I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Hello.

The first weekend of our Christmas celebration is in the books.

Truly the easiest of these I’ve done and this was my 6^th one.  

Tonight, was not as fun as last night.  I didn’t know many people who were in tonight.  No one was being fun.  And tables weren’t turning.  

But guess who did show up tonight?

Go on.  

I’ll wait.  

You guessed it.

Mable.

The one who said she didn’t make a reservation.  The one who’s reservation I cancelled because she said she hadn’t made one.  

Thank god she showed up with 5 people instead of 8 as we barely made that work.  

My host has no idea what happened.

I have no idea what happened.

We told Mable, and she has no idea what happened.  

Alas, it makes a great story, so we’ll go with that.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

While I was in NYC, I had our new host call all of our large party reservations for the weekend to confirm them.

She calls a girl we’ll call Mable.  She is a regular of sorts.

When she answers the host says she’s calling to confirm her party and Mable says:

Uh.  I don’t have a reservation for Saturday.   I never made that.   Surely it’s someone else’s reservation.

And here’s the thing.

I was the one who made the reservation.

She was in two weeks ago.

She stopped on her way out to make the reservation.  We had a conversation about the table she wanted, the server she wanted and I double checked in when she left.

In fact, I scolded a server about it, because the server said she’d be happy to wait on her, when it wasn’t possible to make that happen.

But when she was called, she denied ever making the reservation.

So.

Either I’m losing my mind.

Or.

She is gas lighting me.

Or.

She was really drunk when she was in last.  

I’m going to go with gas lighting.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s late. 

Like 2:00 a.m. late.

I told myself on my drive home I’d be in bed by 1:00 a.m.

That has clearly not happened.

I had a day.  A fucking day.  

So.

Let me tell you about it. 

First, anyone on Facebook who reads these posts will already know this, but for the rest of you Adam and I made a quick trip to NYC on Monday.  We try to go once a year and get our theater fix.  

It was a great trip, filled with all the shows, all the food and all the stress you can imagine.

First.  

We argued about the path to take to NYC.  

I should have stuck to my guns because 15 minutes on the Merrick Parkway, we were rear-ended right in front of the police who had stopped to report on a different accident.  While we were waiting to be processed another car rear-ended a police officer on his way to assist.  It was a shit show to say the least.  

It also caused us to be behind schedule for our dinner reservations.  

But alas we made it on time. 

Fast forward 24 hours.

We are in a cab headed toward the theatre.  The cab driver seems to be taking the longest, slowest route possible.  We finally get 2 avenue blocks away, we insist he stop, we pay, and we sprint to the theater.  

Fun fact:  An overweight, middle-aged man approaching 60 should not run. 

Fun fact:  When an overweight, middle-aged man, approaching 60 sprints to a theater, he remembers why he stopped running in the first place. 

Fun fact:  My left knee was the size of Nebraska when I got up to leave the theater at the end of the show.  

For the next two days, I limped everywhere.  Adam was a champ, and kept telling me I was doing great, but even when you are now taking cabs everywhere, there is still so much walking to do.

Another fun fact:  Tough Mudders are easier to navigate than Broadway theaters.  The show we saw last night, we had tickets in the mezzanine.  We get there only to find out that the only restrooms are in the basement.  Down three flights of stairs.  Try doing that with a bum knee.  I was convinced I was going to tumble to the bottom any second.  I did not get up to pee at intermission.  It was just too much.  

Originally, we were supposed to drive to Boston on Thursday to see a show Thursday night.  But said show was cancelled.  

So, being the crazy people we are, we booked another round of tickets in NYC on Thursday.  We were going to drive back this morning, but I was worried about getting to work late today, so at 10:00 last night, we got into our car and headed north.  

The trip was uneventful. 

Until, we stopped to pick up my car at the park and ride.  I got into my car, turned the key and it went click, click, click.  

The fucking battery was dead.  

At fucking 4:00 in the morning. 

We drove home.  

We climbed into bed at 5:00 a.m.  

5.5 hours later the alarm went off.  

I took a $60 Uber 45 minutes away to meet AAA at my car to get a new battery.  The mechanic was waiting for me when I got there.  It should have taken 20 minutes, but he was a TALKER.  45 minutes later, I was on my way to work.

And the moral of this story is that with all of that, it was still a less stressful trip than my trip to Kentucky.  

With all of that, when I got to work, I was in the best of all moods.  

And it only got better from there.

The staff was in a great mood.  The chef was in a great mood.  The guests were in great moods.  

This weekend, is also the first weekend of the Christmas celebration in our little town.  About 10,000 people, if not more, sweep in to enjoy adult beverages, in the name of Jesus.  

I know we still have tomorrow to go, but universally, we all agreed that this was the smoothest, Christmas weekend had gone for all of us no matter what restaurant we’d worked in.  

One of my servers called me the Governor tonight.  

I literally floated around the dining room, shaking hands, welcoming people, and chatting about everything possible.  I knew about 50% of the people who came in tonight.  And the people I didn’t know are now new friends.  

The meatball lady was in. 

The service dog lady was in. 

The pilot was in.  

The real estate family was in.

I really knew so many people.  

And we didn’t turn anyone all day.  We found room for everyone who called.  I figured out a way to seat 5 people at the bar.  I said, yes, yes, yes all day.

It really was an amazing day.

So please.  Send good vibes that Saturday is equally smooth.  

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.