I could tell you many stories of my near-death scrapes with cars and cabs on my hour long bike ride to and from a tiny upscale restaurant in Manhattan, the blis

I could tell you many stories of my near-death scrapes with cars and cabs on my hour long bike ride to and from a tiny upscale restaurant in Manhattan, the blistered feet my girlfriend at the time would lovingly restore after 8 hours on my feet, and barely making rent on my tiny Brooklyn apartment I shared with 5 others while narrowly avoiding all manner of attempted thefts of the few discretionary dollars I had left. When I choose to spend the money I have, I want a good experience. Service is a very big piece of that. My stepfather is a restaurant owner. He has always been the model of politeness. Articles have been written about the magic he'd pour out as maître d' in the early aughts. I learned from him the transformative impact good waitstaff can have on a dinner which is in many ways staged theater with you acting your best (honestly, dishonestly, you are still presenting a face of you) for your date you've held in enough esteem to offer this piece of your life to.