I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

A woman called today to make a reservation for 14 people.

I told he that if she emailed me the details I’d send her our menu, and availability.

She protested saying that her diners are too diverse.

I say that unfortunately we would only take the reservation if they order off the family style menu.

She insist that wouldn’t work. Perhaps we could do an 8 and a 6. I explain that unfortunately we couldn’t do that.

She continues to protest.

I continue to insist we can’t do it.

She continues.

This time I say, Im terribly sorry but we can’t accommodate you and hung up.

The phone immediately rings again.

I answer.

She tells me that I am rude and says, and I quote, I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I say okay.

Put the phone on mute count to 20, unmute the phone and say, hello this is Jeff how may I help you?

She launches into how rude the host she spoke to was.

I listen.

She insists I make the two reservations.

So I tell her I can do the 8 at 8:00.

I can do the 6:00 and 5:30.

She books the 8.

And hangs up.

I’ll never understand why so many people can’t understand the word no.

It’s our restaurant. Our rules. We don’t do these things to turn away business.

As we learned on Monday.

They’ll arrive as 2 parties then insist they sit together.

The answer is always no.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

As I mentioned last night, yesterday was kids night.

Around 7:00 a server comes to me saying that their table has requested a paper plate and a sippy cup with a straw for their toddler.

I laugh and laugh. We are ver explicit about not having a kids menu.

About not having high chairs.

About not having booster seats.

No one seems to think we are serious.

They show up with four kids under the age of six and are upset when we have none of those things.

I’m never sure what to say.

Around 9:30 tonight I was sitting at the chef’s table chatting with the chef when a chocolate soufflé was put in front of me. At the same time a server walked up with their end of night report. She asked what the occasion for the dessert was and the chef said ,”oh it’s his birthday”. She immediately announced that it was my birthday and begins to sing. 2 seconds later everyone in the bar and all the staff is singing happy birthday to me. While the chef laughed and laughed and laughed. I’m still not sure the staff knows it was NOT my birthday. It was delicious by the way!

This is a story from a year ago. My first difficult guest at my new job. I posted this on Facebook a year ago.

Tonight a woman sent her steak back insisting that she ordered a ribeye not the steak she was given. She was apologized to and we got her a ribeye. As it was a recook I ran it to the table. When I got there I started to set it down and her husband began to complain that he was finished and SHE turns to me and says this IS going to be comped. Right? And I immediately had flashbacks to 1987 working in Atlanta when guests would tell us to get a comp form as they weren’t paying. So I looked at the woman and said of course it was not being comped. She looked shocked. And I said okay and walked a way with her steak still in my hand. The server was convinced the whole thing was a scam and that she never preferred a ribeye in the first place. Meanwhile: if you go to Macy’s and get pants and they don’t fit you take them back. But you don’t get them for free.

Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale. A tale of a fateful night.

Dear Readers: This is going to be a long but very true account of my evening tonight.

We were quiet tonight. I don’t know if it was the rain during the day, whether people are coming next weekend, if something else was going on, but we were very, very quiet.

We’d also closed the patio because the forecast predicted rain until around 8:00 tonight, which never happens when I close the patio the day before. I do this every year early on, learn my lesson and don’t do it again.

It is also my Friday. The sixth day of a very long week. I have one foot out the door for the weekend already. I’m ready for 24 hours off. I can’t wait.

The night begins and the first thing of note was that it was kid’s night. At 6:00 there were 17 children under the age of 6 in the dining room. There were also way too many babies. We own 2 high chairs and we post that we don’t have any. Everyone was angry because we didn’t have one for their children.

The rest of the evening was quite boring to be sure. There is nothing wrong with these nights. Everyone going about their business. No recooks. No service issues. Just a mundane quiet night. I’d actually commented to my host Megan that it was too easy of a night.

It was like when the sky becomes quiet just before a storm. A tornado of a storm. It’s just a little too quiet for its own good.

