Six

Squish

Uh-uh

Cicero

Lipschitz!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

A server at the new restaurant came to me tonight to let me know table 21 was not happy and wanted to speak with me.  

A little back story.  

We were struggling at the new restaurant at the bar tonight.  The bartender was on the bar alone.  Was new.  And he struggled.  

He also killed it and I thought did a great job, considering the obstacles.  

However.

Tonight, was not our best service.

To be honest, no one was close to having their best service.  

I struggled to stay positive.  

Table 21 started off with a bang when their ticket for their drinks never printed at the bar.  I know this because I was at the bar, expoing keeping the bartender on track.  

We discovered this at 30 minutes.

It probably would have been caught earlier, if I had not been on the bar, nor had the server had a drop in blood sugar and excused herself for about 15 minutes.  

When it was discovered that the drinks were missing.  It was corrected and I delivered the last drink, where I was told that if the bartender was struggling that perhaps I should help him instead of just standing there. 

I replied, I am helping and here you go.  

We also realize at this point that we are out of the beer that they ordered and I had to substitute a different beer.  

Fast forward 40 minutes. 

Their food is going out.

Except that we have discovered, that the whole fish that they have ordered is not the fish that we prepared. 

We know this in the kitchen, but not before the food has already been taken to the table.

It’s at this point that I’m told they’d like to speak with a manager!!!

I go to the table and say I understand that we have a problem with someone’s order.  

And that is in fact when the train crashed into the barricade and came off the rails in the biggest way.  

The woman at seat three begins. This experience has been a disaster since the beginning.  We had to wait for 40 minutes for our drinks and you didn’t offer to buy them, barely apologized and then you didn’t have the beer that we’d waited for.  This was made worse by my not helping the bartender make drinks and my watching them from across the room.  

She continues that I should have visited the table, when they tried to order the whole fish, and was told we only had one and she had to order something else.  

NOW, the food has arrived and not only have they had to wait, but it’s the wrong food.  

I apologize and say that I’m here to see what the person would like in place of the whole fish and that I’ll be taking care of the order.

And she says, we won’t be paying for any of this meal.  After the service we’ve had.  

And I explain that if they eat their entrees, then they’ll pay for their entrees and that that’s not how life works.  

I should mention this is a 6 top.  

Because the minutes I finish speaking 6 people begin to shout at me about what a despicable human being I am.  I should be embarrassed to call myself a manager.  That I suck (this has become a go to mantra for people who don’t like me).  That I’m bad at my job.  That I’m this and I’m that.  

I interrupt and say once again.  

If you eat your entrees then you’ll pay for your entrees.

And the man at the head of the table says, OR WHAT? 

I explain, that they’ll either pay the check or I’ll make it a police matter.  

They all explode again.

When they calm down, I’m told, fine, we won’t eat our entrees.

I think to myself, I must be talking to five year old’s, because they are being have worse than a five year old. 

I say great.  You are finished here.

I get them the check and the man at the head of the table, informs me that he’s not paying the check because I didn’t comp all the food.  

I say to him, you at the apps, there was nothing wrong with the apps.  You will pay the bill.

And he rips it up and throws it at me.  

I explain, once again, that he needs to pay the bill.

They begin to shout at me again.  You suck. Your bad at your job?  You call yourself a manager.

Oh.

And throughout all of this they are telling me that they live here.

I finally ask what that has to do with anything, and they begin yelling again.

Oh.

And throughout all of this, they are shouting that they are in customer service, they have worked in hospitality, and that they have been managers.

And I think to myself, that if they act this way after working in the business they must have been horrible before.  

I say to the man at the head of the table once again, you need to pay the check.  

And I walk away.

The server walks by a few minutes later and I ask if they have paid the check.

She says no, but they’ve tipped her.

I tell her to drop the check again, and then decide to comp the food.  I give her the new check tell her to collect payment and then not to go back to the table.  

They pay.  

And she lets me know this.

About 6 or 7 minutes later, they get up to lead.  

And this is when the train that hit the wall and came off the rails explodes in to tiny little pieces. 

As they leave, I’m sitting on a stool in the lobby.

And they begin to yell again.  You are the worst.  You should be ashamed.  You should be embarrassed.

And I finally say, You know what?  I’d love to live your charmed life.  A life so perfect that waiting for a drink and food is the worst thing that happens, thus making it so bad you can’t stand it.

And they begin to shout again, and then a man gets in my face and calls me a p*ssy.

And I stand up and tell him to get out of my restaurant before I call the police.

And they challenge me on this and I look at the host and say, dial 911.  

They are still telling me all the horrors that my existence creates. 

They call me a fat bastard as they leave the building.

And they continue when they are in the parking lot.

And then I realize that I have a posse behind me, as the shucker and the executive sous chef are standing behind me in case this goes south.  

