THESE VIGNETTES—comprising a comedy in three short scenes—are based on true stories seen, experienced and overheard in Manhattan restaurants recently. The diners’ names have been omitted to protect my privacy.

SCENE 1:
MISS MANAGEMENT

SETTING:
Bustling brasserie. Midmorning. Waitress awaits breakfast order.

DINER
I’ll have a double espresso, two eggs over easy and a side of sautéed spinach.

WAITRESS
Well, we really don’t do spinach for breakfast.

DINER
Hmmm… I see a spinach omelet on the menu.

WAITRESS
That spinach is only for the omelet.

SCENE 2:
WAITER AS GOD

SETTING:
Italian restaurant. Waiter approaches the table with a bright, cheery attitude to show off his Type-A personality.

WAITER
Hi there! Welcome. My name is Alex and I will be your server tonight.
(No response from diner, who ignores the irrelevant piece of information and statement of the obvious.)

WAITER
Do you know how our menu works?

DINER
(There is a moment of silence as the diner ponders the stupidity of the question.)
Let me see, I order from what is listed, you bring it, I eat it, then I pay?

SCENE 3:
RESTAURANT AS DOCTOR

SETTING:
A trendy, hip restaurant posing as a thrown-together casual afterthought. Diner calls for a reservation. Reservationist answers.

RESERVATIONIST
May I please have your phone number?

DINER
(Startled by abrupt greeting)
Uh, 212-867-5309.
(Hoping his “212” number will count for something even though he knows he isn’t “in their system”)

RESERVATIONIST
Your name?

DINER
Joe Doe. J-o-e. D-o-e.

RESERVATIONIST
Are you looking for a reservation?

DINER
Uh, yes—for two weeks from now.

RESERVATIONIST
We do not take reservations.

DINER
(Annoyed)
Why did you ask me for my phone number and then my name if you don’t take reservations?