I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I get a call around 7:30.  

I answer.

It’s a woman looking for a reservation for 6 people on Sunday.

I give her the options and she says, great.  I’ll take it.  

I ask for her phone number, area code first and start the process.

I’m at the point of confirming when she asks if there is a better time on Saturday.

I can see people walking toward the door and the phone is ringing.

I don’t have time to look at 12 different days for reservations. 

She tells me to answer the phone.

I mute the phone, greet the guests, get them seated. 

She is gone when I get back to the phone. 

She calls back about 15 minutes later.

She tells me she is ready to book.

I get her phone number and am about to confirm, when she stops me and says, “I have a gift card for XYZ resort collection, I assume that I can use that at your restaurant.”

I assure her that she absolutely can NOT use that card at my restaurant.  We are two completely different companies.

This upsets her, and she stops the reservation, and says she’ll have to think about it.

And she hangs ups.

Here is the thing.

I don’t think we are in the yellow pages.

Unless she called information at 411, she must have had access to he internet to find our phone number.

Which means, she could have looked up the company on the gift card.  

Their website lists their restaurants.  We are not on said list.  

In fact, our guests complain that at this particular company’s hotels, we are not listed as a restaurant in town at all, even though we are pretty awesome.  

Needless to say, she did not need to call to ask about her gift card.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

A server came to me tonight and asked if we used a special air freshener in the men’s room, as a guest had asked her about it.

Seems the scent in the men’s room reminded him of home.  He thought since he was from the same city that our chef is from, we might use a secret air freshener from there. 

I assured her that that was not the case.  

She let me know that she’d never been in the men’s room. 

I assured her it smelled of piss and vanilla.  

Piss, because the men all seem to pee on the floor.  

Vanilla because the automatic air freshener was vanilla scented.

You can’t make this stuff up.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s done!!!

My last Monday till June!!!

The day was especially easy. I kept thinking that someone would have to prove me right and yell at me today because it was Monday. But alas, I did not get yelled at.  

I even had a server mention how easy the night was, and I told them that they were going to jinks us.  

Not only that, we had no late reservations, and EVERYONE showed up early tonight.

We were all in (all the reservations seated) by 7:15. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Server edition!!!

It’s 8:15.  What little wait we’ve been on has gone away quickly.  The restaurant is quieting down.  It’s a typical Saturday night in January.  My station is mostly empty.  I have a couple of tables and my rail has a couple who are finishing up dinner.

Enter a mother, her teenage daughter and 10 year old daughter.  They have been guided by the hosts to sit at my rail, so I assume they are only getting drinks.  I stop by and ask if they are drinking or eating and if they need to see a menu.  I’m told they are drinking and yes, they need a menu, which I promptly return with.

And I do my thing.  I finish up the tables I have and now all that’s left is my couple and my new group.

So I go over to take their order.

And  I’m told that the teenage daughter is the only one ordering.  The girl then points to one of our non-alcoholic drinks and wants to know if it’s pink.  I tell her that it is.  And she says great.  That’s what she wants.  I tell her I’ll be back in a jiff.  And I’m off.

I ring in the order.  And head to the bar.  I pick up the drink throw a straw in it, a little thing that has our logo on it and I take it to the counter.  As I drop it off I explain that it’s not as pink as it usually is because clearly the bartender has put more strawberry in it than normal.  I jokingly ask if that’s alright and the mother looks at the girl and seriously asks if that’s allright.  The girl is not happy about this but says okay.

At this point the mother explains that they’ve driven 90 minutes in from Connecticut just so the girl can have the pink drink that she had a week ago at our restaurant.  I jokingly say that I wished I’d had her for a mother growing up and walk away.

As I walk away, I’m thinking what a fucked up parent this mother is.  Who would drive 90 minutes to buy their daughter a smoothie.  REALLY???  Unless she’s dying of cancer I’d have told her that she could have a McDonald’s milkshake and if she was nice we might make it one from Dairy Queen.  But I’m not a parent so what do I know.

I head back to the wait station to hang out because my couple and my teenage girl are all that’s left.

I’m standing in the wait station talking when the food runner comes in and tells me the lady at 55 would like to see me.  It’s the girl.  So I go over and the mother explains that this is not the right drink.  And I explain that the drink is usually more pink but it’s all about how the bartender made it.  It should taste mostly the same.  The girl then explains that it’s NOT the right drink.  The drink she had last week had strawberries, oranges, and pineapples on it.  I say that’s my fault that I didn’t put them on, and that I’d be happy to fix it.  And then the daugther becomes bitchy and says “THIS IS NOT THE RIGHT DRINK.  THE ONE LAST WEEK HAD ORANGES, PINEAPPLE AND STRAWBERRIES ON IT.”  I’m getting impatient at this point.  I pick up the drink and say, “The garnish does not effect the taste of the drink.  And I can FIX the problem of the lack of fruit.”  And the girl gets pouty and the mother asks if this will be alright and the girl says no.  So I pick up the drink and start to walk away.

And the mother asks to see the menu again.  So I get it for her.  And I stand there.  And stand there.  And stand there.  Holding a perfectly good Wildberry Smoothie in my hand while the girl checks and rechecks the menu.  She and her mother are trying to best decide what their choice should be to get the girl what she ordered last week.  And I stand there and I stand there and I stand there.  At this point my couple at the end of the counter are looking at me.  They are waiting for their check, which is in my pocket.  And I stand there.  And I stand there.  And I stand there.  While they debate.  And ask me questions.  Which of these drinks are pink?  “They are all shades of red.”  The drink I had last week wasn’t frozen it was more of a slushy.  “All of our non-alcholic drinks are either frozen or on ice.  They are not slushies.”  Which one of them comes with fruit on the glass?  “They all come with a garnish of fruit on the glass.”

And this continues.

And the girl is getting more bitchy and more pouty.

And finally the mother looks at me and says, “I want you to get her what she had last week, with the fruit!”

And I explain that I’ll get her exactly what she had last week with the fruit if they’d just tell me what that is.

And the mother asks if they can get the same drink remade but more pink.

And now I’m just laughing on the inside at how ridiculous this whole scenario is becoming.

And so I say, “I’ll be happy to get it made over again, if you can tell me what’s wrong with it.”

And the daughter pipes up once again and says, “It doesn’t taste right because there’s no fruit.”

And I explain that the fruit on the outside of the glass doesn’t affect the drink on the inside, and that I’ll be happy to get them a different drink.  But I won’t get them the same drink made to be more pink with fruit.

At this point the mother gets huffy with me and picks up her coat and says, “Let’s go.  We are not going to get what we want!”

And the entire time my couple is watching this take place.  And so I walk over to them and they ask what the problem was.  And I explain that the spoiled child was sending her drink back because it wasn’t pink enough.  And the mother was mad at me because I wouldn’t have it remade.   I don’t think they believed me.

And what I wanted to say was, “It’s all fine and good.  Make her happy.  And continue making her happy.  And spoil her.  And spoil her.  And just wait to see how she finally turns out.