We are inside, looking out when I realize that the assholiest of them all is taking video.  

So I wave at him like Forest Gump.

And he says something so I go outside, and ask him what he is doing.

And he tells me he is collecting documentation.

And I ask of what.

And he says of the amazing meal we had.

And continues to yell at me, and ridicule me, and call me names.  

In the course of all this, they have said, that they are going to post on social media.   They have told me they aren’t going to leave until I give them the owners name and number.  They tell me they are going to the old restaurant and pound on the door tomorrow till they get to see him.  That they are going to make up fake profiles so they can leave hundreds of bad reviews.  They are going to tell all of their friends how horrible I am.  

Finally, the valet has their car and they keep mouthing and mouthing and mouthing.  

Then another 6 top walks out and it turns out they know the first 6 top, so I ask how their meal and service was and they said great.  And I have a 15-minute conversation about the restaurant and Walker’s restaurant and how Adam and I love it but we can’t go because they are closed on Tuesday’s too.  And if I had to guess, he was a little embarrassed by his friends.  

Finally, everyone is gone. 

I breathe.

And everyone wants to know if I am okay.

And I think to myself, this wasn’t even the worst I’ve experienced.  

I will say that being called a bastard is a trigger for me, and I hate it worse than being called a f*g.  

I hear from Joe, the chef, that the shucker and the bartender had come in to the kitchen to let him know what was going on, and that the shucker was ready to fight if it came to that.  

It felt good to know I had tough guys behind me.

Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to figure out how to link p*ssy, fat, bastard into the Cell Block Tango song from Chicago.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

When you bring home 8 hours of work.

On your only day off.

I was almost in tears driving at 2:30.

I’ll get it done.

But I won’t be seeing fireworks.

More on all of this later.

But do the right thing now!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

A whole page of things ti write about.

But it’s 3:17.

I got home 20 minutes ago.

It was a long fucking day.

My favorite thing tonight was:

A three top comes in.

A man, a woman and their three year old.

They ask if we have a kids menu.

They are told no.

They see that we have pasta on the menu and ask if they can get that with with just butter.

They are told no.

And the woman becomes outraged.

Outraged I tell you.

She gives the server a continuous earful all during dinner.

At one point I walk by and I hear her say we’ll get you something to eat when we get home.

She tells the server she’s going to leave a very not nice review.

I make sure to be at the door when they leave.

How was your dinner tonight?

Fine!

And she goes out the door.

Then she reopens the door and tells me we are not welcoming to children. And that we should have a kids menu. And there is no way we’ll last with nothing for kids it.

I tell her I’m confused as we are not out of any items on our menu tonight and there is a whole menu of items they could have fed their daughter.

She’s having none of that and says we’ll be out of business soon if we don’t cater to families.

And she leaves.

And I tell chef he should be concerned about his 5 year old restaurant going out of business since we don’t have a kids menu.

I’d like to speak to the manager.

We opened tonight.

And this was our oyster sign.

An oyster I’ve never heard of.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

A man walks in and says, Hi, my name is mark. My mother lives at 56 Langford road. And we have a reservation tomorrow for 7 people. We have been coming to this restaurant for forty years and we need to change our reservation from 7 to 8.

I think to myself.

Is your mother’s address important?

Is the fact that you’ve been in the building before important?

And I’m sorry but the most we can accommodate is 7.

He then insists on looking at the dining room.

Comes back and asks why the table in the corner won’t work.

I explain that it only seats 7.

He grunts and leaves.

Meanwhile a server from downstairs appears saying that a woman is insisting we accommodate her 13 top walk in party.

She won’t take no for an answer.

I walk downstairs and say no.

She turns and leaves.

No argument.

I go back upstairs and a woman walks in and announces she is going to the bar.

I explain that we take reservations and the bar is booked for the evening.

She looks at the bar with mostly empty seats and says am I to believe all these seats are not available.

I assure her they are not.

90 minutes later she appears again, saying she’d eaten downstairs.

She walks in and takes one look at the bar, comes back and says I thought you said the bar was full. All the seats are empty.

I want to be a smart ass and say that’s not what I said but instead I say, the bar is empty because we are controller seating in the bar, the restaurant, etc since everyone is new. We want to ensure every one is having a great experience.

She grunts at me and says you could have said that in the first place.

I think to myself you wouldn’t have accepted that.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

This is a public service announcement.

Unless you are at a salad restaurant in NYC.

Unless you are at chipotle.

Unless you are at Burger King.

The menu is not a list of ingredients for you to pick and choose from.

It’s happened a lot but tonight a table ordered a plate of thinly sliced tomatoes, with fresh herbs, an Italian vinaigrette, kosher salt, and avocado.

The server came to ask what they should say.

I said, ask them show you on the menu what item they were ordering.

