Let’s talk about bad tables. Most restaurants have at least one that’s too close to the kitchen or the front door, or positioned under the air conditioning vent or in a too-dark corner. And most of us have been seated there at least once.

It’s not a personal slight. Real estate is expensive and restaurants are looking for that sweet spot where the maximum number of revenue-generating tables are filled with happy, comfortable customers.

I’m not usually sensitive to where I’m seated. I try to keep a low profile anyway, and don’t mind when others get the prime geography. If a designated seat is bad enough for me to notice, I just ask for a different one. Most of the time, the strategy works. But the other night, I was seated at table so bad it was actually funny.

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