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How Restaurants Got So Loud (theatlantic.com)
An anonymous reader shares a report: Other sounds that reach 70 decibels include freeway noise, an alarm clock, and a sewing machine. But it's still quiet for a restaurant. Others I visited in Baltimore and New York City while researching this story were even louder: 80 decibels in a dimly lit wine bar at dinnertime; 86 decibels at a high-end food court during brunch; 90 decibels at a brewpub in a rehabbed fire station during Friday happy hour. Restaurants are so loud because architects don't design them to be quiet. Much of this shift in design boils down to changing conceptions of what makes a space seem upscale or luxurious, as well as evolving trends in food service. Right now, high-end surfaces connote luxury, such as the slate and wood of restaurants including The Osprey in Brooklyn or Atomix in Manhattan.
This trend is not limited to New York. According to Architectural Digest, mid-century modern and minimalism are both here to stay. That means sparse, modern decor; high, exposed ceilings; and almost no soft goods, such as curtains, upholstery, or carpets. These design features are a feast for the eyes, but a nightmare for the ears. No soft goods and tall ceilings mean nothing is absorbing sound energy, and a room full of hard surfaces serves as a big sonic mirror, reflecting sound around the room. The result is a loud space that renders speech unintelligible. Now that it's so commonplace, the din of a loud restaurant is unavoidable. That's bad for your health -- and worse for the staff who works there. But it also degrades the thing that eating out is meant to culture: a shared social experience that rejuvenates, rather than harms, its participants.
This trend is not limited to New York. According to Architectural Digest, mid-century modern and minimalism are both here to stay. That means sparse, modern decor; high, exposed ceilings; and almost no soft goods, such as curtains, upholstery, or carpets. These design features are a feast for the eyes, but a nightmare for the ears. No soft goods and tall ceilings mean nothing is absorbing sound energy, and a room full of hard surfaces serves as a big sonic mirror, reflecting sound around the room. The result is a loud space that renders speech unintelligible. Now that it's so commonplace, the din of a loud restaurant is unavoidable. That's bad for your health -- and worse for the staff who works there. But it also degrades the thing that eating out is meant to culture: a shared social experience that rejuvenates, rather than harms, its participants.
Earplugs and text each other across the table.
const int one = 65536; (Silvermoon, Texture.cs)
SJW, n: "Someone I don't like, and by the way I'm a fuckwit" - AC
"Nobody goes there anymore. It's too crowded." -Yogi Berra
What? You just explained that earlier. Memento syndrome?
Look up the word facetious in a dictionary. That's the big book that tells what all the big words mean.
Circle the wagons and fire inward. Entropy increases without bounds.
The takeaway is never hire a designer for a space meant for a practical reason. The designer will be too busy checking brand names and the latest fads to have time to address any actual issues of design. Hire efficiency engineers or similar instead. Tell the inevitable prick who whines about the work environment because he doesn't recognize the brand name of your furniture that you went for mid 20th century brutalist design and he needs to expand his design horizons.
Did you ever find out why the restaurant went out of business?
Olive Garden is cheap, especially on weekdays at lunch.
The breadsticks are great (because they're fucking warm garlic breadsticks) and some of the soups are decent. Fuck salad.
They have a couple of pasta dishes I like, but they're nothing special. But by the time the actual food comes, who cares? You should be 3 baskets of breadsticks deep at that point, asking the server to just grate the cheese into your mouth because you won't be using your arms any more.