We had a VIP table in tonight sitting at the chef’s table. Turns out I knew one of the people at the table. I was also checking in with them to make sure they were enjoying themselves. I was standing at the table chatting when the host taps me on the shoulder.

She says, “I have a host emergency.”

I chuckle, thinking it’s a person who doesn’t have a reservation, who thinks they do, and we’ll have to fix it.

I was very wrong.

She pulls me aside and says there are 12 people in the lobby waiting to be sat. They do not have a reservation for 12. They instead made 3 reservations for 4 people. They are now insisting they be seated together.

I get to the lobby and a man approaches me.

He is irate, but trying to be calm. He’s insisting that we find a way to seat the 12 of them together. I explain that this can’t happen.

He tells me he’s gone in to the restaurant and there are tables they can sit next to each other.

I explain that this can’t happen and that if they wanted a reservation for 12 people they should have called the restaurant and let us know.

He explains that they did this but decided that the special menu we use for large parties was too expensive for them.

I say that I’m sorry, but there is no way that they can sit together. He now gets irate, and continues to protest.

I go to the I-pad. He’s still talking at me.

I decide I’m done. He played the system, thinking he’d get what he wanted and he was caught.

I moved their reservations around seating them as far apart from each as I could. Maybe not something I’m proud of but he was pissing me off.

The hosts seat the other people who are waiting, as it’s 7:00, and then begins to seat the 3 four tops.

I’m watching all of this from the wait station.

She seats the last table, and I walk away. Thinking this is all behind me.

How foolish I was.

The host comes and finds me to let me know he wants to see me, and that he has asked table 23 to move to another table so that he and his friends can sit together.

I’m really annoyed now. Bordering on angry.

He approaches me, pointing to two tables that have now become empty and says, we can pull those two tables together and 6 of us can sit with each other.

I explain that we have reservations on those tables. He continues to try and convince me.

I say once again that this is not happening. The tables are reserved, it is mapped out and it’s not going to change.

Truth be told, it would have screwed one server who would have lost a table all together, AND we NEVER pull tables together in the Main Dining Room. NEVER. We have lots of places to seat large parties and we restrict them to those areas.

He gets seriously visibly angry at me and says we are about to spend $1,000 here and we should be treated better.

I laugh, and say not likely with six kids, but okay, you are still not sitting together.

He storms off.

They sit.

4 adults at one table.

2 adults and 2 kids at another table.

And 4 kids at another table.

The first thing we did was remove the lamp from the table with the kids as they are playing with it.

Each table has a different server. Things are moving along. I say to the host, I can’t wait to see how this plays out when they leave.

Every night at the end of the night, I grab my laptop and take a seat at the chef’s table. I can catch up on emails that came in during service, often to request a large party reservation. I also, sit there to do tips, and chat with guests and staff as the evening ends.

I am sitting at one table. Chef and his son are seated at the other table eating dinner.

I’m engrossed in an email, when I’m slapped on the back and I look up startled as a man slams three receipts on the table loudly screaming at me, “We told you we were going to spend a 1,000 dollars tonight.”

I was startled. And then I was pissed.

I look at him and think to myself what the fuck and he repeats himself.

I get up, ignore him, walk into the middle of the dining room where they are all milling about, and raise my voice and say, “ALL OF YOU. OUT. WE ARE DONE HERE. YOU ALL NEED TO GET YOUR THINGS AND GO.”

They protest, and I say it again. THIS IS NOT UP FOR DISCUSSION ALL OF YOU OUT!!!

Now they are angry, but starting to leave.

The leader of the group stops in front of me to tell me all of the ways I’ve fucked up.

I hold my ground. Trying to explain that they played the system and got caught. They booked 3 tables, we delivered on our promise and gave them 3 tables.

He tells me I ruined his 46 birthday. He’s now shouting at me.

I went to my calm place. I remember very early in my life having my mother say to me never lose your temper when you are in a fight. The person who loses their temper loses the fight.

