Local waitpeople offer tips for diners who failed Manners 101.

Window Seat

We, the dining public, all likely harbor a pet peeve or two when it comes to receiving good service. Like when we''re shelling out our payola on a restaurant-prepared meal and the waiter requires a multi-syllabic response when our masticating mouths are fully occupied. "How are you enjoying your dinners?" they ask. "Mmm-ferrry [gulp] niizze [gasp]," you respond. When such intrusions continue, the question of leaving a 15 percent gratuity becomes a moral debate that derails you from the task at hand: enjoying dinner.

My personal worst occurred in an elegant house of fine dining in which the waiter constantly referred to me as "Ma-DAM." Since I still look around for an elderly woman when I''m referred to as "Ma''am," MaDAM completely blew my mind. Had it not been for my dining companion''s obvious entertainment with my predicament, my sense of humor would have failed me entirely.

But these are small potatoes in a bushel basket of good dining experiences. Que sera sera. This column puts the shoe on the other foot. It''s dedicated to those who know, as Bob Dylan says, you gotta serve somebody. As we near the U.S. Open golf tournament, a swelling throng of encroaching tourists will jingle our coffers with their need to be fed and lodged--and local waitstaff personnel have a few complaints of their own.The results of a random survey of professional servers (whose identity shall remain anonymous) reveal how NOT to piss off the waitstaff.

"It''s a real busy night and you''ve got a party of 10," says J, "and they all want separate checks." A professional waiter of 20 years, he emits a plaintive groan from the lower regions of his esophagus. "And, not that it happens very often, but sometimes it seems like certain people enjoy waiter-bashing. They come in, in a bad mood, and nothing is good enough. They get bored with picking on each other, so they start picking on the waiter." Frequently, he points out, alcohol plays a role in this unseemly sport.

"On the weekends, I get all the freaky people," confides E. "They order something, and after you''ve already put it in the system and the chef has fired it, they change their mind. Or the husband will order for his wife while she''s in the bathroom and she''ll come back and say ''That''s not what I wanted!'' Then," she sighs heavily, "you have to go to the chef and try and explain." (It comes out of his/her food cost budget.) "And, at the end of the shift, you''ve got to track it all on the computer and record what happened and why. The worst one, though--this just happened to me--my customers had eaten their entire meal without a complaint and then said, ''It was good. But it wasn''t excellent. We''d like free desserts!"

Here''s another one. "Sometimes people ask really dumb questions," says K. "Like, ''Do you have milk?'' There are restaurants that don''t have milk? That''s not so bad. What''s really bad is when they snap their fingers at you to get your attention. Or they really stress you out because they insist they''re in a hurry, and then they sit around for half an hour after they''ve eaten!"

"Yeah, I hate it when they snap their fingers," says L. "Like you''re a dog. They''re the ones that bark! The biggest one though is not making eye contact. If you don''t make that connection, it de-personalizes the whole thing. There''s no rapport. I''m sure they must be the same way at the dry cleaners or supermarket or wherever, but it really takes away the level of satisfaction from the whole experience, mine and theirs."

There we have it. Anyone guilty of any of these crimes should be given a lifetime sentence to nothing but their own cooking. And count themselves lucky that they weren''t seated in my section.