I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Today started off with a bang.

I didn’t get to bed until almost 5:00 a.m.

When the alarm went off, I said fuck that. I reset my alarm for an hour later and tried to go back to sleep.

I got up an hour later, now an hour late for work.

I get to work and find the bar filled with people who have come to watch the World Cup.

I set up in the quietest place I can find.

I start returning messages.

Message 2 is from Michelle. I call her.

She answers and says that she is looking for a reservation next Friday night.

The catch is, next weekend, is the big annual Christmas celebration in our town. We are 98% booked already.

I look for a place for her there is nothing. I tell her this.

She practically begs. In a comical way.

She says that she will be making meatballs and will bring me some if I find her a reservation.

I assure her that I wish I could help.

I hang up and go on with phone calls.

When I’m done, on a whim I take a second look for Michelle.

I’ve said since I started this job, that it’s hard to find a hole to put someone in when they are staring at you. I often ask people to step aside and give me a second to find a spot.

I equate it to The Queen’s Gambit where she solves the problems on the ceiling.

Today I realized that I could move a 2-top, then a 4-top and there you go. A reservation for Michelle next Friday.

I call her and give her the news.

She is beyond happy. I tell her that I am glad I could help. And that we will see her next Friday.

Fast forward to 5:30.

I’m standing at the host stand and we see a woman marching in carrying something.

I say wonder what this is?

A woman walks in and says, Are you Jeff?

I reply yes.

She says, I’m Michelle. I brought you some meatballs.

Seriously.

She hands me a lasagna pan covered with foil.

It’s still warm.

I can’t believe this.

She tells me that she is very grateful that I got her a reservation next week. She tells me that she’ll pick up her pan next week.

And with that she is gone.

We let it cool. Then put it in the walk-in.

At the end of the shift the kitchen warmed it up for us.

Turns out it was pasta and meatballs.

And it was delicious.

The staff loved it.

It was a very sweet gesture.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I mentioned that I hired 2.5 hosts.  

One of them was training tonight. I was letting her drive the bus, while I stood there and tried to not tell her how to do everything.  

The 2nd half of the night was quiet so we were engaged in getting to know each other.  

At one point she asked me what my favorite food was.  

I thought for a second and then said, while I like ice cream a lot, I don’t know that I have an absolute favorite food.

I went on to say that I like too many foods to choose just one.  

The tuna crudo at Adam’s restaurant is amazing.  

The steak tartar is amazing.  

The carpaccio at my restaurant is amazing.  

She then told me she could tell I was high maintenance.  

I protested, but she insisted.  

Then she changed high maintenance to elegant.  

I assured her that I was also pretty basic.

Because a Whopper with Cheese, and extra mayo is also amazing.  

Avocado egg rolls at The Cheesecake Factory are pretty fucking amazing.  

And a Sonic corn dog is also amazing. 

She continued to tease me.

I then told her that before I met Adam the most adventurous thing I’d ever eaten in the history of eating was escargot. I barely ate any seafood. Oysters I thought were gross. I refused to eat sushi because it was raw fish. Chicken liver mousse was beyond anything I’d ever put in my mouth.  

Today, bleu cheese and olives are really the only foods I don’t really like. And I’ll eat both of those things when it’s in a dish I order.  

Meanwhile, I’m going to see if we have any ice cream in the freezer. If not there a good chance we have some chicken liver mousse in there instead. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I was at the host stand tonight when a bartender came to let me know that he’d had a recook. A filet that the guest said was “too” medium.  

I’m not sure what that means, but okay. He lets me know that the chef is making her a new filet. 

The new filet lands at the bar.  

I’m actually, still at the host stand, looking into the bar area, when I see the bartender get called over. He speaks with the guest, and picks up the new filet.  

I meet him at the kitchen window.  

He lets me know that the new filet is closer to rare than medium.  

Chef lets him know that it will be out in just a couple of minutes and puts it back on the grill.

I stand at the window waiting. It should be no more than 4 minutes to get it up to the temperature that she wants, which I have been assured is medium rare NOT medium.  

I’m standing there when the bartender taps me on the shoulder and tells me to cancel the filet. The guest no longer wants it.  

I hate this game.  

We’ve waited too so we don’t want it any more. They do this if they wait for a table, if the kitchen is being slow, or the meal needs to be remade.  

We are NOT going to eat to prove a point.  

Sometimes, I can turn the scenario around by explaining that at this point, we are going to buy you the filet so if you don’t eat it, we are just going to throw it away.  

But so many times the guests still leave in anger. 

And here is the deal.

If you have waited too long to be seated, it’s usually a busy night. By the time you drive to a new restaurant, wait for a table in their busy restaurant, you might as well wait and let us make it up to you.

Same is true if your food takes an hour to get to you.

But alas, tonight there was no turning it around.

She lets me know that it’s her anniversary, and that the entire experience has been disappointing, from the cocktails, to the service, to the food. She absolutely has not intention of eating the steak.

