I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

At 5:35, two women walk into the lobby. I greet them and ask if they have a reservation.

They do not.  

They are there to buy a gift card. And have a drink.

I explain that I can get them a gift card, but the only two seats I have at the bar are for 2 people who will be in at 5:45.

I send a food runner in to process the gift card purchase.  

I wait at the door.

They keep asking if they can get a drink. To be honest they are being annoying.

Can we please.? 

We’ll be fast.

On. And On. And On.

Annoying.

Finally, one of them says, what if it’s because I have a broken heart?  

I tell her I’ve heard that before.  

It’s 5:40 and they are still begging.

At one point the one with a broken heart says it again.

I say, seriously….do you have a broken heart?

She says, not me, my boyfriend. He’s having open heart surgery on Monday and I need a drink.

I am moved. I take them in. Seat them at the two empty seats. Tell the bartender they are going to have a quick drink because they have a broken heart.  

Of course, the guests that reserved those seats come in 45 seconds later.  

I tell them I can get them seated in just a few minutes.

They get comfortable in the lobby.  

I ask if they are local or from away. A question I ask a million times a night. 

They are from Mass, but have a house here.  

We chat, they ask if I’m from here.  

I tell them the 30 second version of my story.  

I grew up in Kentucky. Graduated from college and spend the next 30 years moving ever couple of years. Kansas City, Atlanta, Kentucky, Cincinnati, Alabama, Cincinnati again, Iowa, California, New York City twice, Oklahoma.

Now Maine.  

They ask what my favorite place I’ve lived is…

I tell them hands down Maine. I follow up by saying, I love living here, I love our house, but I told my partner last week we need to move the furniture because I’m getting bored.  

We continue chatting.  

Soon it is 6:00. I go in and let the girls know the guests are here.  

They come out 45 seconds later.  

I tell the girls that I appreciate their coming out and that I appreciated their being nice.  

They look at the couple on the couch and thank them profusely for their patience.  

I tell them goodbye and then take the waiting couple in.

I say, the girls had a broken heart and needed a little comfort.

And once again, everyone lived happily ever after. 

That happened to me a couple of nights ago.  

3:00 a.m. No idea what I’d forgotten but couldn’t get the nagging feeling out of my mind.

I finally figured it out today.

I had not closed the books on the three weeks we’ll be closed over Christmas.  

Got to work and discovered we already had reservations that week. One for Christmas Eve.

Whoops.  

I got to call and disappoint people.  

Luckily everyone was understanding.

Two of the tables rebooked.  

One table for the Sunday before Xmas.

The other table for tomorrow. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s often pointed out that I make fun of people or are hard on our guests.  I don’t mean to be and I don’t mean to make fun of them.  A lot of it is just the frustration of working too many hours, in a small town, with people who can expect a lot of us.  

However.

That’s not the story I’m telling tonight.

Tonight, is a good story.

At 8:00 a woman walks in.  I greet her and ask if she has a reservation.  She says yes, but that she is waiting for a friend.  She says she would like to wait on him before she is sat.  

Her reservation is for the bar.  

About 10 minutes later she is still waiting.

Meanwhile, a lone diner comes in looking for a seat at the bar.  I explain that we take reservations at the bar and that I won’t have any seats available for the rest of the evening as I still have other reservations to coming in.    

I offer him a table but he wants to sit at the bar.

Then the woman, who is waiting speaks up and says, He can have our bar seats.  We don’t mind a table.

I ask her if she was sure, and she said yes, they wouldn’t mind a table at all.

So, I seat the gentleman.

Her friend arrives about 5 minutes later.

They are seated.

And everyone lived happily ever after tonight.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

For those of you paying attention, I have not posted in over a week.  

I went on vacation last week.  

I went out of town, anyway.

I went home to Kentucky, for the first time since my mom passed in September 2018.

The trip started great.  Smooth travel to Boston, to the airport.  Smooth flight to Cincinnati.  Smooth drive to home from the CVG airport.  

