I’d like to speak the manager!!!

So the following has happened like 15 times in the last two weeks.  At first I thought it was funny and silly.  But after the fourth, fifth, tenth person did it; I asked myself are we doing something wrong here.

We are open till 8:30 Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. 

We are open till 8:45 on Friday and Saturday.

The times aren’t published anywhere by us.  We say we are open 5:00 to Close. That way we are not chained to a specific time. 

We take our last reservation right at closing time.  We close at 8:30 we take our last reservation at 8:30. 

And here is what’s happening. 

Two weeks ago, I get a phone call for a reservation.  I offer the lady an 8:30 time slot as that is all we have.  Shen then asks what time we close and I say 8:30.  And she gets angry and says well isn’t that just fine, we’d have to order and eat in 15 minutes, if you close at 8:30. 

And at least dozen other times people have inferred that if we close at 8:30 they have to be out at 8:30.  Tonight a man called to change his reservation to earlier because he didn’t want to have to eat and run. 

And nowhere have we indicated that this is the case. 

Of course if you are seated at 8:30 you don’t have to eat and run.  We might, after 20 or 30 minutes ask you to order, but you can then take as much time as you need and stay as long as you like.  You have to legally be out by 1:00 am but I assure you that you won’t stay that long. 

Am I silly for thinking it’s strange that I have to answer this question?

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I was on the door tonight, as I am likely to be for the next few days, weeks, and months.

We opened the doors at 4:50 and one of the first people through the door was a couple. They walked in, didn’t acknowledge anyone and headed to the bar.

The host interrupted their mad dash and asked if they needed help. They told her they were going to the bar and she asked if they had a reservation.

You’d have thought she asked for them to give up their first born to her. They were stunned.

What do you mean a reservation at the bar? Of course not it’s the bar.

She explained that we take reservations at the bar and he said, since when and why?

I’m standing there watching the whole thing take place, thinking what a dick.

The wife then explains that they are there because they have friends dining with us and asks if they can join them. I find their reservation and unfortunately that can’t happen.

At this point the man angrily asks if we have open seats at the bar, and by now he has annoyed me so I say no. We had two. But he wasn’t getting them.

The hosts then asks if they’d like a table. The wife says yes and the host says inside or outside and the man loses it on his wife about how he is not eating outside, he doesn’t want to eat outside and he is not going to eat outside.

Then he makes a show of letting everyone know he has been here before.

He says, is Chef here, using his first name? I need to speak with him about this reservation business. He then asks if the bartender is here using is first name. He keeps going and going.

Finally he asks if they can at least go in and say hi to the bartender and they do.

The host whispers did you notice how he dropped Chef’s name like we were supposed to magically make seats appear because he knows him.

I say, did you notice how they didn’t get bar seats because the man is a jerk.

Finally they come out and I find out later went to the patio bar and had dinner there.

Of course when they got there the host outside asked if they had a reservations and the man was like, oh my god, if you tell me I need a reservation I’m going to lose it.

Fun facts that I know to be very true:

If you were a regular as your pretend to be, you’d know we take reservations. It’s been going on for over 2 years.

You’d be far better off dropping my name than Chef’s. Chef is only going to arrange for reservations for about 6 people. He tells everyone else to reach out to me. The hosts know that if someone drops Chef’s name they don’t know him, because he’d have made their reservation.

Meanwhile, if you drop my name, the hosts know that I probably do know them and might have an arrangement with them. Yesterday, I got to work at 2:30 which is late for me. One of my hosts came in early to help with phone calls because I knew I was going to be late. At least four people she returned calls to, ask for me to call them specifically.

And I did. Today. All of them were people I love and they all got what they needed. And two of them got things that were beyond the scope of what the host is allowed to do.

I can break the rules. They can’t.

So be nice to me, because I can make sure you always get the table you want. Or I can make sure we are always booked when you call.

A message from a friend of mine tonight.