I was calm. But loud.

He’s continuing to shout at me about all the ways I fucked up. All the ways he should have been treated better since he was spending money. All the things.

Around this time he begins to tell me he works for Adidas. I still don’t have any idea why it mattered, but I asked him if he lets his clients make up their own rules and he insists that he does.

Then his wife gets involved telling me she runs a pharmaceutical company. I have no idea why this matters but they aren’t getting any quieter.

Then they ask if I’m the manager. I say yes.

They then ask if the owner is here. I say yes. They ask to see him. I start to say he’s not here, when guess what he’s standing right behind me and HE IS PISSED.

He shouts at them, NO ONE LAYS HANDS ON MY STAFF. YOU NEED TO GO NOW BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE.

In a very thick Argentinian accent.

They continue to shout. He continues to say get out.

He says if they continue he’ll pull up the video, we have lots of cameras, and he’ll make it a legal issue.

They continue.

He then says, FINE. AND GOES INTO THE LOBBY TO CALL THE POLICE

At this point the guy who hit me on the back has left.

But Mr. Adidas is continuing to tell me he works at Adidas. He still telling chef how horribly he’s been treated. Chef continues to say he doesn’t care they need to go.

They continue to protest. Telling chef that I laughed when they said they’d spend a $1,000. That I said this is the way it’s going to be.

He is calm now. But not having it.

They say I ruined his birthday.

He says they should have made a reservation for 12. He’s happy that they spent money, but they can’t treat his staff that way.

I have forgotten to mention they keep reminding us that they spent a $1,000. Lots of people spend that much money in my restaurant without being a dick.

Everyone but the man and woman leave.

They continue.

They start to leave, chef turns to leave and I turn to follow and I might have rolled my eyes.

And the wife screams at me, in her French Canadian accent (did I mention that yet), DON’T DO THAT WITH YOUR FACE. DON’T DO THAT WITH YOUR EYES.

The husband joins in.

DON’T DO THAT WITH YOUR EYES. YOUR FACE.

The next five minutes is them telling me all the ways they are good at their pharmaceutical and Adidas jobs and all the ways I’m bad at my job.

At one point I look at them and say, I’m very good at my job.

They laugh and continue to yell at me.

Finally they leave as the man screams FUCK YOU at me as he leaves.

Fuck has been their favorite word during this whole exchange.

As I turn to go back to my table, a couple celebrating their anniversary are leaving. I apologize to them. The woman laughs and says she missed the whole thing. Her husband had come back to the table and says you need to see what’s happening in the lobby but it was over by the time she got there.

They leave.

I go into the dining room. I approach table 25.

I apologize.

The woman in seat 3 says, OH NO. I need the TEA!

I look at her and say excuse me?

She says I need the TEA?

I say, do you watch Rupaul’s Drag Race?

She says you know I do.

We then have a moment about Jinx Monsoon.

Then I explain what the whole affair was about.

They are annoyed at the pretension and entitlement.

They actually thought it was because all 6 of their kids were running around being a pain in the ass.

We chat for a bit. 2 of the 4 of them are from San Diego. I mention that I went to school at UCSD. Turns out one of them works at the Geisel Library at UCSD. They are out scouting places so they can move to the East Coast.

I go back to the chef’s table. For the first time in two weeks, I ask the bartender to make me a bourbon drink.

I take a big gulp and get back to my evening.

About 3 minutes later a platter of chicken fingers appears for the staff that is left.

I stick to my bourbon.

When everyone leaves, I look at chef and say thank you for having my back.

He says, I would have had your back even if you were wrong. And

you weren’t.

That’s why I work there friends.

.

That’s why I work there.

We have lots and lots of people come thru our door.

Tonight my host pointed out something I knew but needed reminding of.

Every day people come to the host stand on their way out.

And I engage them.

My favorite question: are you from here or away?

They answer.

But many times they say:

We live in Western Mass, we have a house on The Cape, but we visit twice a year.