The trip kind of veered from that point.  

Adam and I ate at some of the best restaurants in Lexington.  We learned that we are spoiled by the level of service we get here in the northeast.  In about 8 meals out, we got great service only twice.  But we’ll get back to that.  

It was great to visit with family.  

It was great to go to Keeneland.  Adam and I picked the winners of 6 out of the first 7 races. Of course, we bet conservatively, so we didn’t win big.  We ended up 30 bucks up so we considered that a success.

The most insane thing that happened on the trip was that my aunt, whom I took out to lunch on Wednesday, to one of her favorite restaurants, passed away in her sleep very early Saturday morning.  Needless to say, it changed the tenor of the trip.  I had gone there to say hi to everyone and give them big hugs, and instead I said goodbye to one of them for the last time.  

I’m glad that I got to see her, tell her I love her, and share a day with her one more time.  But it sucked having to say goodbye so soon after seeing her.  

It also put a serious damper on the mood of everyone.  

And why is this my post for tonight?

Well, I just wrote an email to the editor of the local newspaper in Kentucky.

Why you ask?

Well about 6 years ago, I gave my aunt a subscription to the local paper.  She would read it cover to cover twice a week.  And today I called to cancel the subscription, which will renew this weekend.  

But.

First, I was told that I’d have to continue to pay till the end of the year, even though the subscription has been month to month since I signed up for it. 

Then. 

I was asked why I was cancelling someone else’s subscription.  I tried to explain to know avail.  

So tonight, I logged in to my account and the subscription cancel option was to let your credit card expire, or to call the newspaper, which had already proved futile.  

So, I addressed an email to the editor of the paper.  I explained the situation and I hope that it is taken care of before the subscription is renewed again.  

I was nice.

I’ll keep you posted.   

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Actually, me the writer would like to speak to someone, anyone who can stop the insanity.

The best part of the story I’m about about to share, is that a server had graciously agreed to help host tonight as I was on the door by myself and she was witness to the insanity.   I’m pretty sure it cleared up any belief that the stories I’ve been sharing all summer aren’t 100% factual, and just as outrageous as I say they are.

Here we go.

The night began like any other Saturday night.

We sat a million people at as we always do at 5:00.  

The push continued.  

5:30 is equally as big.

At 5:23 a man walks in and says hello.  I ask if he has a reservation and he says yes, it’s under Smith.  

At the same time this happens, he recognizes the server helping me host, and gets super excited.

I hope you are waiting on us tonight.  We love you.  We are in one of the private rooms tonight.  

He looks at me and says, We are in one of the private rooms tonight, right?

I say, I’m sorry, but unfortunately you are not.  We have you at a regular table tonight.

At this point, his head explodes.  

He gets animated and says, but I made these reservation over a month ago.  Does that not count for anything.  I made these reservations over a month ago.  Does that not count for anything.  I made these reservations over a month ago, does that not count for anything.

This exchange went on for about 525,600 minutes, or so it felt.  

He then demands to know exactly why I’m not willing to accommodate his request.  

I explain, at least I try to explain, that it’s because they are just 4 people and unfortunately, we are limited in areas we can put 5 to 8 people and since the private room can hold more people, I’ve had to book a 5 top in the room instead.  

He immediately tells me that this is bad business.  He follows that by insisting it shouldn’t matter how big the party is, it should be based solely on who requested the room first.

He assures me that they’ll spend far more money than the five top and I have made a very poor business decision.  

He gets even more agitated now.

Raising his voice.  As always for the people waiting next to him not for his or my benefit.  

He then demands to know exactly where I AM seating them.  I explain that it will be at a regular table.  

He becomes more agitated.  It better not be in the middle of the dining room.  I will NOT sit in the middle of the dining room.

His table is not in the middle of the dining room, however, for a moment I considered changing him to a table that was.

His wife gets involved, it better not be in the middle of the dining room we WILL NOT sit in the middle of the dining room.  

They all stand there staring at me, and I say, we’ll get you seated as quickly as we can.

