I’m pissed off. As you read on, you’ll find out that I’m not the only one. When the hell did restaurants decide they were nightclubs at all hours of the day or night? All I wanted was a seat, a meal, and a chance to get a little work done. You know, the basics. A Monday afternoon—nothing fancy. Just me, my laptop, and the faint hope of completing what I had started the previous day at the library. What did I get instead? A full-blown sonic assault. It felt like I had walked into Club Chicken Wrap, featuring DJ Ear Bleed—not a sit-down restaurant with booths, pub food, and coffee refills. The music wasn’t background ambiance. It was front and center, crashing down from overhead speakers like a tidal wave of bass.
I’m not the only one who’s noticed this on more than one occasion. Many customers have complained about the loud music in this establishment, but it’s fallen on deaf ears (pun intended). It’s not just work-from-anywhere folks like me who are trying to focus—it’s couples, seniors, families, people just trying to, you know, talk. You can see it on their faces as they lean in and raise their voices just to be heard. When the server comes to ask a question, my default reply now—often even if I did hear them—is, “Sorry, I can’t understand what you’re saying. The music’s too loud.”
Because it is, it doesn’t matter where you sit. The bar? Blasting. The back corner? Blasting. On the other side? Blasting. On the patio? Blasting. It’s inescapable. What’s the obsession here? Is someone under the impression that loud equals cool? That thundering music over lunch will make the place trendier and bring more business? It doesn’t. It pisses people off.
It makes it harder to enjoy the food, harder to talk, and way harder to relax. What it also does is have the servers practically yell to each other so they can be heard above whatever some rapper is bitching about now. And it turns what could have been a peaceful work session or a family of four having a meal out of the house into an exercise in sensory endurance. Now, to be fair, a little music is great. A thoughtful playlist playing at a respectful volume? Love it. But when the music is so overpowering that it becomes the experience itself, rather than enhancing it? That’s a problem. Here’s a wild idea, management: why not ask your customers what they think? I mean, really ask. A short survey, a simple table card, even just a “Hey, how’s the volume today?” from your servers. You might be surprised by what you hear—assuming the customers can hear you over the beat.
People don’t come to restaurants to hear Alanis Morissette complain about how unfair life is; they come for food, connection, and a break from the day. And if they have to shout to order a sandwich or repeat themselves three times over a salad, they might just stop coming altogether. I support local. I eat out more than I should. And I understand —ambiance matters. But maybe it’s time to recognize that too much ambiance becomes noise. Maybe it’s also time to realize that quiet is also ambience. So, to the restaurant managers of the world—especially those running day shifts with half-empty dining rooms—lower the damn volume! Let people talk, think, read, work, relax. You’re not hosting a stadium concert with seventy thousand fans. You’re serving grilled cheese and iced tea.
And to my fellow laptop nomads? I feel your pain. Let’s start a quiet revolution—one booth at a time.
John Berkovich Talks 