He wrote:

I love your posts. Best part of staying up late is I often get to read them before I go to bed. I have never worked in a restaurant — but I am a frequent diner.  I’m astounded at the rudeness of some of the people you describe. And you have modified one of my bad behaviors. I have been that multiple-caller-no-message guy before. I’m a bit obsessive-compulsive that way but it never occurred to me that there might be a record of me doing that. OMG. My embarrassment now outweighs my obsessive-compulsiveness.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Some fun reviews we’ve gotten in the past three days:

We showed up an hour early and were seated.  But the bartender rushed us to order and leave. 

            The showed up at 5:00 for a 6:00 reservation.  They were in an out because they were 2 people and at 5:00 everything is fast.  Come at 6:00 and relax next time.

Our only complaint and we think it’s important is that the portions were too large and we are on vacation and couldn’t take home left overs. 

            I would have thought it wasn’t a big deal, but they gave us an 85% rating. 

The prices are expensive; especially considering no side comes with your entrée. 

            I’m pretty sure she was reviewing a steak house in Boston.  Every entrée we serve comes with a side.  Some of them come with 2 sides.  Chef prides himself on not being ala carte. 

We knew the focus of the restaurant in advance but the focus on large portions of pricey beef narrows the guest’s options.  80%

          Would you go to Ford and complain about the lack of Toyotas on the lot?  Would you go to a sushi restaurant and complain that there were no cheeseburgers on the menu?  Would you go to Victoria Secrets and complain that there were no underwear for men?  Would you go to a pet store and get mad that there are no feed for your cattle?  Would you go to a veterinarian and be mad that they won’t see your 9 month old child?  Would you go to a garden center and be mad that they don’t sell swimming pools.  This one was seriously weird as shit. 

My husband was not pleased with his choice. He said his chicken was too much work as he does not eat skin and it was a bit difficult to cut into bite size piece.

          Yes, having to cut your meat into small pieces is hard.  I suggest baby food.  It would suit you well.

Meanwhile, now word from Mr. Kray Kray on Monday. 

But.

One of the bartenders had two guests who did the same routine with her tonight. 

I was able to finally figure out what he was doing. 

The man on Monday and the two guests tonight, were trying to engage in a fight, without starting it themselves.  All of them asked pointed questions trying to get a rise out of us.  This included snide comments that never quite crossed the line. 

Meanwhile, on Monday I didn’t engager.  And tonight, the bartender didn’t engage. 

That is all. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

My boyfriend gave me the sweetest compliment today as we drove home. 

We were talking and out of nowhere he shared that he was disappointed when the alarm went off this morning, and he was looking at social media while I slept and there was no I’d like to Speak to the Manager!!! post. 

I don’t usually post on my day off, not for lack of subjects, but I try not to do any restaurant work and sometimes reliving the days is work. 

He also, hardly ever mentions my posts.  I know he sees them as he likes them on Facebook, but he does not comment and he hardly mentions them to me, except to say occasionally, you might want to correct your grammar, or are you sure you want to post that. 

In truth there has only been one post I’ve removed after the fact and he was right that it shouldn’t be made public. 

But it felt nice to know that he looks forward to my writing and my posts. 

It made me smile. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Adam and I went on a mini (key word mini) vacation yesterday. 28 hours from the time we left till the time we were home.

We went to western Mass to see a musical.

We had dinner before the show. It was a 7:00 curtain so we ate way earlier than we like to eat. We wanted to make sure we had time to walk to Ben and Jerry’s AND have a drink at the bar next to the theater before the show, so our reservation was at 4:00.

The restaurant opened at 4:00. We were seated at 4:03.

From the moment we were seated, until the time we left the experience was less than stellar.

The table was next to the bathrooms and wait station even though we were the only table in the restaurant for the next 30 minutes. We spent the first hour of our meal, watching the servers, eat lunch, roll silver and play with their phones.

The server we had left a lot to be desired. And that’s being kind. I will say he got our food right, and he coursed it appropriately but that’s where the service kind of ended.

I would really like to send the restaurant a case of salt as nothing was seasoned. And I do mean nothing. I’m not a salter, but boy did I go through half the shaker.

We did not stay for dessert mostly because we were getting ice cream, but we didn’t even let them tempt us.

The meal was not cheap. With tip it was over $200.

It was seriously, the worst service experience we’ve had since we were in Vegas in 2014. That’s worth a post in and of itself.