They take a seat on the sofa in the lobby.

But they do that thing where they keep commentin.  Loud enough for everyone to hear, but NOT directed directly at me.  

They continue, get louder and louder.  

Finally, the wife says, we will definitely not be coming back.

I interrupt and say excuse me, if you’d like I can cancel your reservation, with no penalty, and you can dine some place you’d be happier with.

They insist that they’ll stay. 

At 5:37 they are seated.

He again says on his way in, that I’ve made a bad business decision.

When they leave a woman sitting on the other sofa says, you were very good at holding your ground while being polite.  I’m not sure I could have done that.  

The first thing they do is let the server know how disappointed they are that the server they saw in the lobby is NOT waiting on them.

Fun fact:  It’s never fun for anyone to be told they are disappointed that you aren’t the one they want, whether, boyfriend, girlfriend, child, or server.

I go on about my evening.

The second turn was hard.  No one was leaving.  NO ONE.  

It’s 7:30 and I had four couples to seat at the bar and nowhere to put them.  Five 4-tops that were on time, with no tables open for them.  

And I’m greeting, apologizing, trying to keep people out of the bar, when I look up and there is a man standing in front of me.  At first, I have no idea who he is, but then it dawns on me, and the next thing I know he has his hand above his head, with his finger pointed at me, screaming:

YOU SUCK!!!

Excuse me?

YOU SUCK!!!

I look at him again, not believing what is occurring in front of me.

He points at me again and screams, “YOU SUCK!!!”

I never argue in the moment very well.  

However, after almost 10 years, I don’t lose my temper about it.  

I look at him and say I assure you sir that I am not bad at me job.

True story I almost said, You are right, SIR.  I do suck.  I’m quite good at it too.  I can give you references if you like.  

I did not, although when I shared this with the server hosting with me, she couldn’t stop laughing. 

He then shouts at me that he spent a ton more money that the table in the room did and they should have been given that table when they asked for it.

He then announces to the room that they are never coming back.

I assure him that we are perfectly fine if he never comes back.

And he leaves.

And I look up and everyone is staring at me.

However, the looks they were giving me, were I’m sorry you had to deal with that.  What an asshole.  

I get back to work. 

Tables are have started to open up.

I go about the business of seating people.  Thanking each group for their patience.

They all go out of their way to say something nice.

It’s not like we waited forever.

It was just a few minutes.

I’d wait an hour more to eat here.

The last group to be seated a 4-top at table 21, went even further, saying that they understand what dealing with people like that can be like because they have a 4 year old and a 2 year old.  I laugh and say, that it was all about his being told no to a request.  

They laugh, commiserate some more and are seated.

Two hours later, one of them arrives, with to-go boxes and he says to me, we’ve just had a lovely meal, and everything was perfect, so I guess this is the point in the night where I come out, yell at you, tell you that you suck and let you know that we are never coming back.

I assure him that this is the business model we follow.  

His friends join him, they are all super sweet.

The night ends.

Well sort of.  

This is the review he left tonight:

The host was very rude. I made the reservations over a month ago because we had a birthday celebration before our sister left for the winter. I requested one of the rooms. We were 4 and the very rude host said he chose a table of five for the room. That table arrived almost a 1/2 hour after us and left about a 1/2 hour before us. He was so rude I hope the restaurant loses business. We spent almost $500 there and have been there several times and spent as much. But we will never go there again. We had also loved the chefs previous restaurant.  But never again. The host was rude crude and socially unacceptable.

I bet he was super proud of that last sentence.  

I met get that put on my business cards as a tag line.  

I was actually not rude.  As witnessed by 2 people at 5:30. 

And 30 people at 7:30.

It was nothing more than his being told no.  

And fun fact.  

All of you!!!

Go to Resy.

If you know the name of my restaurant, do a search for a reservation.  The second sentence on the restaurant information page is:

Table requests cannot be guaranteed.  

The only way he’d have missed this is if he’d made the reservation over the phone, and he did not.

