Before you spend two days fasting in preparation for that all-you-can-eat macaroni bar at a fifty-foot-long buffet during your cousin David’s wedding, check out my list of 3 of the worst people at a buffet.
Whoever invented the concept of buffets probably didn’t foresee the widespread display of unmannerly behavior that would accompany someone’s third helping of chicken potpie. Or maybe they did… and that disgusts me even more.
Modern Manners Guy is hosted by Richie Frieman. A transcript is available at Simplecast.
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Let’s be clear on one thing; buffets are not meant to be fancy. Even if it’s a ten-station filet buffet that costs more than most people pay for their first car, there is never a time when that much consumption should ever be considered elegant. Yes, you may see people dressed nicely at a wedding while holding an empty plate that is begging for every square inch to be occupied, but that still doesn’t get over the sloppiness that happens with buffets. Now, I want to point out that it’s not the buffet itself or the server’s fault that rude people take to the chocolate fountain with more enthusiasm than Swifties to a Travis Kelce jersey sale. Yet, that aside, unmannerly behavior can turn even the most highbrow black-tie affair into a Cracker Barrel at 2 AM after Halloween.
So, before you spend two days fasting in preparation for that all-you-can-eat macaroni bar at a fifty-foot-long buffet during your cousin David’s wedding, check out my list of 3 of the worst people at a buffet. Grab an extra plate, because this episode is supersized with rudeness.
Over the summer, I went on vacation with my family and chose our particular hotel because they had a complimentary breakfast buffet that looked perfect for the four of us. Yet, even if the pictures lied and it was subpar at best, I would at least be saving money by getting my kids some boxes of cereal and fruit “on the house.” To my pleasant surprise the hotel buffet was incredible! The eggs were fluffier than a puppy Goldendoodle after a grooming, the fruit was so fresh you would have thought there was a farm in the back, and the pancakes hit the spot as always. Better yet, it was clean—impeccable, in fact—which always helps to alleviate any fears (and if you travel a lot you know the fear) of an impending stomach bug from an unclean buffet. All was perfect at the buffet until one guy behind me started to coach me as I moved down the buffet line.
Despite the fact that I’m very familiar with buffets, this didn’t stop this nosey Coach who acted like my “buffet interpreter” as if buffets were a foreign concept to me. This particular Coach had a keen eye for everything I was putting on my plate and took it upon himself to interject his opinions into every move I made.
For example, here were some of his greatest hits:
Good lord, man! Who asked you? I didn’t. And lest you think I was expecting a buffet designed for the royal family at a beachside hotel chain, I was not. Despite the nice pictures online, I figured there wouldn’t be a New York-style oven making bagels from scratch every five minutes and the waffle mix wasn’t going to be gourmet. Also, I went into this buffet understanding that everything on display has been/will be sneezed or coughed on a thousand times, no matter how clean it looks. So, I’m not worried about an apple doing me in. I just wanted some decent sustenance to keep my kids from complaining about needing a snack for the next three hours.
I feel like I’m speaking to my mom when I tell her not to talk to strangers in public (which means, don’t offer your unsolicited advice in public to random people) when dealing with the Coach. Both of which make me equally stressed. Folks, a buffet is not a place to dissect the details of every dish like you’re on Top Chef. If it’s hot when it should be, cold when it should be, and even decently fresh, that’s a win. Don’t let this buffet weirdo ruin your meal or deter you from trying anything new either. After all, when it’s all you can eat, you get to try all you can try as well.
Am I the only one who wishes there was some sort of universal timer for someone making a decision in line to buy something? You ever been to a Starbucks and had someone ask what a “pike” tastes like and is it better than a “blonde”? I have, and it’s torture. This is Starbucks! They’ve had the same drinks for twenty years! And don’t get me started on the person who stands in front of the barista, hands on their hips, head cocked to the side, and a look of wonder as if their choices of syrup will alter the next chapter of their life. I. Want. To. Scream. I’ve actually seen someone in line shout, “Time’s up, dude! Let’s go.” How rude, right? Well, on the outside I thought it was, but on the inside I was like, “Preach, my man! Preach!”