Here’s the thing.

We didn’t complain. We didn’t demand anyone be fired. We didn’t send our food back. We didn’t leave a bad review. When I checked in at the restaurant on social media half way through the meal I said nothing negative.

We both agreed that there would be no point in it.

The server is the server. He did nothing egregious but service is definitely not his life. I’m also guessing that it’s just has hard to hire in the Berkshires as it is on the coast. You hire who walks through the door, and sometimes they are not the right person.

The food is the food. There was nothing exactly wrong with it, we just have a more sophisticated palette. Their palette might suit their demographic better than ours.

The table was the table. Everyone, including me has a bad table. Someone has to sit there.

The point is there was no reason to make everyone uncomfortable. And we don’t live there. It might be two more years before we go back. I don’t need to make sure the restaurant goes out of business in the meantime.

So we ate, we tipped, we left.

And then we got ice cream.

And then we got booze. Where the service was worse.

And then we saw a play, and for the first time in my life we understand what the lyrics to Send in the Clowns actually mean.

And it was nice to get away for the night.

And today, I shared with my staff all the things that we disliked about our service, our meal and our table and explained that this is why I give such silly specific notes. It might not seem like a big deal, but to some it is. And if we can cross our t’s and dot our i’s then there will be far less to complain about.

And let me repeat, we didn’t insist anyone be fired. Not even the general manager, who was seated at the bar, drinking a glass of wine, working on something, even though the bar was full and I’m sure the bartenders would have liked that stool back.

No one, needed to be fired.

Except the lighting and set designer of the show we saw. They needed to be fired.

And PS. If the New York Times comments that when you bring in clothes that are supposed to be wet and aren’t, you take the note and make the clothes wet when you bring them in.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I don’t even know where to start tonight.  And I never have that problem. 

Today is Monday.  Monday’s have been the worst all summer.  85% of everything really bad that happened this summer happened on a Monday. 

So imagine my surprise when it didn’t rain today.  I was in a great mood.  My staff all seemed happy. 

All of the guests I encountered were happy beyond belief.  So many first timers.  So many people who live near us, who hadn’t dined with us before. 

To of my dearest friends in the area came in for dinner and it was not great to see them and chat even for just a moment. 

I actually got to enjoy the work today.  I floated from spot to spot having fun.  Joking with our team.  Joking with guests.  Joking with chef.  It was a great shift.

And at 8:25, I was standing at the host stand, while my host went out to the patio to make sure our last reservation had been sat. 

The host arrived back at 8:30 to say our last 2 top was seated.  We were all in. 

I go to the chef and let him know that we are all in, and that we have 5 open.

In regular people speak, that means all of our reservations have arrived and that we have 5 guests, who have not ordered yet. 

It’s 8:30 on our Friday night.  This never happens.  The late reservations always come late.  We are poised to have an early night. 

This is especially great because it’s payroll Monday and I have a lot to do before I can go home after everyone is finished. 

The host arrives back at the door and we are chatting, when a car pulls into the parking lot.  I say I wonder who this could be, mentally preparing for whether or not I would seat them. 

Closing time for us is not concrete.  Our website lists our hours as 5:00 to close.  We do this because there is no way to know how the end of the night is going to go.  Some nights we seat walk ins until 9:30.  Some nights we don’t seat anyone after 8:00. 

We are all in, I’m prepared to turn whomever it is away.

The door opens and in walks a man carrying a brief case and two shoulder bags.  For a minute I thought he was carrying luggage. 

He asks what time we close and I said, we closed at 8:30. 

He replies, great, I just made it, I’d like to get some dinner. 

It’s 8:42 at this point.  I know, because I looked at my watch before I replied. 

I say, our last reservations tonight were at 8:30, I can seat you but you’ll have to order immediately. 

I tell him this, and usually any table we seat after our last reservations so that they don’t think they can wait thirty minutes to place their order.  I set the expectations and I always say, you can stay as long as you like up to 1:00 a.m. after you order, but we’ll need your order in the next 10 minutes or so. 