He was told NO.  

PS.  The other table was even better.  The timeline they describe is far from accurate, but the 5-top spent the same as the 4-top, were in and out in 90 minutes and tipped their server better.  

I’ll take the faster, nicer, more generous table any day of the week.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I need to hire a server, two hosts, and three food runners.  

Oh.

And an assistant manager.  

Yesterday, I posted all the ads.

And today Ashley applied.  

Ashley has applied to EVERY job posting I’ve made since 2013.

Every single one of them.

Twice, I invited her in to interview, thinking she might be a good fit.

That was in 2013/2014.

She never showed for her scheduled appointments.

Before COVID, I set up another interview with her, just to see if she showed.  

She did not.

I’m not exaggerating.

She has applied to every job I’ve posted since I became a manager in Maine.  

She has applied 7 times to my current restaurant.  

Her resume has not been updated since 2020.  

I wonder if it’s for unemployment benefits? 

I always think to myself, that I hope that she is okay.  

And wonder where she will finally end up finding employment. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I came home empty handed tonight.

Not one note taken at work during the shift.

I looked through my piles of notes, but nothing peaked my interest.

We’ll call this a good day and let it end there.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Tonight, I was at the door, when a 5-top was leaving.  I did my usual thank you for coming in, how was your meal, are you from here or away greeting.

I learn that they are indeed local, they love the restaurant, and come as often as they can.

I also learned that that the woman’s father tried to book a party of 10 a few weeks ago, and was upset that he would have had to use a pre-fixe menu and NOT be able to order off the full menu.

She goes on saying, and it’s a real shame too, because he was ready to drop a couple of thousand dollars on the tab.  

She then continues with he might not ever come back because of this policy.

Yes, I’m sure a man who loves our restaurant will never come back because of our large party policy. Especially the next time he’s only 4 people.

She finally, wants to know if there are ever any exceptions to the policy.

I assure her that even Chef’s close buddies have all been required to use our pre-fixe menu.  (This is true).  

She leaves, not quite satisfied with the answer.

The backstory.

For the summer of 2021, we said no to any party over 10.  We could accommodate them.  We had tables that could seat up to 48.  

What I’m about to say is true of almost any upscale restaurant.  

Large parties can wreak havoc on the flow, and efficiency of the restaurant.

Large parties stay longer and although they do spend a lot of money, if compared to a 3 four tops vs 1 twelve top, I’d bet the checks would average out to be similar.  

Except that I can seat 3 four-tops and they’ll be in and out in 2 hours.  A 12 top is going to be there for 3+ hours, unless they are given a time limit.  

The execution of a large party also slows down the bar, the kitchen etc.  

Send a bartender 12 different martinis and it’s going to be a few, especially since they have to go out together.  

Send them three tickets with 4 martinis each and they’ll get made faster.  Is it the same, yes, but not executed the same.  

The same is true for the kitchen.

However, the kitchen can be destroyed if a series of tables, with a large party hit the kitchen at the same time.  

Restaurants when they are planning out their menu, take in to account, where each dish comes from in the kitchen.  If there are 20 main courses, then 4 will come from grill, 4 from saute, 4 from ovens, 4 from salad, 4 from pizzas.  I’ve seen menus sent back to the drawing board, when too many items come from one area. 

All it takes is one 10 top ordering 10 dishes, all coming from the same area, to fuck the kitchen. 

Every more upscale restaurant I know, uses a different menu for parties, to ensure that when the order is placed, the burden is shared with the entire kitchen, not just one area.

For us, we use a pre-fixe menu that pulls one main course menu item from each area.  One item from the oven. One item from the Josper.  One item from the grill.  One item from the back.  We can serve 12 people, and each area only has to produce three items, as the food is served family style and shared like a thanksgiving dinner.  

Many people balk at this idea, like this woman’s father, BUT, after using this menu all summer it’s truly spectacular to serve.  The food is served on large boards that are placed in the center of the table, piled high with various meats, with huge carving knives to facilitate the cutting of the meat.  