I say to her, if you don’t eat it, at this point I’m just going to throw it away so please enjoy the filet.  

She says absolutely not, then launches into the fact that our bartender makes horrible drinks and then was rude to her when she pointed this out.  

I apologize for this.  

She lets me know that she is a regular, and that the service and experience that she has gotten is inexcusable.  

I apologize again, as I stand there holding her filet.  

She says to me, I’m not going to eat the steak, if you want to wrap it up for me that’s your business.  

Seriously.

17 seconds later, I dumped into the garbage.  

And went about my business.

For someone whose experience was so terrible, she and her husband stayed another 30 minutes.  

Of course, I’m at the door when they leave. I made a point of being there, because I didn’t want the host to bear the brunt of her anger.  

I’m greeting guests, when the guest comes into the lobby.

She looks at me with a death glare and I brace myself for the assault.

She asks if I’m the manager.

I assure her that I am.

She then says that she wants to discuss her experience with me.

I say okay.

She says, now?

I assure her that now is fine.  

There are two guests in the lobby. The chef’s son and his mom. They sit down on the couch and get settled like they have just decided to watch a movie in Imax.  

I have known this was coming for 30 minutes. I’m prepared for it. I remain calm. And actually gage my words much more than usual, so as to not appear rude, aggressive, or condescending.  

She starts.  

The entire experience was horrible.

She was given a drink that had no flavor and was flat.  

She told the bartender the drink tasted like it had no flavor and was flat and he said to her, maybe it’s because your taste buds are still getting over the meal you had last night.  

I say that I’m so sorry that that occurred, I will surely speak with him at the end of the night about how he spoke with her.  

She continues with the steak not being cooked correctly.

I apologize again, and let her know that I am sorry it wasn’t cooked correctly for her either time.

She then says, and then you comped the steak I didn’t eat, and the drink I didn’t like and that was all. I am never coming back. If you wanted us to return, you’d have comped the whole meal.  

I’m standing there, just staring at this point.  

I say, that of course I want them to return, but I’m not sure it warranted comping the entire check.

Fun fact: If they use the word comp, it’s not the first time this game has played out.

She says, but the bartender was rude to us.

I apologize again, and say that I will speak with him.

She repeats that that’s not enough.

I say, are you asking me to fire him? I can’t fire him in the middle of the shift if that’s what you’re proposing. We still have three hours of business to get through. I’m not sure what you are expecting me to do for you.

She then says again that I should have comped the meal.

I explain, that I can’t do that, and she lets me know she is never coming back and that I don’t seem to care.

The husband looks beaten. He tries to protest, but he is not a fighter. He just keeps saying that the bartender said something rude.

They finally leave.  

As promised, I checked in with the bartender at the end of the night.

He says, that it was two, NOT one drink that she sent back. And after the second drink was returned, he made a joke about her palette. This does not surprise me, as he has a dry sense of humor. Clearly the joke did not land. 

I’m still not sure what she wanted me to do.  

I was not going to comp the apps, the cocktails, and the wine that they had.  

I am not going to fire a bartender, who has worked with us for almost three years and is an exemplary employee over a bad joke. 

I bought her steak and drinks that she did not like.  

I know that we are in a service industry. But if the salesperson at Macy’s was rude to you, would you demand to get your shoes for free?  

McDonald’s employees in NYC are famous for being surly, but I’ve never gotten a free Big Mac.  

I also know that in my entire life, I’ve returned one drink. It was disgusting. And I was presented with the bill, with the drink still on the check. And I didn’t lose my mind. I paid the check. Knew it was a mistake. And have been back to that restaurant several times.  

Life is a series of experiences, some of them mistakes.  

How you choose to deal with them speaks volumes about who you are.

I remember a birthday dinner about 20 years ago, that I felt had a service issue, and I made a big deal out of it. I embarrassed myself and my friends.  

It’s one of those moments that still embarrasses me.  

And how do I atone for that behavior? By NEVER doing it again.  

When given a choice, take the high road. Every time.  

Choose to be accepting. It will change your life.  

It certainly has changed mine. 

Id like to speak to the manager!!!

Our guests arrived for our Thanksgiving gathering around 3:00 today. We had cocktails, and way too many apps while Adam finished dinner.

There was laughing. And dancing. And hugs. And stories. And warmth and love.

We sat down to dinner around 5:45.

Plates are full. Wine is poured. Pictures taken. Toasts made.

And just as I take my first bite I hear my phone that is in the kitchen ding. I have a text message.

I ignore it. There is love to share at the table.

I get up to get seconds and check my phone.

Surely it’s a loved one wishing me a happy thanksgiving.

Uh. No.

The message says: Can we get in this Saturday at 7pm for 8? Thanks Phil.

Seriously dude. It’s a fucking holiday. We are closed today. You couldn’t have reached out yesterday? Or tomorrow?

There are about 12 people with my cell. 11 of them are gracious. And thankful. And appreciative.

He is not one of them.

Their way of showing gratitude is by throwing money at me and the staff.

