the experience of trying everything. It's about turning dinner into an event, a tasting menu of their own creation. The waste isn't waste to them; it's the cost of variety.

What really gets me is that this approach actually makes sense if money isn't your primary constraint. You get to taste more dishes, have more shared experiences, create more conversation.

But when you've grown up cleaning your plate because "there are starving children," watching perfectly good food go back to the kitchen hurts.

6) Adding expensive supplements to already pricey dishes

"Could we add truffle shavings to that? And maybe some extra caviar on the side?"

The pasta already costs $38. The truffle shavings add another $25. The tiny spoonful of caviar? Another $30.

Here's what's wild: These additions rarely transform the dish. They're marginal improvements at best. But for upper-middle-class diners, it's not about value optimization.

It's about having the option, using the option, experiencing the "best" version of something even if the difference is minimal.

Working at those high-end resorts taught me that the ultra-wealthy actually understand this game differently. They know the truffle shavings aren't worth $25.

But $25 is nothing to them, so why not? It's like me adding extra cheese to a burger for 50 cents.

7) Leaving substantial tips on already included service charges

Many upscale restaurants now include an 18-20% service charge automatically. Upper-middle-class diners often tip another 10-15% on top.

I get both sides of this as someone who worked for tips. Yes, it's generous. Yes, servers appreciate it. But working-class diners see that service charge and think "I already tipped." They're not being cheap; they're being logical.

The upper-middle class treats tipping as a display of generosity, a way to feel good, a social signal. It's not about the server's rent getting paid; it's about what that extra tip says about them as people.

8) Ordering expensive coffee and dessert when already full

Nobody needs a $8 cappuccino and a $16 chocolate soufflé after a four-course meal. Nobody's still hungry.

But that's not the point. The after-dinner coffee and dessert ritual is about prolonging the experience, about the ceremony of ending the meal "properly," about having done the full thing.

I watched my own perspective shift on this over the years. Early in my career, I saw it as waste. Later, working with those ultra-wealthy families, I learned they saw it as completeness. The meal isn't over until the espresso arrives, regardless of hunger or caffeine needs.

9) Valet parking when street parking is available nearby

Finally, there's the $20 valet when there's a spot literally across the street.

This one still gets me sometimes. The walk would take 30 seconds. The money saved could buy an appetizer. But upper-middle-class diners aren't doing cost-benefit analysis on parking.

They're buying convenience, buying the feeling of being taken care of, buying the absence of hassle.

They pull up, hand over the keys, and walk straight in. No circling for parking, no walking in the rain, no remembering where they parked. To them, $20 is a small price for that smoothness.

Final thoughts

After years bouncing between these two worlds, here's what I've figured out: Neither approach is wrong. They're just optimizing for different things.

Working-class diners optimize for value, for sustenance, for not wasting money that could go elsewhere. Upper-middle-class diners optimize for experience, for variety, for feeling abundant and cared for.

The tension comes when we judge each other's optimization strategies without understanding the underlying values. What looks wasteful from one angle looks like living well from another. What seems sensible to one group feels limiting to the other.

Understanding this helped me stop judging both my parents' frugal restaurant habits and my wealthy clients' seemingly wasteful ones. They're all just trying to get what they value most from the experience.