He responds great, I’d like a booth where I can spread out…

Oh.  No.  No.  No.  You are not going to do work here.  We are not that restaurant.  We don’t have internet.  And no.  No.  No.  That’s not going to happen. 

I say to him, at this point we only have bar seating, so let me know what you want to do. 

He asks for a second and then puts his three bags down and leaves the lobby and goes into the restaurant. 

He is gone for what seems like a million years.  I thought he’d actually gone to the bathroom to poop he was gone so long. 

He was gone so long that I told the host that we would NOT seat him when he returned. 

Finally, he comes back into the lobby and what followed was the strangest, weirdest, chaotic, eccentric, peculiar, outlandish, creepy, kooky, bizarre, unusual, odd, erratic and mystifying conversations I’ve ever had in the history of my life. 

I’m 57 years old and in all of my time nothing compares to anything I experienced tonight.  Not in the restaurant business.  Not in the theater world.  Not in the friends I’ve had who went koo koo for coco puffs.  Not from drunk people I’ve watched throw up.  Not for people hi on something who can’t string two syllabals together.  I’ve seen homeless people in NYC who are passed out on the subway be less concerning. 

My host texted me and said it was the strangest thing in her 19 years of life. 

Seriously. 

At one point, I’m pretty sure my host who was standing to the left of me started to leave and I kicked her.  Harder than I meant, but I knew NO ONE would believe me when I shared this.  Eventually, we switched sides at the host stand and she pulled out her note pad and wrote, IS THIS MAN ON DRUGS?

So let me remind you that I’m not a person who remembers conversations.  Often when I’m replaying conversations on here I’m doing a lot of paraphrasing.  I have so many friends who can quote verbatim anything said to them. 

I’m so bad at it that when the encounter was over, exactly 20 minutes later, my host and I did a stream of consciousness to write down as much as we could remember.  In fact she texted me a few things we’d forgotten after she got home tonight.

So here is what took place, in my words best that I remember them.

First, unbeknownst, to me, he did not go poop.  He went into the dining room.  Where he was in the way, but also looking around.  He then went into the bar area, looked around some more than then exited through the dining room fire exit that is not alarmed.  From there, we went to the back of the restaurant where the patio is, then came in through what we call the Gallery, inspected every room there and then found his way back to the lobby where he says,

There are a lot of empty tables in there. 

I know where this is going, and at this point he’s not getting seated, so I say, thank you for stopping in we hope to see you some other time. 

And he looks at me and I’ve seen this look a million times.  It’s the how dare you say no to me. 

He says, thank you?  Thank you?  I know what you are doing here.  I see all the cars in the parking lot.  I know what you all are up to.  I know.

I wait.

He continues.  There so many empty tables in here but I know with all the cars in the parking lot what is going on here. 

Uh, I’m sorry sir,  What is it exactly that is going on?

You know exactly what I mean.  You know. 

I assure him that I don’t know. 

Everything that followed was him insulting me, it without stating the insult.  He reminded me of the woman who kept asking if I was calling her a liar.  This guy, never said an offense thing to me, but he certainly implied a lot of offensive things. 

For the life of me I can’t remember everything, but at one point he ask me what the writing on his hat meant.  It was a chemistry equation, and I said, I have no idea, and he said I thought not.  I knew you had not idea what was no my hat.  Of course not.  How could you?

I explained I had no idea what his point was and he responded, I’m not making point but I knew you’d have no ida. 

Have you ever heard of law school.  I doubt very seriously if you even know what law school is.  It’s where people go to study the law.  I went to law school and I studied the law, but you wouldn’t understand that now would you. 

I explain that yes I know what law school is but once again I don’t understand the point and he once again replied, I’m not making a point. 

He then starts telling a story about how he went to a city south of us last night and arrived at 9:30 and they closed at 9:00.  But they knew how to treat people, and sat him right away and were courteous and hospitable toward him and that he ordered a very delicious salad to go.  He normally brings his dinner to the restaurant with him as he likes to eat healthy when he spreads out to work but last night he treated himself to a salad at the restaurant where they knew how to treat him.

I ask him if he’s suggesting we treated him less than hospitable and once again he says, I’m not suggesting anything I just know that the restaurant from last night knew how to treat people.

