Restaurants Make Me Uncomfortable

I'm already perpetually confused and scatter-brained on a daily basis, but my awkwardness amps up when I venture out into the real world (which only happens a countable number of times; I don't go out) and go to a new restaurant.

Now as my blog title has warned you, I'm only kinda, sorta, (but not really) barely an adult and I have yet to grasp how the real world works. Learning simple social norms of a restaurant are completely foreign to me. I honestly get anxiety when I have to order my own food.

In high school, instead of going to the beach (the beach here is seriously disappointing so I don't know why so many people go) or going to a ragin' house party, my friends and I were the type to go out for meals at restaurants. I know, we're so classy.

And WITHOUT FAIL I always end up embarrassing myself.

One lovely evening we had planned to go to the local Olive Garden. And also being self-diagnosed with driving anxiety, even though I had my driver's license, I made my mom drop me off (I'm honestly the coolest girl ever).

So there I was, standing in front of Olive Garden. I texted my friends to let them know I was there but I was the first to arrive. I walked in the waiting area and looked around at the mass of people waiting and had no rational thought about what I was supposed to do. Food should really just magically appear in my arms when I walk in Olive Garden. I had no idea what "adults" were supposed to do, but I followed my credo, "Fake it 'til you make it", and walked up to the counter.

There, I asked the hostess the most brilliant question ever asked, "Um, am I supposed to tell you something?"

Her face morphed into confusion (she was probably questioning my intellect) and she replied, "What?"

I don't know what I was thinking, I wasn't on a mystical quest or anything. What did I expect her to say, "Why yes, you must be Viviane. Deliver these menus to everyone on this list before the last grain of sand reaches the bottom of this hourglass. Use this amulet to defeat the dragons and you will receive your next clue."

"Um, am I supposed to tell you how many people I'm with?" I said.

"Uh...yeah."

"Oh, four please."

She grabs some menus and tries to gesture me to a table.

"Um, but my friends aren't here yet."

"Um ok, then wait for your friends to come and then ask for a table." After I brushed off her RUDENESS, I sat down in the waiting area.

But it turns out that  I WAS AT THE WRONG OLIVE GARDEN (where I live there's like 3 in the area). I had just embarrassed myself for NO REASON apparently. I ran out of there (and waited for my mom to pick me up) and tried to pretend that train wreck never happened.

It would have been so traumatic if I had to sit by myself and wait for my friends who would never show up if the hostess had allowed me to get a table though.

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Another day, I was going to a new restaurant for brunch (my lifestyle is so fancy) and the cashier gave me this odd block of technology after I ordered. It looked like one of those buzzers to me so I waited for it to buzz.

I saw the lights on it flicker and got up to collect my food. There wasn't a proper pick up spot so I had just stood in the middle of the restaurant hoping to collect my much-awaited food. A man came to me (the manager no less) and asked me what I was doing because I looked like I was loitering aimlessly.

Obviously stunned that he thought I was dumb and just standing in the middle of the room for no reason, I told him my buzzer flickered and asked where my food was.

He kindly (and with disbelief) told me that the "buzzer" was in fact just a coaster and that they bring the food to you there.

So APPARENTLY, the "buzzer" was just a super chic, modern take on a coaster. I literally tried to pick up my food with a coaster. A COASTER.

Later the waiter came by with our food, but my sister was in the restroom and I didn't know what she ordered.

He asked if anyone ordered a Caesar salad. And I said, "Um, I don't know did I? Is it this?" and I held up my sister's receipt at him.

"Um, yeah." He placed the salad down.  

I'm embarrassed to say I was so frazzled, I didn't read "CAESAR SALAD" right on the receipt. I swear I'm decently intelligent. He probably thought I was illiterate and didn't remember my own order. 

Can someone please write a manual on the social norms of different restaurants? How do adults do this?! I don't know how restaurants work; I should just stay at home.

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Please tell me things like this happen to you too. Comment below!