Or nailed, while they were still living!
Oh, sorry – that a Class III restaurant.
If you overhear the Maitre d’ upbraiding your waiter because he has served white wine in a red wine glass, you’re in the upper reaches of type I and definitely not at a chicken-wings place with a buffalo in the logo.
On the other hand, if you order a whole slab, and the waitress brings you 36 paper napkins, you are in a serious rib joint, type II
If your table has a rod standing upright, with a horseshoe at the bottom for weight and stability, and the rod is holding paper towels…that’s Type II. It’s probably also a rib joint, though I know of a far-out pizza place that also has these conveniences. It’s called the Mellow Mushroom, and it seems like the owners are still stuck in the 60s and 70s, but in a good way.
There’s nothing wrong with eating at a good Type II place, if that’s what you’re in the mood for. Sometimes, though, I do want the cloth tablecloths and napkins, and the wine list.
Still better, sometimes it’s written as “Tip’s for tuition”.
What’s wrong with that? They have that at the place where they sell bagel’s and the worlds “best” cream cheese.
Yes, yes they do. 
When dining there for the 1st time:
Type 1: There’s at least 1 item or ingredient on the menu that you don’t recognize. And when you ask, there’s a good chance the answer will be accompanied by one of these: :rolleyes:
Type 2: The item on the menu that you don’t recognize is guaranteed to be a fried concoction including at least 2 of the following ingredients: potatoes, onions, jalapenos, cheddar.
When dining there for the 3rd time:
Type 1: The item on the menu that you don’t recognize is thoroughly described to you by the chef him/herself, after the someone has informed him or her that you dropped 5 bills last time you were there.
Type 2: The item that you didn’t recognize last time has migrated to the 99 cent menu and you can now find out what it is. Unfortunately, you still can’t figure it out, but you do recognize the potatoes, onions, jalapenos and cheddar.
Type 2: includes an “optional” service charge in the bill, then leaves the tip section of the credit card receipt suggestively blank as well.
Type 2: attempts to clear your plates before you’ve finished.
Type 1: takes your wine bottle away to store it in a cooler, but reacts instantly the second a glass is empty.
Type 1: doesn’t charge you for the bread or the water that you didn’t explicitly ask for.
Wait a minute - is the adult sized adventure tube inside the Rachel Ray action figure? 
Bus boy comes up to you when you’ve eaten the last bit of food on your plate and politely asks if he can take it: Type 1.
You take your tray to a trash can and dump it through a hole that prevents you from tossing the tray also, while stepping around remains of meals from those whose aim was not so good - type 2.
Honest, serious interjection:
I was shocked last night when, at a decidedly Type 1+ restaurant, the waiter filled my wine glass for me when it got low. I’ve dined high enough to order by the bottle before, but never at a place where I wasn’t expected to pour my own damn refill.
And yes, the rack of lamb with apricot glaze was divine, thanks for asking.
Well, to be honest I dislike it intensely when the waiting staff take it upon themselves to decide when I need a refill but if they’re going to do it they should at least do it properly.
It’s the company supplying the machines that sets the option for ‘gratuity’, not the restaurant. They seem to have a default setting which they provide to anywhere with table service, which includes this option, irrespective of what actually happens in any particular establishment.
Really? I hadn’t noticed that before. In which case, I’d rather the waiting staff entered zero for the tip, or commented that service was included already.
Often that’s what happened when you get given a remote handset which is asking for your pin - they’ve already pressed the buttons to refuse a tip, to confirm the amount, etc. Often all against company policy/bank rules/whatever, but in some cases the people on the ground know best.
Make that:
-If they have seasoned tomato sauce in a little glass bowl, Type I. The presence of term Ketchup or Catsup served in any form signifies type II.
Booths instead of chairs: can go either way.
Dish descriptions list “lite” selections, or contain the phrase “Extra cheese add 50 cents”: Type II.
Separate bar menu: Type I.
Grand piano in the dining area: Type I.
Jukebox in the dining area: Leaning type II, but could go either way.
Boom box behind the counter: Type II.
Staff wearing pressed shirts and bow ties: Type I.
Staff wearing paper hats: Type II.
Staff wearing much of the menu on their clothes: Leave.
Good advice in general.
What do you do with your car while you eat?
Valet parking: Type I. Drive-Thru window: Type II.
What’s on the table?
Linen tablecloth and candle(s): Type I. Metal napkin dispenser and crumbs from whoever ate there last: Type II.
How are you greated at the door?
Buy a finely dressed host or hostess who graciously welcomes you to the restaurant: Type I. By a plastic clown with a motion detector and a prerecorded message: Type II.
(bolding mine)
:eek: What kind of restaurants are you going to?
Yeah, that kind of toy. A very adult Chuck E. Cheese indeed.
In a type I restaurant you may be served a plate of black olives as an appetizer. In a type z restaurant, the “olives” will get off the plate and scuttle away.