The Homestead — Restaurant in San Francisco

When it was time to close, instead of coming to us and saying “Sorry to interrupt but we are closing guys. Have a good night!” , the waiter came and said “I think it’s time for you guys to leave!”. I don’t know about others but to me, even though while being drunk ( means I am more easy going and do not care much about details or bad situations like normally), that came off kinda like a rude way to say it.

When I paid my check, the waitress looked at the bill and asked bluntly “Oh, so you don’t tip?”. I wouldnt mind tipping but I was kinda drunk and was trying to sign it fast since the waiter was hushing us out the door quickly. Also, who asks their customers that ? Even if I hadnt wanted to tip, it shouldn’t have been a problem for her to ask me like that in such a rude way while giving me a dirty look. Tip is earned, not given.

Then again, I had to go to the bathroom so my husband is waiting for me at the door while finishing his drink. The waiter came and told him that he would have to step outside. He was upset by the attitude, too. There were other people still in the bar drinking and laughing so I didnt why with the desperate hush-hush. My husband couldnt finish his drink and was kicked outside to wait for me in the...

I am not sure why it took me so long to come here, but now that I have, I will definitely be back. I met friends who were in from out of town here last week on a Friday after work and the place was slam packed. I was about to order a beer on tap to make it easy on the bartender and to ensure a quicker drink, but when I saw my friends being presented with this amazing margarita looking cocktail and then tasting it's heavenly booziness, I knew I had to have it. If you don't mind wading through a sea of bodies (which is pretty much every bar on a Friday afternoon in SF) then I would recommend going on a slower week night. Regardless, the service was great and the bartenders were smiling and laughing through the...

Cool bar with cool cocktails and cool people. Adorning one of the tables was a real live pekingese dog. We made eye contact from across the bar and I approached, timidly. My dry spell had been approaching several weeks, and this pup was giving me the eyes. I offered to buy her one of the fantastic cocktails this bar has, or perhaps a more understated local brew, but it turned out that not only was this dog a first generation pekingese, and therefore didn't speak english particularly well, but also was there with another human couple. I didn't appreciate the deception, but I still enjoyed the bar. I still have not busted my dog...