He continues about the city south of us, you know years ago I worked for a company that helped develop the downtown.  And I had a friend who worked for the company and he was a structural engineer and the helped develop the down town and when I went into the restaurant at 9: 30 I asked for a water view and they gave me a water view.  I bet you can’t even give me a water view.

I try to explain that we aren’t near the water but he pushes past me and continues. 

He says that he spent the day in a little town 45 minutes west of us.  He went to five meetings today.  Five.  He’s been busy all day.  And he’s driven past our restaurant many times and didn’t want to stop because he’d heard bad things but tonight he was driving and he looked up at the night sky and what would you know, the NORTH star directed him to our restaurant.  He thought, how else would you find this place out in the middle of nowhere.  And now that he had found it, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to eat there. 

He continues to make implications that we are a tourist trap.  That our restaurant is not good.  And that he doesn’t know why people come there.  At one point he does say the space is pretty but he’s not so sure about the food. 

As he is saying all of this, I’m am thinking to myself.  What the fucking fuck.

And I engage him.  Not in a negative way.  At least not at first.  I just answer his questions without answering them.  And wait for him to finish. 

At one point he takes a breath and stops and I ask him exactly what point he is trying to make and he says that this is a social experiment that he is doing and he’s not sure we are passing. 

As he speaks and implies that we are less than good, it’s now approaching 9:00.  People are starting to leave.  And about every 90 seconds guests walk into the lobby and experience what is going on.

A woman comes in who left her credit card at the bar.  She walks in just as the man implies once again that we are a terrible restaurant.  He said something and I ask her how her meal was while the host gets her card.  She can’t stop gushing as he continues.  

The host returns with the credit card and the woman looks me in the eye…think Dracula putting staring longingly at you and says, I’m so sorry I have to leave you with this. 

She leaves and he continues.  ‘

People coming and going.  Also unbeknownst to me, one of my servers has gone to drop a check at a large party she had, and they tell her something is happening in the lobby.  You can’t get through and there is a man lecturing the hosts. 

She appears and witnesses a few minutes on the drama.

He continues.

At his point it’s been well over 15 minutes and I am starting to get pissed.  I tell him several times that we are an amazing restaurant and perhaps he should try it sometime.

He keeps asking questions, deflecting when I respond with a question. 

At one point he asks if I’m the manager or the owner.  I tell him it’s really none of his business but I am the General Manager.  He makes another comment implying that I’m not educated and I snap saying that he needs to stop and that I happen to have three degrees all from reputable schools and that unfortunately none of my degrees are law degrees or chemistry. 

He asks for a card at one point and I give him the generic card we have out with just our phone number on it.  He makes a comment that it’s been years since he saw a business that didn’t print people’s names on their cards.  He makes another snide comment about the card and I say, sir if you’d like a card with a name, here is my business card and this has my name AND my email if you need it. 

He continues and continues.

People come and go.  What is most notable, is not one person left without making a point about how great the experience was.  I’d stop listening to the man and would comment. 

People come and go.  I look up and very attractive man (not important to the story, but it he was a nice distraction while it was happening) is leaning against the front door frame waiting for his wife to come out of the restroom.  He is listening but trying to be as small as possible not to be drawn into the conversation.  His wife comes out of the restroom as the man…

Is finally done.  I motion for them to wait. 

I don’t remember what caused him to leave but he picks up his three bags, puts them all on his shoulder.  Makes three or four more strange comments.  And walks out. 

I hold up my finger in a 5^th grade school teacher sort of way, so that everyone knew NOT to speak until the door closed.

It closed and I said to everyone, that was the strangest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced in my whole fucking life.

The couple were very understanding.  And asked lots of questions.

They got to experience my rant as I could stop exclaiming how ludicrous is was.

They finally leave and I turn to Olivia and say, get some paper lets write this shit down.

And for 10 minutes we wrote everything we could remember. Servers came with requests and I did the 5^th grade finger thing again and told them to come back.

For Olivia and me it was stream of consciousness, just me saying things and her writing them down.  We had 3.5 pages when she was done and it didn’t come close to capturing the realness of what had happened.

