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.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s Monday, October 3rd.  

I’ve been looking forward to this day since Memorial Day.  

Memorial Day was the last Monday we were closed for business. I have worked 6 days a week for the past 18 weeks.  

Tomorrow will be our last Monday open until next June.  

Needless to say I’m very, very, very, very, very happy about that.  

It’s been a long, successful, but sometimes ugly summer.  

Tomorrow marks the true beginning of FALL.

This week starts our countdown to our shutdown for Christmas.  

11 weeks to go.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I emailed gift card guy today.

I said, I understood his frustration and that if he emailed me a copy of his receipt I would screenshot the gift card and send it to him.  Unfortunately, I could not refund his money, or adjust his check.

I just got an email saying, I don’t understand why you can’t adjust it, it’s not that hard.

Ugh.

Of course, I can adjust it.  I’m not going to.  Nor should I.  

Also, he wanted $150 refunded but the gift card was only for $120.

I’ll send him his card tomorrow.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

As I’ve mentioned here before, I am a one-man band at my restaurant.

Always, in the past, I’ve had people.  

Someone to take care of events.

Someone to write the schedule.

Someone to manage the bar.

Someone to help with inventory.  

Someone to track tips.

Someone to help with emails.

Someone to help open.

Someone to help close.

Someone to help with the deposits.  

Someone to check side work.

Someone to help return phone calls.

Someone to help manager the floors.

Someone to help with management of the staff.

Somene to help remember to order napkins so we don’t run out on a Sunday night.  

Someone to help…

I am a one-man band.  

And for the most part I do okay.  

But I have lists and lists and sometimes I misplace my lists.  Or something slips through the cracks.  Or the schedule is posted late.  Or like tonight, we ran out of napkins and had about 20 spare rollups left when the shift was over.  

Needless to say, It’s a struggle making sure all the t’s and i’s are taken care of.  

The story I am about to tell has played out about 100 times this summer.  

Today I notice a server is being a little quiet with me…somewhat distant.  

I corner them after pre-shift and ask if they are okay.  In fact, I asked if they needed a hug and then gave them one.

At this point, they say they were going to wait till the end of the shift but might as well go ahead and ask.

They say, is there some reason I have less shifts than normal?

I assure them no, and then go on to explain why they have the schedule they have.

They go on to say, are you sure.  I’m pretty sure you are just mad at me and want me to quit.

UGH!!!

I have this conversation every two weeks.  

First, I don’t have the energy to plot out revenge on a server by scheduling them less.  

Second, most of the time it’s a fucking mistake.  

We use a scheduling tool called Schedule Fly and it’s the worst.  The fucking worst.  I have yet to find a way to look at the schedule in a traditional schedule format, with a name and all of the shifts listed.  It separates everything out by position and then name.  

Most of the time this mistake is from copying and pasting the week before, and you asked off that week. 

The situation this week is that we have a special event on Thursday and this server specifically asked not to work the event, and since they work on Thursday, I didn’t schedule them.

Nothing evil on my part. 

Actually, I just trying to give said server what they wanted.  

I explain this to them and they react like everyone does.  

I seriously don’t have the energy to manage this way.

They say, they are happy to know I’m not firing them…

And true confession:  There is only one person I’ve ever tried to get rid of this way, and they being the ballsy person they are, walked in and said, you are not getting rid of me by not scheduling me, so if you don’t want me to work here you are going to have to fire me.  

To my knowledge they are still picking up shifts.  And she went on to become a favorite of mine.  

To all of my staff reading this, it’s just a mistake.  Trust me, just a mistake.

I’ll let you know if I’m going to fire you.

I’ll ask you to meet me at G-4.    

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Today started as every day does.  I got to work, checked messages, got coffee, settled in with the phone.

There were about 27 messages today.  

I plugged through them one by one.  

At least four of them were reservation requests for the first week of December.  I can’t believe we are already booking into December.  

I get to the next to the last message and dial the number.  

A woman answers and I say, Hi, this is Jeff calling from the restaurant, you needed help with a reservation?

She launches in, without a greeting.  

Yes, I’m calling because I’ve tried booking a reservation online on Saturday.  But you are booked.  And I don’t understand…why you don’t have more reservations available.  She is aggressive but not rude…yet…

She continues, will we be able to be seated on Saturday night if we just walk in?

I explain, that we take reservations, but we do NOT save room for walk-ins as many restaurants do. Therefore, when we are booked, we are booked.

She asks about cancellations.  I explain that we do not run a list.  

She then inquires about the bar. I explain that we do take reservations at our bar, but unfortunately, I won’t have room for 4 people at the bar on Saturday night.   

She continues, explaining that they have come from out of town to visit their son, who is working in the area, and it would be ashamed if they couldn’t bring him as they’d promised they would.