One area where it’s never proper to go ten rounds of “What should I have?” is in line at a buffet. In a buffet line, it’s first come, first serve, and get the heck out of the way if you dilly-daddle for more than two seconds. You’re not choosing your final meal, you’re deciding between a blueberry or cranberry muffin. On the flip side, I’ve witnessed people work a buffet line like they’re in a pit crew for NASCAR with how fast they can move from item to item with precision. Yet, the Sloth takes their time, questions the items, spends minutes picking out only the strawberries from the fruit salad (which is also very rude!), while the rest of the line waits.
The reason why the Sloth is such a buffet fail is that they ruin the experience for all other patrons and also disrupts the flow of a buffet line. Ever look back in a buffet line and see a row of people with empty plates, waiting for their turn? It’s scary and I don’t want to be the one that keeps them from chow time—regardless of the event or location. When you come across a Sloth, don’t feel bad about passing them. Say excuse me, of course, but don’t allow their meandering aimlessly over the salad dressing selection to stop you from enjoying your meal. When it comes to a buffet, it’s not meant to be a madhouse of people just poking and scooping at random—that would cause chaos. However, it is perfectly proper to kindly scoot around someone while they are debating which cheese has the least amount of calories.
Lastly, we come to the Nitpicker, who can sometimes be a combination of the Coach and the Sloth in their inability to embrace the meal in front of them as the only items available. By definition, a Nitpicker is difficult; always finding faults, looking for better options, verbally criticizing anything, and overall just being a gloomy person to be around. I’m not implying you can’t be particular in your choices, yet I am saying that it’s highly improper to outright declare your opinions to those around you. For starters, giving every negative thought out of your head a free pass to exit your mouth is never going to be widely accepted. It’s kind of like when your parents told you if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it all—same thing, yet in this case the Nitpicker feels their take on the current situation isn’t being rude but rather informative. It’s not. It’s rude.
At a buffet, the Nitpicker takes the opportunity to show how worldly they are and all-knowing when it comes to various cuisines, like an even more stuck-up Gordon Ramsey. Usually, the Nitpicker shines brightest at weddings, large corporate parties, or social gatherings where a buffet is crafted to be elegant… but not to the Nitpicker. Even as I do this episode, I’m thinking back to some of my favorite wedding buffets where the dishes looked too good to touch, let alone cut into. Yet, what we all see as the lap of luxury, the Nitpicker sees an upsetting display of “trying.”
If you’ve never come across a Nitpicker in the wild, keep in mind that the Nitpicker has a very specific demeanor when they see a buffet. They’ll mosey on up to a buffet, with a, “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” attitude, rather than everyone else who says, “Fresh sushi! Yes! I love sushi!” They’ll peer over every meal like a surgeon to examine every angle. Then, the Nitpicker will raise their eyebrows and give an eye roll or disgusted smirk. Classy, right? To make things even worse, they’ll poke their fork at an item like an archeologist brushing off dirt from a dinosaur bone they just discovered. All the while, they’re holding up the line and making others around them even question their own choices. Like, “Wait, does that person know something I don’t about the fish? It looks good to me but she turned away?” If someone does ask the Nitpicker their opinion (then again, why would you?), be sure that the Nitpicker will give you some elitist response as if the massive display of food is for “peasants.” In the end, the Nitpicker will either place very little on their plate or skip the meal altogether, and then let everyone at the table know how pitiful the buffet was… “in my opinion.” As a result, their snobbery will be a slap in the face of the venue’s choice of food for the buffet.
Folks, when you’re at a buffet and something isn’t your style or up to your standards, don’t feel like you have to create a PowerPoint to explain why it’s so bad. Keep that to yourself. Find something manageable to eat, and by all means, lighten the heck up. Don’t express your dislike to those around you and don’t dare ask if there’s anything else available to eat, other than what’s provided. I mean, it’s a buffet for crying out loud! What other options do you need? It’s not like they’re hiding eighteen tons of vegan salad dressing in the kitchen just for fun!
Bon appetit.
Are you a Nitpicker or buffet connoisseur who disagrees with my take? Please, send me an email at manners@quickanddirtytips.com, or find me on LinkedIn. I’d love to hear your own buffet experiences.