Let’s be honest—restaurants can be fascinating little theaters of human behavior.
You can learn a lot about someone just by watching how they handle themselves between the menu and the check.
Now, this isn’t about judging anyone. Most of us learn our “dining etiquette” from experience, not formal training.
I still remember my first fancy dinner out with Matt, before we were married—I was so nervous I almost poured my own water from the wrong carafe. We all start somewhere.
But certain habits? They tend to reveal how someone grew up—especially whether money and social ease were part of their upbringing.
Here are little things people do in restaurants that quietly (but clearly) signal they didn’t grow up with money.
1) Overcompensating with flash
Ever seen someone order the most expensive bottle of wine on the list without knowing a single thing about it?
That’s usually not confidence—it’s nerves dressed up as flair.
People who didn’t grow up with money often overcompensate when they finally have some.
They want to prove they belong. So they go big—designer labels at brunch, loud boasts about the “aged steak,” or showing off to the waiter.
But those who grew up around money tend to do the opposite. They’re understated. They don’t need to announce it because comfort, not performance, is the goal.
It’s like that old saying my grandmother loved: “Money talks, but wealth whispers.”
True confidence doesn’t need to show off—it orders what it actually wants, not what it hopes will impress.
2) Treating service staff poorly
This one makes my stomach twist. If someone snaps their fingers for a waiter or talks down to the hostess, you’re watching a huge tell unfold.
Growing up without money can sometimes mean growing up without models for how to treat service staff with dignity—and ironically, once some people “make it,” they project their old insecurities onto others.
But people raised around money (and manners) tend to know: everyone deserves respect, no matter their job.
I once watched a man send back his meal three times, each with a sharp tone. He thought it showed standards; really, it showed smallness.
As etiquette expert Diane Gottsman once noted, “How you treat the waitstaff is how you treat people when no one’s watching.”
Kindness doesn’t cost a thing—but it says everything.
3) Making a scene about the bill
You know the type: loud arguments over who’s paying, or dramatic gestures about “covering the whole table.”
Money dynamics can get funny in public settings. When someone insists—too forcefully—on paying, or even worse, loudly complains about prices, it’s often more about emotion than generosity.
People who didn’t grow up with money sometimes carry old scripts about scarcity or status. Maybe they want to prove they’re “doing fine now,” or maybe they still carry anxiety around the check. Either way, it shows.
Those who are comfortable—financially and emotionally—handle the bill discreetly. They either take care of it quietly or split it with grace. No speeches, no side-eye, no fuss.
Because real class is calm, not performative.
4) Treating dining like a transaction, not an experience
When money was tight growing up, eating out was a treat—a splurge. So it makes sense that some people approach restaurants with a “get your money’s worth” mentality.
They want the biggest portions, endless refills, the extra breadbasket. And who can blame them? When you’re used to stretching every dollar, that instinct runs deep.
But there’s a subtle difference between enjoying value and squeezing every drop out of it.
People who didn’t grow up with money sometimes rush through the meal, order strategically to “maximize,” or treat the staff like vending machines.
Meanwhile, those who grew up around wealth see dining as an experience, not a transaction. They linger. They talk between courses.
They appreciate the plating, the pacing, the effort.
It’s not about wasting money—it’s about understanding that time, conversation, and atmosphere are part of what you’re paying for.
5) Acting intimidated—or overfamiliar—with staff
I remember my first time at a white-tablecloth restaurant. I was twenty-two, sitting across from Matt in a dress that still had its tag tucked in.
The waiter described the specials in this lilting French accent, and I nodded like I understood every word. (Spoiler: I did not.)
People who didn’t grow up with money often feel unsure about “the rules” in upscale places.
They either shrink back—avoiding eye contact, mumbling orders—or they go too far the other way, cracking jokes or using the waiter’s first name like they’re lifelong friends.
Neither extreme feels natural. It’s just someone trying to find their footing in an environment that still feels foreign.
Grace, I’ve learned, comes from observation and empathy. Watch how regulars engage: friendly, respectful, unforced.
As Vanna Bonta once said, “There is no hospitality like understanding.”
Confidence isn’t loud—it’s kind.
6) Misunderstanding the “quiet codes”
There’s an unspoken rhythm to restaurants that people who grew up with money tend to absorb early on. It’s not about fancy etiquette—it’s about awareness.
Things like:
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Not waving your arm to get attention (eye contact works better).
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Knowing the fork-and-knife “rest” position so servers know you’re still eating.
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Not stacking plates when you’re done (it seems helpful, but it’s not).
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Keeping voices low so others can enjoy their meal too.
When someone ignores these little codes—talking over the entire dining room, clinking glasses too loudly, interrupting the waiter mid-sentence—it stands out.
But again, it’s not a moral failing. Most of us simply weren’t taught these nuances. They’re absorbed by exposure, not income brackets.
The good news? They can be learned. Awareness costs nothing—and it adds a lot of ease.
7) Treating the restaurant like a stage
There’s something tender about watching someone trying too hard to “belong.”
Ordering things they don’t actually want because they sound expensive. Loudly recounting their latest trip. Taking photos of every dish, every sip, every bite.
I’ve been guilty of a version of this myself—snapping photos of a beautifully plated meal for Instagram, trying to freeze a perfect moment.
But somewhere between Ellie dropping her fork under the table and Milo sneaking a lemon slice into his water, I realized the real richness was in being there, not proving it happened.
People who didn’t grow up with money sometimes feel like they have to “perform” their success, because deep down, they still don’t feel at ease in spaces that once felt off-limits.
But you can always tell who’s genuinely comfortable—they’re present. Their phones stay down. Their laughter is easy. They’re there for the company, not the optics.
As Maya Angelou famously said, “People will forget what you said, they’ll forget what you did, but they’ll never forget how you made them feel.”
The same goes for dining: it’s not about what’s on your plate, but how you make others feel while you share it.
Final thoughts
If you’ve recognized yourself in a few of these, you’re not alone. Money doesn’t teach grace—experience does. And experience comes from showing up, fumbling through, and learning as you go.
When Matt and I take our kids out now (usually someplace where crayons come with the menus), I try to remember what actually matters. Saying “please” to the waiter.
Making eye contact with the busser. Thanking the cook on the way out if it’s that kind of place.
Teaching Ellie to wait before digging in, and letting Milo help pay the bill, even if it’s just handing over a dollar.
Those little gestures—that quiet confidence, that shared respect—are what make you feel rich inside, no matter what your bank account says.
Next time you’re in a restaurant, watch the subtleties. Notice how comfort looks a lot like kindness. And remember: true wealth isn’t loud, it’s gracious.