They will often give me a cash tip.

But fun fact.

I don’t expect it. Want it. Or need it.

Is it nice? Sure.

I am not nor have I ever been motivated by money.

A show of respect goes further.

A. Lot. Farther.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

A couple of weeks ago we had a VIP table in.  

Well, sort of VIP.  It was a group of business people, that are trying to convince our chef to go into business with them.  It would be 3 or 4 years from now if it happened.

Anyway.  

The table is seated, and the server approaches the table, asks if they’d like still or sparkling water. 

They order sparkling.  She returns.  

She sets one of the water bottles on the table so she can pour, and one of the men starts to pour the water into the wine glasses on the table.   

In 10 seconds every wine glass is full. 

Of water.

The water glasses are empty. 

She looks at the table and walks away.  

And immediately comes to tell me what happened.

The rest of the meal went off flawlessly.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

When you enter the lobby, you see the following:

A door to the women’s restroom.

A curtained door leading to the dining room.

A barn door that says private.  

Every night someone says, how many people can be seated in the private dining room?

I answer differently every night.

The truth is, the door marked private, is the door to my tiny, closet of an office.  I don’t spend any time there as it’s so small and has a shelf to work on, at counter height.  

It has a phone and lots of crap and is a catch all for everything that doesn’t have a home.  

At least 7 or 8 times a night, a man slides the door open looking for a place to pee.  

I’m dreading the night someone drunk doesn’t realize it’s not a bathroom and just does their business.

Don’t think that’s likely?

At my last job we had to padlock the banquet supply closet because the banquet team came in one day to discover someone had relieved themselves on the clean dishes in the closet. 

I’m waiting for the day. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

A post I wrote months ago!!!!

I answer the phone tonight around 5:15. It’s busy.

A guy says, hey do you have room for 4 tonight.

I say, I’m sorry I won’t have any tables for 4 tonight.

He says, what about at the bar.

I repeat that I won’t have any room for 4 tonight.

He says, what about for a GREAT regular.  

I think to myself.

He has no idea who he is talking to, so he is not a regular at all, let alone a great regular. Anyone who eats with us regularly would have said, hey Jeff any chance you could get 4 of us in tonight?

Instead, he asked for a GREAT regular.

I apologized and said that I couldn’t. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Remember a couple of weeks ago, when I wrote about people who tip on the remaining balance of gift card transactions?  

Tonight, I’m at the host stand when a server comes to me and shows me her credit card receipt.  It’s for a $150 dollar check, with a $30 dollar tip.  

She is annoyed.  Pissed.  Disappointed.  

It doesn’t help that we are slower than anticipated so everyone is going to have a sour night.

I apologize for them. 

I look at the reservations for the rest of the night.  She is slated to have one more table.  I ask her if she wants to take a cut and go home.  

She does.  

She is out of the building in about .0005 seconds.  

About an hour later the phone rings.  

A man is on the other line and says, I just had dinner there and when I got home, I realized that I tipped on the credit card receipt based on the amount after I used a gift card.  I don’t think I tipped enough.  

He asks if the server can change the tip amount.

I explain that she is gone for the night, but suggest I get his credit card information, and let her ring in a soda the next day and add the gratuity.

He says of course.

I get his information.  

Thank him for his kindness and hang up.

It’s nice when people do the right thing, when so often they don’t.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Last night I answer the phone and a man’s voice says:

Hello, I’m calling from the New York Times.  I am writing a review of the restaurant and can’t seem to find a copy of your menu on your website.

I say, that is right we don’t have a copy of the menu on our website.

He huffs and says, WELL.  Then I guess I won’t write the review then.  

I thought to myself as I laughed at the absurdity of it all, that the Times would be more successful if their reporters didn’t give up so easily.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Last Wednesday a couple come in because they have a gift card they can’t access.  

I explain that I am on the door, and therefore can’t step away to log in and find the card for them.  

They are more than a little annoyed, almost to the point of being rude.  Unfortunately, I can’t abandon the door to go to my office and look it up.  

I give the woman my email address and ask her to email me a copy of the receipt, that it won’t take long and I’ll email it back to them. I take her number to call just in case I don’t get the email.

Fast forward to Saturday, and no email.  So I call, and speak with her.  I explain that I didn’t get an email, it’s not in my spam folder and ask if she can send it again.

She says she will.

Fast forward to today.

I get in and there is an angry message from her.  

I had a meeting with Chef today, so I didn’t sit down to do messages until around 3:30.  I’m in the process of returning calls when the phone rings.

It’s her again.

She IS PISSED.

I explain that I have yet to get an email from her and ask if she’s sure that she didn’t get the email address wrong.

She then angrily say, I didn’t email it to you.  I texted it to the number you’ve been calling from. 

I explain to her that I am calling from a landline, that it can’t get texts and that she’d have to email it to me if she wanted me to find the card and send it back to her.

She is still angry, but about 4 minutes later the email landed in my box.  I’ll send her the card tomorrow.