I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Yesterday I charged around 30 people $25 per person for their missed reservations.

The phone lit up with in 30 seconds.

People insisting that it wasn’t fair.

You’re right.

It wasn’t fair to not show up for your reservation.

Fun fact.

I can’t reverse the charge.

The only recourse is to contact their credit card.

Today a woman called and I spoke with her.

She had cancelled around 3:30.

She insisted that I definitely had time to fill the slot.

I assured her that was not the case. We’d turned people away all day.

She insisted it wasn’t her fault. It was the cost of doing business.

I said, you’re absolutely right and we are covering some of that cost.

She told me she’d never return if we didn’t reverse the charge and that it was a bad business practice.

I assured her that was her choice but that I would not and could not reverse the charge.

Whoops.

Another man called twelve times tonight wanting to speak with me.

He even left a message at 10:45 tonight.

He cancelled a reservation for six. Then rebooked for 4. How would I know he did that. We held a table for 6. Staffed for a table of 6. Turned people away based on a table for six.

Sorry. Not sorry.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Tonight a server comes to me to tell me of a situation.

A table ordered a bottle of bubbles.

Server gets the bottle. Presents it to the table.

They confirm it’s the bottle they ordered. She opens it and pours.

30 minutes later they call her over to tell her it’s the wrong bottle. The ordered the 375. Not the 750.

Seriously.

You didn’t realize that when she presented it to you.

Seriously.

The bottle you requested is tiny.

I am pissed.

The server is new. She insists it was her fault. She wants to pay.

I assure her I can deal with it but she says no.

But fuck that.

They knew what they were doing.

I’d like to speak to the manager.

We were busy tonight. The 7th most revenue ever.

I answer the phone around 3:45.

It’s a regular looking for a reservation.

I have space. I book them.

Then.

They insist on a specific server.

Hahaha.

I laugh.

The floor plan is mapped out for the night.

They’d have needed to call two weeks ago to get that.

They are not happy.

I don’t apologize but explain it’s too late in the day to remedy it.

They arrive.

And are seated.

And they are assholes to their server.

There is nothing worse than approaching a table knowing that you were not their first choice.

They were a pain from start to finish.

That is all.

Tonight around 5:45 I answer the phone.

It’s a woman who responds to my greeting with: hi. We are the smiths. We have a reservation for 5 at 6:30 for 5 but we are really going to be 6.

I thank her for calling but say, I’m sorry but can’t accommodate a party of 6 at 6:30.

She can’t comprehend this.

I explain that we moved over 100 people inside because the patio was closed.

She insists we have to accommodate them. M
I explain that we don’t have a table for 6 at 6:30.

She insists I have too because they live on Marshall Point Road and come all the time.

I apologize but tell her it’s not possible.

3 seconds later and I talking to her husband.

We live on Marshall Pount Road, come all the time and you MUST accommodate us.

I apologize again. Explain that the patio is closed. There’s nothing I can do.

He is having none if that.

He says he’ll call back later to see if there’s a cancellation.

I assure him there won’t be.

He hangs up on me.

6:30 comes and goes and they don’t show.

Motherfucker!

I ended up trying to charge them but there credit card is out of date.

Motherfucker!

This is a long post.

With lots of fun twists and turns.

Last year the largest reservation we’d take was 12.

I spent the summer saying no to 13,14,15 tops.

Over the winter, chef came up with a family style menu we could use for large parties. It would make it easier for the kitchen and and a great experience for the guests.

Tonight we had our first large party reservation.

14 people. At 8:00.

They arrive. They are seated.

14 seconds later the server appears to let me know they’ve moved the tables together.

Fuck.

The area they are sitting in has four large farm tables that we do not move.

Ever.

Ever.

Because.

When they are pulled together the servers can’t serve the middle of the table.

They are stupidly heavy and were stupidly expensive to buy as they were crafted by a friend of chefs.

I march into the area.

They are still arranging chairs.

They are loud and boisterous.

I say hello. No one on pays attention.

Eventually, I clap my hands and raise my voice.

I say, we do not move the tables. Ever. We discussed this when the reservation was made.

They’ve stopped talking. They are looking at me like I’m stupid.

