New York City’s dining scene is filled with nuisances — some due to sloppy management, others to penny-pinching to offset skyrocketing rent, labor and food costs. Here are the worst I’ve encountered lately.

Although open nearly a month, Omar at Vaucluse’s site has yet to show us a menu — but it’s full of random photos of Andy Warhol and Lee Radziwill. (The separate Vaucluse site features the menu in a pop-up window.) The “official Web site” for snooty Le Bilboquet shows nothing except the words “Leave us a note!” And patrons who line up on the sidewalk for Bushwick’s Sichuan hit General Deb’s (no reservations) deserve to know what they’ll be eating — which they won’t from another menuless site.

I’ve long complained about restaurants charging for bread, but there’s a new twist gaining traction: no bread at all. I first saw it at barbecue joint Pig Bleecker last year. Now it’s the policy at casual-American Henry at Life Hotel. Owner Stephen Hanson explained it’s an “expense” issue. He said he’d have to charge customers for high-quality bread, and, “if you don’t put out great bread, don’t bother.”

But I’ll take a slice of processed supermarket white when I’m hungry.

Natural wine lovers are cultish in their enthusiasm for funky vinos made without additives or filtration, but they’re not for everyone.

At the new Frenchette in Tribeca, wine director Jorge Riera is proud that the hundreds of bottles on offer are all natural, but such a classically modeled bistro needs more options. Those who prefer what “natural” proponents deplore as “industrial wine” — i.e., the kind most of us have loved all our lives — are left thirsty.

Soho’s Buzzy La Mercerie is housed in a home-goods store, but its wine glasses don’t cut it. They’re only 10 ounces, and a glass needs to be at least 12 ounces — and preferably closer to 16, for many wines — to let the stuff aerate and provide a “nose,” an integral part of the tasting experience.

The 12-ounce “universal short-stem” glasses at Frenchette are still too puny for my taste, as are the near-thimbles at Midtown’s Whitby Hotel restaurant.

The good news is that La Mercerie says its “collection has grown” since I was there a few weeks ago, and that proper Bordeaux glasses are on order. Let others follow.

At the Lobster Club on East 53rd Street, the menu sternly states that “all items are intended to be shared” — but sharing a whole teppanyaki lobster amongst four people is messy and awkward. At their prices, I want my own food.

The waitstaff at the otherwise very proper Flora Bar (pictured) in the Met Breuer also pushes sharing, despite the fact that their intricately plated dishes aren’t suited to it.

Let everyone order what they like and leave the “share” frenzy to more casual, downtown restaurants.

Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s reopened JoJo, on East 64th Street, is splendid — unless you search the menu for a cheese plate instead of dessert. Merde! There’s no fromage in a French restaurant?

Jean-Georges Management president Lois Freedman said JoJo’s has a smaller menu than most of JVG’s other places but can “easily create a cheese plate upon request.” Unfortunately, the waitress’s comment that “We can put one together,” sounded halfhearted — not what a diabetic like myself, or other sugar-shunners, want to hear.

Nighttime restaurant employees want to get out earlier than they once did. In Manhattan especially, many can no longer afford to live close to where they work, so they rush us through meals (“Would you like to order now?” before we open the menus) in the hopes of getting home to Bay Ridge or West New York, NJ, by a reasonable hour.

It’s even happening at Union Square Cafe. Our up-to-that-point excellent waiter plopped the bill on the table while we were eating dessert and advised us, “Absolutely no rush” — a line that only sounded like, “Please hurry,” and which I’ve heard recently at both posh (Majorelle) and more moderately priced (Mr White) places.

Until restaurant employees make a lot more money than they do — or until housing becomes more affordable — we’re in for many more rushed nights out.