The first thing I said as she started to write was OF COURSE IT’S MONDAY!!!

I also said he continue to insult me, without actually saying anything offensive.  He’s walk up to the line, spit over  it but NEVER step over it. 

Meanwhile, I’m exhausted from the experience.  I have three more hours of work in front of me.  Chef had told me he’d cook me steak at 8:30 and now it’s 9:15 and my steak is sitting on the chef’s table getting cold and continuing to cook. 

It’s 2:00 and I’m as exhausted thinking about it now as I was then. 

Just think, at 8:30 I was going to write about the couple who complained about the chicken because it was difficult to eat because it was NOT skinless. 

And now I have a short play just waiting to be written. 

And when I write the play I’ll get someone famous to play Olivia who just stands there and listens and gets kicked every so often. 

It’s late. I’ll edit this when I retire. I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

The following is the post that started it all. 

It was about a year ago this week.  I’d been posting all summer, but this one sealed the deal. 

The night before I’d been yelled at about warm wine.  I wrote about that exchange but this is the one that made me know I wanted to write on a regular basis again.

 I drove home rehearsing all the things that I’d wish that I’d said to the wine people.  I’m not a very good arguer.  Ask Adam, in the moment I shut down.  But I’m Perry Fucking Mason about three minutes after it’s over. 

So imagine my surprise when 24 hours later, I’m in the same situation and I can actually say all the things I rehearsed from the night before. 

Including the line about The New York Times writing an article on bad restaurant patrons. 

At that point all of my FB posts had started out with

Dining Out Tip:

A few weeks later, I made a post that wasn’t a tip on dining out, but was more a commentary, and someone pointed out that it wasn’t a tip and suggested I change the name of my posts. 

It was Adam that came up with the I’d like to speak to the manager!!!, tag line. 

I went back after I realized I wanted to write these and scrolled through two months’ worth of Facebook posts and cut and pasted them into a word document.  I then, copied them into my blog at

id-like-to-speak-to-the-manager.com  (As always, feel free to share this link with your friends). 

Here’s the post that started it all!!!!

Dining out rule.

Strike that.

Being a good human rule.

Do not. I repeat. Do not do the right thing, then demand something in return.

Tonight was a hard night for me because one of our hosts called out. I was stuck on the door as a result. Around 8:30 a server came to find me because she had an upset guest. She was so distraught she couldn’t even explain the problem. She finally sent me to her co-worker so he could bring me up to speed before I visited the table.

Seems that the guest in question had been presented their check. Upon receiving it, the guest discovered that their entrees were not on the bill. They brought it to the attention of their server. Upon presentation of the check they inquired as to what their compensation would be. What were we going to do for them?

The servers were dumbstruck. The guest did the right thing, but were now demanding a reward.

So the servers fetched me.

I went to the table. Where I was immediately inundated with all the reasons we needed to do something for them. Ultimately they felt like they deserved a reward. I explained to them that that’s not how life works. I explained if the same thing happened at a bank the bank wouldn’t give them free money. It only escalated from there. I finally asked if they only give to charity if the charity offers them a service.

I was then called an asshole. I was also told over and over that they saved our asses.

Then I was called an asshole again.

And then again.

I finally said I was going to get the check for them. I did decide to take one entrée off the check. However when I got back they started again. I finally said I felt sad for them that they really only do the right thing for the reward. I was called an asshole again. I explained that we are a business trying to survive during a pandemic. I’m called an asshole again and was told that was no excuse. They were saving our asses.

I leave the check and say the server will be by for payment. I walk back to the bar. I should state I’m on the patio. I’m now waiting in the patio bar. The next thing I know one of them walks up to me, throws the check presenter at me, slams his hand down on the counter and proceeds to yell at me some more. Before I can respond a woman at the bar turns on him, tells him to calm the fuck down. That she’s trying to eat and that he’s out of line. She was at the bar when I was being appraised of the problem. This doesn’t deter him and he keeps yelling. I tell him if he doesn’t calm down I’ll call the cops and they can help with the situation.

He leaves.