If they own a house on The Cape they always manage to work it into the conversation.

Akways.

We are from New Hampshire, we have a house on The Cape but we visit here when we can.

She’s hears it 100 times a day at her day job.

And she’s right. They always say it.

At 7:45 tonight a 8:15 reservation called to cancel.

They let the the host know it was because we were a meat forward restaurant and didn’t have enough vegetarian options.

The host asoured them we had lots of salads and sides that were completely vegetarian.

They ended up canceling the reservation.

They booked three weeks ago.

They didn’t realize we were a steak house until 30 minutes before their reservation.

I charged them $100 for cancelling their reservation.

I can’t wait for the phone call tomorrow.

Today was a perfect summer day.

The patio was hopping.

At 5:30 a couple and their small child approach me at the host stand on the patio.

I say hello. Ask them if they have a reservation.

They give me their name. I find it. It’s for 5:45.

I tell them that I’ll get them seated a little closer to 5:45.

They walk away. Land at the singing sofa/day bed we have.

Three minutes later the husband approaches me to ask if they can have the table next to to the swing. I explain that’s where they are scheduled to go.

He asks if they can be seated.

I say I’ll get them seated a little closer to 5:45.

He says you won’t seat me.

I Will seat you. At 5:45.

So we can sit next to the table but not at the table.

I say yes.

He stares at me.

I hold his gaze.

He stares.

He says are you being serious.

I reply yes.

He glares some more.

He finally walks away.

The back story.

We were short a server on the patio tonight. One of them rolled their ankle.

30 seconds before this family arrived his server was flat sat 3 tables. She was hustling. There was no way to give her a fourth table and not gave service suffer.

The only reason I was on the patio was because I’d realized he wasn’t holding people the way he should.

Yes they could have been sat. But once they are seated the clock starts. They’ll say they’ll be patient. But can they get water while they wait? Can they get a cocktail…while they wait. Which is essentially being waited on.

They didn’t acknowledge me when they left although I energetically said thank you and wished them a good night.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I had a vague voicemail on the machine today.

I called them back.

It’s a woman who is asking questions about a reservation she had earlier in the week.

She doesn’t know the day.

She doesn’t know the time.

Her phone number doesn’t pull up any history.

She does finally say it’s because she was charged for cancelling a reservation. She insists it was cancelled. I explain that with more information I can’t tell her anything.

She says she’ll do some investigating and call back.

She does.

15 minutes later.

She explains that her concierge made the reservation and they cancelled them long before the deadline.

I explain that no in fact they didnot cancelled it.

And we didn’t know it was cancelled until the caller texted us a reply to our text asking if they were coming. Their text says they weren’t in town and needed to cancel. 20 minutes after it was scheduled.

She protests.

I say perhaps she should take this up with her concierge company.

But that she definitely did not cancel.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

We had a guest in tonight who had a garlic allergy.

The question we all asked was is it an allergy. Or is it an aversion.

I have a friend who avoids garlic because it gives her indigestion. She avoids it.

I also know a person who can eat cooked garlic but not raw.

This person insisted that it was an allergy.

He ordered the pork chop insisting he’d gotten it many times before and it was fine.

The chef says bullshit.

The pork chop has been on the menu forever. It’s always been prepared the same. It has garlic.

He refuses to cook the person a pork chop since they are insisting it’s an allergy.

I’m sent to the bar to chat with him.

I ask all the questions.

Allergy. Or aversion.

They insist allergy.

I then ask how severe.

They say very.

I then explain that we won’t be able to cook him a well done New York strip because, we cook many items on the grill that contain garlic and to use The Josper our wood fired oven the steak will be burned beyond recognition to get the middle to well done because the temperature is so high.

He asks if we can pan fry him a steak. I laugh. And explain that one does not Ian fry on an open flame.

I’m not sure he gets it.

He says medium rare is fine.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say he avoids garlic but if he’s eaten our pork chop he certainly is not allergic.