Why not?

Because I said do.

Why.

Because they are heavy. They cost thousands of dollars. Because the server can’t get to the middle of the table.

Someone asks if it’s because it’s a fire hazard.

I say yes. That two.

The a woman looks at me and says, well what do you want us to do?

I say put them back.

The same woman looks me in the eye and says, you mean you want us to put them back.

Yes. Yes. Yes. I fucking want up you to do the heavy lifting.

They move the tables.

I leave.

I feel guilty for being brusque.

I make a point to ignore them.

Their meal goes off without a hitch. Except they thought family style meant they could order off the menu.

Meanwhile.

I’m at the host stand around 9:15 when a man and woman enter the lobby. He goes to the restroom. I talk to his girl friend.

I ask her how her meal was.

She says amazing. She launches into how great the restaurant is. Her boyfriend is here for the first time.

We chat for a few.

At one point after her boyfriend joins us, she says that she was impressed by how I handled the big table.

They were seated at a 2 top next to it.

Her boyfriend says it’s the epitome of privileged.

She says that how I handled the table was perfect.

I thank them and tell them I was worried I was abrupt.

They both assure me that I was perfect.

It was great. Dinner and a show.

We continue chatting.

In the course of the conversation she mentions that she lives in Portland.

I mention that I moved here 10 years ago yesterday.

She lives on Munjoy Hill. Her family has been here for ever. I tell her my best friends who got me to live here lives on Lafayette street.

The conversation continues.

At some point I mention the our best friends Michelle and Lisa….

She stops me.

She says Lisa and Michelle? I know Lisa and Michelle Morgan. I know LK Weiss. I know Sheila and Julia Kirby.

What the fuck.

We both scream.

She literally knows our entire friend group.

She’s even having dinner with our friend LK on Monday.

She’s even seen all of their shows.

I tell her to tell everyone that I said hello.

Meanwhile. The 14 top is moving along.

Around 10:45 one of them comes into the dining room to use the restroom. She asks if they are keeping us.

I assure her they are fine.

When she comes back, I follow her to the table.

I step up the two steps.

I apologize for being abrupt. They don’t know what I’m talking about.

I tell them they are our first large party reservation.

I thank them. Tell them how grateful we are. And I ask them how the meal was.

It was perfect.

I ask if it was enough food.

They hold up their to go bags.

One of the women is hugging me and loving everything.

I finish.

I join chef back at the chefs table.

40 minutes later they start to leave.

The next thing I know all of the women are hugging me telling me how great the experience was, the staff was.

I invite them back to sit on the patio.

They leave.

It’s a late night.

But they left late.

I made a new friend.

Life was good.

Today started just like every other day.

Staff arrived at 4:00.

Pre-shift at 4:30.

Doors opened at 4:50.

We opened early so we can seat more people at 5:00. Tonight all of our 5:00’s were sat by 4:55.

At 5:05 I answer the phone. It’s a guy who’s concerned that he can’t find our menu online. Then he has questions. About the cuisine. The prices. Reservations.

About 90 seconds into this phone the chef arrives at my side. He needs me for something.

Usually at this time if he needs something it’s a friend wanting a reservation.

I hand the phone to the lead host.

Chef says, there’s a car in the parking lot. The engine is running. The driver is passed out at the wheel.

One of our line cooks discovered this when he went out to smoke before service started.

I head to the larking lot. Take out my phone. I approach the car. I can see the driver is slumped over.

Chef hangs back with a couple of employees.

I knock on the window.

No response.

I knock again.

No response.

I call 911.

They answer.

I choose my words carefully. I don’t want to create a scenario that may not be true.

I tell the operator that I have a car running in the parking lot. The driver is slumped over. I don’t know if it’s a medical emergency, drugs or alcohol.

He asks a lot of questions.

I answer.

At some point I send chef in to cook. They can live without me. Chef needs to cook.

Eventually, the police officer patches through to our town.

Not long after the police arrive.

He asks if I’ve knocked.

I have.

He asks if the door is locked.

I explain I didn’t try it. I say, in todays times I’m not going to open the door, I have no idea what the result will be.

He knocks. No answer.

