Before the pandemic I would shudder at the sight at a table of people staring at their phones. I never wanted to be like them, nor sit with them. My table was always lively and I kept the conversation going. I was able to distinguish between my offline and online lives. Restaurants around the globe have made us all the same people we used to be. It is horrible. It's time to get back.AdvertisementAfter initial closures, outdoor dining was allowed to resume after the spring. Restaurants taped QR codes to their tables to prevent coronaviruses from lingering on the physical menus. Then, they outsourced menu delivery to the diner's smartphone and used this to send the QR code to her phone. It was possible that coronavirus could spread via surface transmission. This may have been understandable at the time. We now know that there is very little risk of getting infected from contaminated surfaces. There are many communities in the United States where vaccination rates are high, and low COVID-19 cases. People are going to indoor concerts and dancing at dance clubs before heading back to work. Yet, even though we dine and sneeze at restaurants that are full, many of these establishments still require us to use our smartphones to find what we want. Why? Why?AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementQR codes were a temporary public health measure that was worth the inconvenience. I feel sorry for restaurateurs and workers who have had to redesign their restaurants every few months due to changes in municipal regulations and other public health findings. The QR codes remained ubiquitous well into the age of low surface transmission consensus. I worry that digital-only menus could become a permanent part of public life. Perhaps restaurant owners will embrace the end of printed menus to cut down on one small, but ongoing expense. Perhaps their staff will enjoy the freedom to not have to reprint menus each time there is a seasonal dish on offer. It might be a way to free up servers from customers who are always eager to order the last dish in stock. It can also be removed from a digital menu if it runs out. Those who enjoy scrolling through their smartphones at restaurants may be happy to see the menu. Others may be happy to touch one less surface that is stained or invisibly smeared by another person's snot.AdvertisementAdvertisementBut not me! It's exhausting to have to navigate new digital platforms every time I go out for dinner. I hate spending the first 10 minutes on a social media engagement on my phone. I will never again see a QR code leading to a website that each of seven menu pages are a separate PDF. Each page must be clicked, zoomed-in on, and closed before I can move on to the next.You might think I'm being too dramatic. But, consider this: When the pandemic hit, have you ever been to a restaurant with your parents? Have you ever had to show your parents how to connect their printer to Bluetooth or set up a Roku? The same tedious, frustrating, and relationship-straining task. One of my relatives is in his 70s and loves to dine out. He only has a flip phone that doesn't have internet access. He is already exclusion from much of our digital society. Before the pandemic, American restaurants were one of few places where he felt completely at ease with the rules and knew what to do when he entered the doors. He doesn't know what to expect or what he will be asked to do when going out for lunch.AdvertisementAdvertisementOther customers find default-digital menus alienating. Critics rightly point out that cashless retail and food is prohibitive for those who don't have bank accounts. A QR code menu can mean that a customer without a smartphone or a strong data plan (about one-quarter of Americans with household incomes below $30,000/year) will have to request special accommodations she didn't need before. Foreign travelers may have their smartphones not working on American soil. QR codes can also be used to open the doors for digital surveillance, scams, malware and other illegal activities. It is not ethical to add a digital exclusionary, dangerous, and socially harmful step to an analog system which was functioning perfectly before the pandemic.AdvertisementSome restaurants are going even further and digitizing their entire dining experience. Two months ago, I had lunch outside at a Basque restaurant. It used to offer great service on its patio. It required diners to navigate through a lengthy website with its menu options. With our large, dumb fingers, we had to order food and drink online and enter our credit card information. We had to wait for an email notification to let us know that our drinks were available to be picked up indoors. We had to place another order online when we wanted to order a second cider halfway through our meal. It was more like ordering takeout from the restaurant or shopping online for groceries than dining out.AdvertisementAdvertisementAlthough it is possible that I live in a Luddite bubble, I have only heard of one person who loves the QR code restaurant experience. My colleague, a single woman in her thirties in D.C., stated that she enjoys restaurants that allow customers to see the menu, place orders, and pay using a QR code. This eliminates most of the responsibilities of servers. This may be a good option for restaurants who have experienced staff shortages since their reopening. If the restaurant is adequately staffed and pays a living wage, I'm willing to pay more. My colleague explained that each diner orders and pays her own bill, which made it easier for friends to eat together and prevented awkward conversations between guys on dates about who gets the bill.AdvertisementI think I understand her point of view. It can be frustrating to wait for a check and receive it after a bad date, or when a social interaction has reached its natural conclusion. People don't go to sit-down restaurants for the convenience of speed and ease. During the pandemic, many restaurant workers told me that diners go to restaurants for their hospitality. The pleasure of looking at a printed menu is so important to me when dining out, that I had to make my friends do it during a Zoom dinner. This has been the most screen-mediated, isolated year of our lives. Let's see if there is a way to make familiar social interactions more real and humane, rather than just transactional.