They asked if I was serious.

I said no.

But do tell them we can’t accommodate the request.

Often, if they are ballsy enough to order Ike this they’ll ask why not, as you have all the ingredients.

Our restaurant services 160 seats.

If we say yes to you, then we have to say yes to the other 159 people.

If we said yes to 159 people you’d get your food in about 90 minutes. Because every ticket has things we don’t have readily available in a station ready to use.

The same is true at the bar.

Don’t order a drink with fresh cucumbers or jalapeño unless it’s on the menu. Someone has to go fetch the items, cut the items and make the drink.

Now 159 other people are waiting for their drinks they ordered 6 hours ago.

Order off the menu.

They way it comes.

And at most ask to leave out an item.

But don’t build your own menu unless the menu says build your own burger, salad, burrito.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I was called to a table last night because two of the guests hated the lobster roll.

I get there and they tell me that they are Mainers and this is NOT a lobster roll. Explaining that a lobster roll either has butter or Mayo and definitely does not have tarragon in it.

I ask them to explain.

And they continue that everyone wants a traditional lobster roll.

And I explain that the lobster shack next to us has a traditional lobster roll.

And.

That 7,429 restaurants in a 30 mile radius including McDonald’s has a traditional lobster roll.

We are not those restaurants.

We respect those restaurants.

We enjoy those restaurants.

I had a fried fish sandwich from next door last week.

But we are different.

And.

The menu tells you that we are different.

Embrace the difference.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

The locals continue to pour in.

An endless stream.

At 5:30 a woman walks in.

She says they are going to sit at the bar.

The host explains that we have reservations at the bar.

The woman says, that’s not possible our website says we don’t take reservations.

I interrupt and assure her that it does not say that.

She doubles down.

I assure her that that’s not the case.

She doubles down again and says we’ll since you just opened, and it’s empty in here I’m sure you’ll have room and she goes toward the bar.

I stop her and explain that although we are empty in 30 minutes we won’t be and therefore can’t accommodate her.

She is not pleased and storms out.

An hour later two men walk in, push past the host and say they are going to the bar.

The host says we take reservations at the bar.

They replay, that’s okay we are locals and we are just going to have a drink.

I interrupt and say, we take reservations at the bar. We are booked. You can’t sit at the bar.

They get pissed and leave.

Meanwhile a man is sitting at the bar who arrived at 4:45. He assured us he was just having a drink.

It’s now after 6:00 and he’s nowhere close to leaving.

He stayed over 2 hours.

Just for a drink.

And the stories continue.

But I’m a local part 2.

The most we can seat at our new restaurant is 7.

We have one table that seats 7.

One table that seats 6.

The rest seat less.

All day long I say no to requests for bigger parties.

From friends of the restaurant.

They usually end up at the other restaurant.

But a few people have pushed back.

But weve been bringing our family to this restaurant for years.

Tomorrow I get to tell someone that that can’t be true.

Because we opened 8 days ago.

You went to a different restaurant.

That restaurant cease to exist last fall.

That restaurant would seat a party of 15.

Our restaurant won’t.

That restaurant had rats living in the walls.

Our restaurant does not.

That restaurant charged 12 dollars for an allagash beer.

Our restaurant does not.

So. No.

You have not been coming for years.

And please do not be rude to my staff to prove your point.

The answer is no.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Day 7 is in the books at the new restaurant.

The last two days have been special.

I no longer know everyone in the dining room.

And every second person that walks in let’s me know they are locals.

They then ask questions about the restaurant.

Not one of these people knows me.

Which means one of about a half dozen things.

They are local but just moved in last Tuesday.

They are local but the don’t venture off their street.

They are local but have a bad memory.

They are local but don’t like steak.

They are local but NEVER eat out.

They are local but only for three weeks a year.

Here’s the thing.

I’ve worked in this town for 7 of the past 10 years.

So.

And for the last two less than a mile from you.

And.

I have missed at best 15 days in the last two years.

So I’m pretty sure you should at least know my face.

But you were strangers tonight.

I was discussing this with someone who is not a local but does have a home here. She was in with her family. They dine with us several times a month when they are in town.

I said all of the things above.

And I mentioned that not only would you know me, but I’d know you.

I’d know your kid was just accepted to BU. I’d know your house had electrical problems a month ago. I’d know the car you drove to Boston has a leak in the roof. I’d know you’re about to have your fourth boy and are no longer going to try for a girl. I’d know you were the captain of the Harvard football team and your parents were both addicts. I’d know you have known your wife since 8th grade.

I mentioned this and included the part of missing fifteen days.

And the son said, does that include when you had your gall bladder removed.

And with that proved my point.

And if you do live down the street. And you don’t eat out. You are not our demographic.

Eating with us once a year will not keep us on business.