The table
Everywhere else, a table minimum is a number you agree to and find out the shape of at two in the morning. On Strobe you fill it in before you book, from the venue’s own list, at the venue’s own prices.
The pivot
A cart, not a floor.
A minimum spend is the amount your table commits to spending. Normally that is all you are told. Here you pick what it is made of at checkout: the bottles, the mixers, whatever the room actually sells. The total has to clear the minimum, and the shortfall is shown in figures rather than implied, so nobody agrees to €2,000 and discovers what €2,000 buys after they have arrived.
Filling a bigger cart never raises your deposit. The deposit is a percentage of the minimum and nothing else, because charging more to the table that spent more would punish exactly the behaviour everyone wants.
During the night
The tab is open, and it is on your phone.
What has been ordered, what state each round is in, what the table has spent and what your own part of it is. No asking, no waiting for a bill you cannot read in the dark.
Who can order
Anyone at the table. Not just whoever booked it.
The person who made the booking has exactly one privilege, and it is a liability rather than a power: anything nobody else has covered by the end of the night falls to them. Everything else is open to the whole table. Any of you can order a round, pay for someone else’s, take a bottle entirely onto yourself, or hand it back to the group, and change your mind about any of it until the night closes out.
Someone who was invited and has no account can still buy the table a bottle. That is the point of them being on it.
How it reaches you
To a named server. Never to the bar.
Every order routes to a specific person on the floor, who accepts it before anything is made. An order that belongs to nobody in particular is a queue at the bar with extra steps, which is the thing table service exists to avoid. The venue’s own screen prints an unassigned order in warning colour for exactly that reason.
A server can refuse an order, and when they do you get one neutral sentence and no reason. Age and refused service read identically on purpose: a different message for each would broadcast a judgement about somebody to everyone holding a phone at that table.
Paying for it
One charge each, at the end. Not one per drink.
Everything you have taken on during the night settles as a single payment when the table closes, rather than a card charge every time somebody wants a Coke. Six people ordering forty rounds is six payments.
And the bill itself still closes at the venue, on the venue’s own till, exactly as it does today. Strobe takes the deposit up front; the room takes the rest and issues the receipt, because in Italy it has to.
From the venue’s side
The same object, from behind the bar.
The room keeps its own list: categories, prices, what is alcoholic, what is out tonight. Prices are editable by managers and owners only, because a price is a commercial term rather than a setting. The live queue shows every order, its state and the server it belongs to, and says so plainly when it has lost its connection instead of showing a list that quietly stopped moving.