I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

We had a couple at the bar tonight that were a bit much. 

You could tell by the way he took over three seats who they were. 

They scolded the bartender when she cleared their silver between courses because they were enviro people. 

I saw them get up at the end of the meal and thanked them for coming in. 

Imagine my surprise when I was standing at the wait station and the woman popped up beside me.  Straight out of some weird movie edited to scare you. 

She says, are you the manager?

I say that I am. 

She says, I just wanted to let you know that the food here is amazing.

I thank her…she continues.

But I did feel neglected by the service. 

Uh. Oh.  Here we go. 

She continues, that she felt like they didn’t get the attention that they needed. 

I thank her for the comment and say that I will speak with the staff at the end of the shift.

She then says, And I should know I used to be a server, throwing her hand above her head like she’s carrying a tray. 

I say excuse me…

And she repeats herself, once again throwing her hand above her head likes she’s carrying a tray.

I stand there looking at her as she walks away.

And with all people who tell me they used to be in the business when they complain I looked up their check in the POS.  They tipped $24 on $189. 

There is no fucking way you paid your bills with a serving job.  If you had you’d never tip that little on a check regardless of the service.  I’ve had to get up and get my own soda refill and still tipped 30%.  And if you’d actually been a server you might have some empathy and patience with a team who are working their asses off.

And I’ll end by saying, you get what you give.  When I checked in with my bartenders to see what their experience with you was, they said they gave you the service you wanted.  Including putting your silver back on the counter after having removed it. 

PS.  For all of their faults, we have an amazing bar team.  People fight to get seats at our bar.  So I have to wonder what the issue was tonight.  You perhaps? 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It rained tonight.  Actually it stormed. 

Think summer afternoon in the south.  Torrential rain.  Thunder.  Lightening.  Wind.  Hail in some places in the state.

A good ole southern thunderstorm. 

We don’t get them here often. 

We get nor’easters, but they just have wind and rain. 

We get hurricanes.  Once again, wind and rain. 

We get snowstorms, sometimes with thunder. 

But the storm we got today doesn’t happen much at all. 

The moral of the story is that I closed the patio.  By 2:00, the staff had been called.  Substitutions had been made.  Tables had been moved inside when we could, and cancelled when we couldn’t.

I moved about 30% of the tables inside today.  The rest got called.  Hi this is Jeff, calling from the restaurant.  You have a reservation for our patio tonight, unfortunately due to the thunderstorms forecasted for the afternoon, we are closing the patio.  We unfortunately (I’m aware every time I say, that I say unfortunately twice) don’t have a spot for you inside.  Would you like to reschedule for later in the weekend. 

Every time today they said no. 

Of the 10 or so reservations I had to cancel only one person was unreasonably upset. 

She responded by saying, BUT I MADE THIS RESERAVATION MONTHS AGO.   You can’t just cancel it. 

It was an 8 top.  There was absolutely nowhere to put an 8 top inside tonight.

I apologized again.

She once again, suggested the age of the reservation should change things. 

I wanted to say to her that I was no god and I could not control the weather. 

But I said, I’m sorry.  Reach out when you want to reschedule. 

At 4:45 as we were opening, the dining room was stacked.  Every table had 2 turns on it.  Some had three.  The bar was crazy, with every stool down to the second with reservations. 

And then it started.

It’s 4:50, we’ve just sat our first three reservations when Chef appears.  Do you have room for 3 tonight.  Friends of his. 

The host and I confer.  Find them a spot. 

Then, the other host comes to me and says that Mr. Smith has asked her to ask me if I’m sure I don’t have room for them tonight.  He’s on the phone waiting for an answer. 

I find him a spot, by moving reservations to a tighter turn, knowing we’ll be screwed eventually. 

The Mr. and Mrs. Jones come in.  Can we squeeze them and their son in.  It’s 5:10.  I tell them I can get them seated but they have to eat fast.   I need the table back by 6:30.  They were grateful and slipped me a crisp $100 bill upon a pass through the dining room. 

Then I get a text from a government official wanting to know if I can get he and his four friends in.   Once again, I get to work and make the magic happen.  I find him a table. 

All in all it was 6 reservations I made from 4:45 to 5:30 squeezing people we knew in.  It actually worked out great.  We only sat one party late and they were an 8:00 at the bar. 

We did have one couple that showed up at 7:30 for their reservation which was scheduled at 8:30.  At the bar.  They were upset they couldn’t wait at the bar.  They were upset that they couldn’t get a drink while they waited.  And the husband did the thing where he talks about how stupid our rules are to his wife just loud enough for us to barely hear him but not loud enough to cross a line. 

When they came in I told them it would be 8:30 before I could get them seated.  We sat them at 8:32. 

It was good night.  But I’ll be happy to not have to deal with the rain tomorrow.  It’s easier to get everyone in when there are more tables to play with.