She never lets me speak, and as she continues, she becomes less and less patient and more and more aggressive, and less and less polite.

We are on the phone for a good 10 minutes and she has yet to ask me for a reservation on Saturday night. She has been speaking at me, about our policies, our system, and all the ways we have wronged her.  Not once speaking the magic words, “Do you have any availability for 4 on Saturday.”

Fun fact:  If she’d ever said, do you have room for 4 on Saturday night, she’d be eating at my restaurant in a few days.  However, as she became less polite, I decided she would not be getting a reservation at my restaurant, even if she asked.   

Finally, she asks if she can put her name on a wait list.  I explain again that we don’t run a wait list, or cancellation list, and so she is welcome to check on line in case there is a cancellation.  

Great.

She then asks if we have a private room to host functions.

I explain, that we have space available but it’s not really private.  We have four semi-private rooms that can accommodate up to 10 people each, or 40 when opened up.  

She then asks about availability at the end of October.  I say, that yes, we currently have availability but that I wouldn’t be able to say for certain until we are ready to book.

I go on to explain that we have a group menu that we use, and that I’d be happy to check availability and send the menu and pricing if she just emailed me the details of her event. 

She pushes on, so we won’t be able to order off the regular menu.

Unfortunately, no.

She is continuing to get more and more aggressive.  

She then changes her line of questioning…

How big is your bar, could we do an event at the bar?  How many people can you accommodate at the bar?

I explain that we don’t do events at the bar and the most we’ll ever seat is 4 people at the bar.

Well, how many bar stools do you have?

I tell her I’m confused as to why she needs to know how many barstools we have.  The most we’ll accommodate is 4.  

She changes tactics again, and wants to know how big the restaurant is.

I say, it’s not very big. 

She says she wants to know exactly how many seats we have.

I ask, her why she needs to know this and that it’s a strange question.

She is beginning to lose her cool with me.

She says, it’s a common question people ask, how many people does the restaurant seat?  She continues saying, she has worked for a restaurant for the last 18 years and she gets asked this all the time.

I say great, we seat 275 people.

She says, that’s not small at all.

I have made the number up.

I say, well compared to other restaurants I’ve worked at, its not big at all.  

She pushes on, great.  I’d like to get more information; do you want my email address?

I say, uh, no.  You need to email me.

She says, you won’t email me?  

I say, no you need to email me.  

May I ask why?

Because I need to know the date and time and number of people before I can give you availability and a quote. 

She is really mad now.

Are you being serious?

Yes, I’m being serious.

Fine!  What’s your email?

She then explains that she’ll be in the area doing consulting for several restaurants in the area.  For the life of me, I don’t care.  She goes on about how she’s been in the business for years and blah, blah, blah.

At this point, I’ve been on the phone for an eternity and I just want to hang up.

Finally, she runs out of steam and she says, what do you need in the email again?

Just the date and time you are looking for and the number of people.  

And you’ll send the details along with the menu?

I say, yes.

She says, great, will you also send me the regular menu, since you have chosen not to put it on your website.

I explain, that unfortunately, we do not post our menu online, nor do we send it out.

Why, does it change weekly?

At this point, I’m just annoyed.

I say, no, it hardly ever changes.  

This makes her furious. 

Great, I’ll email you then, and can you please call me if you have an opening on Saturday night?

I say, of course and hang up.

She emails one sentence 90 seconds later.

And I emailed her back about 4 minutes later.

The price I quoted on the group menu was about 40% higher than we usually charge.  

The way I see it, if she’s this much of a pain before the event, she’ll be awful to work with.

After the shift, I told Chef the story and he said, I should quote double next time.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I took a phone call two or so weeks ago.

It was a woman, making a reservation for 7 people. They were celebrating a birthday. At the end of the conversation, she let me know that she was a chef and owned a restaurant not far from us.

I make a note of this in the reservation and think nothing more of it.

She arrives on Wednesday night, and it’s clear she is a character. She is a close talker, full of energy and goes on and on about her restaurant which has closed because of staffing issues.

We get her seated and from that point on you’d have never known she was in the industry.

She tried to order things not on the menu.

She got upset that we don’t offer lettuce and tomato on our burger.

She got upset that we offer a cake cutting fee.

She didn’t like her drink.

She kept her server, who is a longtime professional running all night.

She came out to the host stand several times to gently nudge us to do her a favors.

Unfortunately, I had no idea how rude she was being to the server until they were almost ready to leave.

And, when the server finally mentioned it to me, I assured her it would be okay as they are industry and will take care of her.

Alas, I had to eat my words as they tipped her 15% on the check.

What the fucking fuck?

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

A couple arrive a few minutes late for their 7:00 reservation.  

