Honestly why do I do this to myself

When you wait tables, you're really subjected to all sorts of people. People who ask the real questions. People who are at their intellectual peak and know what they want out of life. And all of them leave that at the door of every restaurant they enter, so I get questions like this:

"What's the difference between the lobster roll and the double-size lobster roll?"

"Are the oysters in the oyster taco cooked?"

"Are the clams from the raw bar raw?"

"Are the baked oysters cooked?"

I appreciate tables that know how they want their meal ordered and clearly tell me how and when they want their food.

"We'd like the calamari and a dozen oysters and a stuffed clam and the shrimp appetizer."
"Okay, is there any order you'd like that in?"
"As it comes out."
"Well, I have to tell the kitchen what order I want, otherwise it will all come out at the same time. So do you have a preference?"
"As it comes out."

And sometimes I get serve people that defy all expectations that I have for them, and really get me to question the tenuous grasp I have on my understanding of humanity.

"I was here the other day and I had this wonderful stuffed clam, it was about $8, about this big..."
I point to it on the menu. "This?"
"Yes, that!"
"So would you like one?"
"No."


Allergies
AKA It's My Job To Keep You From Dying Please Don't Make It Difficult Or I Might Cry

It says on our menu, and most other menus that I have ever encountered, that you need to tell your server if someone in your party has an allergy of any kind. And, of course, as individuals concerned about their health, people always comply, which is why I never have to deal with scenarios like this:

"We'll have two orders of mussels."
Ten minutes after ordering the mussels, which are served swimming in gluten sauce, the same person who ordered flags me down.
"Oh, I should tell you that I have a gluten allergy."
Okay guess it's time for me to panic and run to tell the kitchen that your appetizer they've already started cooking can't be served.

A separate table orders a bunch of appetizers. After they've been served, I come by to check on them and someone asks me,
"Does this have gluten in it?"
Yes. Yes it does have gluten.
They order their entrees and the same person asks for ceasar, minus the croutons so I have to ask. Do you have a gluten allergy?
"Yeah, I do."
Their life flashes before my eyes as I try to contain my rage and utter confusion over why they waited until now to tell me and imagine all the things crashing and burning in the not-so-distant world where they accidentally ate gluten because of something I served and everybody dying because of it.

And then there's the people who just don't seem to give a crap.

"I have a gluten allergy."
Okay, so I'll make sure to tell the kitchen. Thank you for telling me.
"My wife will have the crab cake, and I'll take this gluten free appetizer, please."
Sure thing. You got it.
Here you go, here's the crab cake and this separate gluten free dish guaranteed to not make you sick.
And then I watch in horror as the wife hands her allergic spouse her crab cake and he begins eating it.
Sir...sir, you know that has gluten in it, right?
"Yeah, it's fine."
I faint away on the spot, horrified such nonchalance in the face of easily avoidable danger.