We run the credit cards and I return to the table. He starts again. Calls me an asshole again. I should mention that I’m acutely aware that this whole series of exchanges are being witnessed by other tables. I finally say to him. Sir. You may think what you want. By I suggest you subscribe to the New York Times. Because three weeks ago they ran a story about why people like you are making it so difficult for people in the restaurant business. He told me again how he saved my ass. Called me an asshole. And I walked away.

I go back to the bar. I must admit. I’m NOT shaken. These types of encounters just piss me off. When I get back, the women at the bar have a lot to say about the man. I promptly thank them for coming to my defense and buy the drinks they are consuming. Two seconds later a woman comes out of the bathroom and proceeds to tell me she kept her husband from chewing them a new ass and how great it was that I didn’t bow down to them. I bought her drinks too.

The whole exchange was surreal. They felt that I should buy their whole check because they did the right thing. The one man said over and over he was saving our asses. I might point out we are a steak house. There were no steaks on their check. They’d ordered the cheapest entrees. Not that I care. It’s just if they hadn’t paid it would have been about $125 dollars. Not exactly the end of the road for us.

After this exchange I hid from everyone for about an hour. I needed quiet. I stood at the host stand saying goodbye to people instead of my usual routine.

Did I really owe him more than the $33 dollar entree I comped.

PS. They did tip 18% on their check so they weren’t all bad.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Tonight at 5:00 we had at least four tables walk in with small kids.  Like really small kids. 

Each of one of them asked for a high chair. 

Only the first one got one.  We have two. One for inside.  One for outside. 

It actually says on Resy that we have NO high chairs and NO kids menu. 

The second table through the door tonight with a small kid, became outraged at this.  He told the person who sat him how displeased he was.  He told me.  He told the host at least 4,694 times.  At one point he yelled at his server, you need more high chairs in this restaurant. 

Here’s the thing.  We post that we don’t have them. 

We don’t say no to having kids in the restaurant, but the chef, who writes the checks each day to keep the doors open has made a call on how he wants to run the restaurant.  And I support his call.

People are spending lots and lots and lots of money at our restaurant for a nice experience.  And while he doesn’t say no to kids, he does nothing to promote bringing them in.

And here’s the thing.  Every kid is different.  Every family is different.  We had a family of four in the other day and the parents ordered both of their children filets, medium rare, with sides and they behaved and all was good in the world. 

Meanwhile, a family of 12 comes in on Thursday night, four adults and 96 children and they order three entrees and one coke.  They stayed for 2 hours and their kids were horrible.  Running and screaming.  I was terrified that they were going to be hit by a car after they ate, because the parents sent their children to play in the parking lot, while they talked at the table.  Our parking lot is lit, but not for children to play at night. 

Anyway, I get why we don’t have high chairs.

And PS, as I told a guy the other day, I’m sorry that your son is a picky eater, but you cannot bring McDonald’s chicken nuggets for him to have while you eat dinner.  Perhaps we should charge a $68 plating charge for kids meals, sort of like a plating charge for cake. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Today I noticed 2 five top reservations with the same last name. 

I knew what they were up to but I also knew that there was a message on our reservation system letting people know the result of trying this.

And what would you know I was right.

The first table arrives, checks in and lets us know they’ll be six.  They also ask to sit together and I let them know that this can’t be facilitated.  They sit without incident.

The second table arrives, checks in and lets us know that they’ll be six also.  The woman explains that our reservation system would only allow for 5.  I say yes, but you’ve arrived for 6.  She says, yes, because it wouldn’t let us make a reservation for 6. 

I then explain that they aren’t really five or six but 12 instead, and she very excitedly says yes.

Ugh.

However, they sat down.  They ate dinner.   They didn’t put the 6 year olds at one table and the adults at another table  (By the way, I will no longer allow this.  Our restaurant policy is that underage minors must be accompanied by one adult to dine at a table).  This keeps a server who draws the short straw from having four cokes and four cheeseburgers, while mommy and daddy share a bottle of wine and a Wagyu steak. 

However, the point of all of this, is I actually made sure I was at the door when they arrived just in case drama ensued.  But they were all so nice.  They ate dinner at their appropriate tables and all was good.