We get them seated a couple of minutes after they arrive.

About 7 or 8 minutes after they are seated, the man appears holding a piece of paper.

He begins to tell me that he was given a gift card that was sent to his phone, but he no longer has access to it.  He then tells me that he needs me to look it up for him as he has the purchase information.

I explain that I can’t step away to do so during service, so unfortunately, he won’t be able to use it tonight.  

He looks at me like I have 8,537 heads and says, “I don’t understand?  I’ve used Toast before, it’s not that hard.”  Then he walks away.  

Here’s the thing, we are busy.  

It’s not that it takes a long time, but when we are busy, I am on the door and can’t disappear for five minutes to take care of this.    

It’s the reality of being short staffed right now.  

Also, he made his reservation three days ago, so he knew he was coming, he could have reached out then to ask us to look it up for him.  

Alas he did not.  

__________

I wrote the above last night and didn’t post it. 

However, I got to work today to find the following email:

Had a wonderful meal at the restaurant last night but was very disappointed with the fact that I couldn’t use a gift card I have. I was gifted the card for my bday in April via text and unfortunately when I upgraded my phone I no longer had access to it. I did however have the receipt for the email. I tried calling on Wednesday when I made the reservation and left a message.. Unfortunately I missed the return call and the voicemail didn’t explain anything. I tried calling twice that night and yesterday twice also before getting to the restaurant. 

Upon arriving and being seated I went out to the host stand and was informed by the manager that no I wouldn’t be able to use the gift card due to him not being able to access the gift card through the receipt I presume? I know your POS system is “toast” and I am very familiar with how to access the back office side of things so it was a bit surprising to me that he couldn’t go do it especially with two people at the host stand.  I am moving in less than two weeks and won’t have another chance to use this card so I am hoping you can either refund me the gift card to the original credit card or adjust my payment from last night to use the card. $150 is a lot of money to me and my wife so I’m hoping you can help me out. Available via cell phone (555-555-5555) or via this email at your convenience. 

Again, I want to stress that the food and service were both magnificent and we always love eating at the restaurant. 

First, I’m truly sorry that you didn’t have access to your phone.  I’m also sorry that you didn’t have access to the gift card. 

But as always, there are about 17 things that you wrote that are not true.  

Believe it or not, every message that I’ve taken since I’ve started is recorded in a spiral bound notebook.  I still have every message.  It’s 4 notebooks at this point.  I have no idea why I keep them, after 15 months but I do.  So if you left me message on July 25, 2021 I can look up said message.

I assure you that I did not in fact have a message from you on Wednesday.  I had a lot of messages, but there was not one from your number.  I also assure you that if you’d left a message about a missing gift card, I’d have said, email me the receipt and I’ll get you the card gift card number back in less than 24 hours in my voicemail.  But that didn’t happen.  

I also know that I was in the restaurant answering calls all day on Wednesday.  If you’d left a message, I’d have known.  I’d also have known if you’d left a message on Thursday as it would have been recorded in the notebook.  And I’d have known if you left a message on Friday as I answered calls all day, and was even the person who checked the voicemails just as we headed into service.

Alas there was no chance for me to remedy the situation prior to your arrival.  

I’m also super happy that you know how to use Toast.  I know how to use a lawn mower but I’m not going to begin to tell the company that mows our lawn how to run their business.  

Yes, there were two of us on the door.  It was 7:00.  Between 7:00 and 8:30 we sat a lot of guests.  I was running the door.  Meaning, I’m the one making the decisions when the guest came in.  Also, anyone who was working last night will tell you that tables weren’t turning.  We were pivoting and pivoting again to get guests seated as close to on time as possible. 

As for a refund, uh, no.  

We have delivered on our promise.  You bought a gift card.  We delivered a gift card.  

Almost everyone, knows that a gift card is the same as cash.  It’s all about who possesses it.  We will not be refunding your check, we will not be refunding the card.  

However, if you email me the receipt that you have, I will gladly look up the number for you and email it back to you. 

Perhaps, you know someone who will buy it from you.  There are always people on marketplace, pawning gift cards.  

I’d like to speak with the manager!!!

Server edition!!!

Do you want the good news first? Or the bad news?

I’ll start with the bad news.

It’s not really bad news, it’s just what a fucking night. The two manager who hate me were nowhere in sight so I didn’t have to deal with that. The managers that were present were out of their fucking minds. And not in the good way. They started the shift by reminding us that the economy sucks so make sure we make the best of the busy season. They also reminded us that people are spending their money carefully, so they’ll be much less likely to tip if they don’t get a great experience while we are waiting on them.

And then our shift started.