He opens the door.

The kid wakes up. He’s mid 20’s.

They talk. I can’t hear.

It’s starting to rain again.

He’s talking to him when the paramedics arrive.

Eventually they take him into the back of the ambulance.

I approach the police officer. He says he doesn’t appear high or drunk but he is out if it.

At this point, I say I have to get back inside.

It’s close to 5:45.

I leave.

The cop eventually checks in. They are taking the guy to the hospital to be checked out. They are leaving the car.

That’s where it was left.

I hope it was just a medical situation. I hope he didn’t break any laws and I hope he doesn’t get into trouble.

Serving edition.

Memorial Day weekend in NYC is Fleet Week. Ships from all over the world descend on the city for the weekend.

It’s way too much drinking.

Way to many less than 10% tips.

Way too many people saying you should be nice they don’t get paid much.

To many rowdy assholes.

I’m so glad I don’t experience that anymore.

A year ago when I started we were taking credit cards for reservations. We stopped as it got busier as it adds time to the transaction.

Chef started doing this because we were having no shows.

Tonight we set a record.

1 no show.

But.

From 4:00 until close we had 14 parties cancel. 44 people.

That’s a server I didn’t need. That’s 14 parties my staff thought they’d get but didn’t.

That’s also people we said no to because we started the evening close to capacity.

Most of these guests entered a credit card when they made the reservation.

Tomorrow I’m going to charge them. $25 per person.

$1,100 dollars for us.

We don’t see the money. It’s applied to our bill.

But it’s going to bring me great joy to hit the charge button tomorrow.

Great joy.

Today I was checking reviews. I prefer to do this over a Google alert.

We got the following review this week on Trip Advisor.

This restaurant seems to have new management. We received many texts to confirm an early (bar seating) dinner. Lots of hovering oversight upon arrival and appointed seating at the bar. Gone are the days of selecting your own seats at the bar! Also gone is the delicious chicken parm entree. This has become an extremely over priced restaurant. I appreciate that meat prices are going up everywhere but $51 dollars for a filet in this town is too much for this local. Dave has always been a pleasure behind the bar. Great drinks. Great service.

Hmmm

Let’s deconstruct this.

First. We don’t text you. The app does. You can opt out. Many people do. Most people love the feature. And you can text us back if you’re running late, have a question etc

I’m not sure what hovering oversight is except maybe we sat them where we wanted them, not where they wanted to be. Doesn’t every restaurant do this?

Yes, you don’t get to seat yourself at the bar. Weren’t you glad wnen you got here for your reservation and you knew you had a spot.

I’ve been at the restaurant for a year. We haven’t had chicken parm since before I started. I think it’s actually been close to two years.

Two points to be made next.

If we don’t raise our prices we don’t stay in business. We’d love to keep them the same but if we do we won’t be able to pay our expenses.

Second our filet doesn’t cost $51. It’s $58. You’ll be super surprised when you check your receipt.

You are right. Dave is great.

As for being a local.

We’ve been taking reservations at the bar since COVID. So almost two years.

No chicken parm for just as long.

We’ve been using Resy for a year and a half.

So the truth is you come every two years.

So you aren’t really our target local. We are catering to the people that have standing reservations. Who come four or five times a month. Some even once a week. Some two or three times a week.

We know we are expensive. The nature of the restaurant requires we be expensive. The option would be to serve choice meat. On a gas grill. And you wouldn’t enjoy it as much.

We’ll keep doing what we do.

We’ll see you Memorial Day weekend 2024.

There was a shooting this week.

Which brings me to tonight’s post.

I have a friend who works in California who terminated a difficult employee this week. We chat on the phone often.

She tells me the stories.

I worry that I’m going to get a message that he showed up at her restaurant.

Meanwhile.

Every night I tell my staff that they HAVE to check out with me when they are done.

Ultimately it’s so I know who us in the building.

Because I don’t want to get the shit scared out of me when I thin I’m alone.

But ultimately and I’ve never shared this with anyone but just in case something unspeakable happens.

Who is in the building.

Where are the exits.

Where do we meet? What do we do?

I go there.

Even when I think I might be crazy.

But.

Am.

I?