I immediately went on the floor and filled some of my empty chairs. I sat everyone and told them I’d be right back with menus. I get their butts in the chairs and then I run get menus for everyone. It saves me a trip and I know exactly how many I need. Except when I got to the host desk there are no menus. So I went looking. And looking. And looking. By then it’s been 4 or 5 minutes and I’ve only found four menus. For 10 people. So I explain that we are short menus and ask if they can share and that I’ll be back in a minute. And then I fill the rest of my chairs. And I tell those people that I’ll be back in a minute with menus. And I look. And I look. And I look. And by now all the first round of tables is getting antsy because they are ready to order and I’m not there. And the second round of people doesn’t understand why they don’t have menus.

And so the night went. For some reason we don’t have enough menus to seat the restaurant. And because the menu is changing the first week of January, they aren’t getting new ones. So tonight, they were seating people without menus and leaving it up to the servers to scrounge around and find enough for people to share.

My first round of tables was such a disaster that I got stiffed on four of the first five tables. And I don’t blame them at all. The experience sucked and the service was worse.

Oh, but that’s not the good part.

The good part?

The kitchen crashed and burned tonight. In a Towering Inferno kind of way.

The fastest ticket time I had during the evening was about 25 minutes. And that’s about 10 minutes longer than it’s supposed to be. Food was running anywhere from 45 to 60 minutes. And then it was anybody’s guess as to whether it was cooked right or even what the person ordered. I was already so perplexed by the menu situation that I didn’t even have the energy to deal with the food problems. And there are only two approaches you can take. You can ignore your guests and their questions and hope they understand. Or you can explain that things are a mess and you’ll do the best that you can.

I tried both approaches tonight. Neither seemed better than the other. By the end I was just telling them that the food was going to take a while. A long while. A VERY long while. So not to be upset or to be surprised. This way no one can be angry with me. My favorite tonight was the guy who called me over and said, “You know we ordered food?” “Yes, I know.” “So where is it?” “In the kitchen” “Can you go get it?” “If it were ready, you’d already have it.” “Do you think it will be ready soon?” “Probably not.” And I walked away. Luckily it was a ten top so their tip was included.

I was talking to the kitchen manager tonight at the end of the shift. His story was that they were staffed for the Tuesday nights we’ve been having not the Tuesday night that we have in the middle of the holidays. In the kitchen we have a fancy computer system that is used for timing tickets. When an order is placed, the computer knows what’s going to take the longest and sends that to the kitchen first. And then after an appropriate amount of time, send the rest. Broken down as it needs to be. At one point tonight there were over 50 tickets on the computer that couldn’t be seen because of the backlog of tickets being cooked.

IT WAS A CLUSTERFUCK!

And so the manager’s way of dealing with that.

It’s what a friend of mine calls “Straightening the chairs on the deck of the Titanic.”

They immediately started focusing on the other things that were going wrong. The little things. Like someone using napkins to clean up a spill on their table. Or someone not garnishing a drink right. Or someone not having plates on the table when an appetizer was delivered. Or for me…not closing my checks out after someone paid. I was told at one point that I couldn’t seat myself any more until my checks were closed out. As if that was going to fix the big problem of the evening. The manager’s were complete asses to everyone after things started to fall apart. And the staff was actually doing okay with it till the managers got out of hand. Then suddenly the morale in the place plummeted. No one was doing anything to help.

And my night really started off well with a host from our restaurant sitting in my section who left me two bucks on a 35 dollar tab. What the fuck? Really? 

And so enough bitching.

It’s Christmas Eve now.

I got my first two Christmas gifts tonight.

Chuck left me a gift under the tree. I have to figure out when I’m going to open it. I like to wait. I like to postpone these things as long as possible. When I was a kid, and it’s still true, I never peaked at my gifts. To this day you could tell me not to look in the bag by the door and I’d never look. I like the expectation. As I was typing this I realized it might have something to do with the presents I received as a child. They were not usually what I wanted because my parents couldn’t afford them. After a while I started asking for things that were easier for them to get. But I think that I postpone opening gifts because I’m not disappointed in the waiting. And I don’t have to pretend to like it in the waiting. But once the paper is off suddenly everything changes. When I was a kid, I learned to plaster on the smile and make my parents think it was the perfect gift. Even when I was eight or nine I knew they were doing the best that they could. Long story short, I like to wait. And wait. And wait. So I have to decide when to open my gift.

And my second gift.

The bartenders gave me back my tipout tonight. They told me that I tipped them out so much the rest of the year that tonight I could keep it. I tried arguing with them but they wouldn’t hear of it. And they did not have a great night. But I thought it was very sweet of them to offer and to thank me for the money that I give them. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in trying to make your own money that you forget the people around you. It may very well the best gift I’ve been given in a long time.

But it’s Christmas Eve now, so the bad really doesn’t matter anymore.