Almost everyone I’ve sold this menu to, has been worried that it won’t be enough food and not one group has finished their entire offering.   Every group has walked out with bags of takeout.  

And they all go on and on and on about how fabulous the experience is.  

And.

Contrary to popular belief, if we served this food ala carte, not charging per person, but for what is delivered to the table for the amount of people dining, the price would be the same.  Chef and I were very cautious to not let people think we are taking advantage of them.  

While I understand her father’s disappointment, it’s for the sake of the restaurant, AND ALL of the diners that we use the pre-fixe party menu.  

And there will not be exceptions.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Adam enjoys reading my posts.

He’s actually been a great champion of encouraging this outlet.

About a month ago, he told me I needed to write extra posts so that I could share them when I am off and don’t sit down at my computer at the end of the night.

I finally discovered that I can schedule a post.

I probably already knew this, but now I know for sure!!!

Yay!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

There are no exact guidelines. There are probably no guidelines at all. The only thing I can recommend at this stage is a sense of humor, an ability to see things in their ridiculous and absurd dimensions, to laugh at others and at ourselves.

VACLAV HAVEL

October 9, 2022.

A day that will live in infamy.  

As I type this it is almost 2:00 a.m.

On October 10, 2022.

I have worked the last 18 weeks with only one day off.  

In that time, I’ve worked 108 days.

Almost 1,200 hours.  

To say it’s been a long summer would be the understatement of the century.

I dare say, no one has counted down the days more than I.  

Believe me when I say, I was a little giddy at 4:25 today when we gathered for pre-shift.  

I gave no notes.  I thanked everyone for the hard work they put in.  I asked Brynne if she had a story she could share with us.  

We adjourned at 4:35.

We opened the doors at 4:50 as we always do and here is the telling of my day.

Sunday, October 9, 2022 started like almost every other Monday that has come before it.  

You read that correctly.

Monday. 

The day when everything bad happens.  

So, 

I was not surprised when Chef came to me and asked me if we had a place to put his friend Mr. Smith.  6 people at 5:00.  I moved things around told him yes, as long as we could get the table back by 7:00.  

I was not surprised when Chef came to me 4 minutes later and asked if we had room for 8 at 5:00 for Mr. Jones.  I moved things around, said a prayer that I hadn’t fucked myself and said, we’ll make it work.  

We open the doors and:

The first people in at 4:50 were 5 adults, 1 child, and a baby in a car seat.  

I say hello, and they say, yes, we’d like a table for 6 on the patio please.  

First.  

We closed our patio three weeks ago.  

Second.

It’s Sunday, of a holiday, 3-day weekend.  We have been booked since before I got to work today, save for a couple of 2 tops and the tables we save for last minute people we know.  The tables we save no longer exist, because the Joneses and the Smiths are coming in.

I explain that I don’t have a table for them.

They look at me like I have four heads and huff out.  

Next comes a lady in a wheelchair and her two elderly companions.  I have someone take them to their seats.  

The person is back in five seconds, because the lady doesn’t like her table.

I offer another table.

They are back and say that won’t work either.

Finally, we get them settled at table 21.  

We get the rest of the 5:00’s seated. 

As the 5:30’s start to arrive a woman walks in and says, We’d like a table for 4 please.  

I ask if they have a reservation.

She assures me that they do.

But I can’t find it.

I ask for a phone number. 

Can’t find it.

Ask for a name.

Can’t find it.

It is quickly becoming my problem to solve; except I don’t have a way to solve it.  

In truth, we have more people on the books tonight, than last night.

I explain that there is nothing I can do, apologize and they leave.

They are followed by a woman and a man who approach the host stand, telling me they are 6.  I ask if they have a reservation.  

They don’t answer the question.

Instead, they say, we’ve been calling all day, but no one has answered. Therefore, it’s not their fault that they don’t have a reservation, and I need to fix the problem.

I apologize again and say, there is nothing I can do.  

They leave.  I see them outside speaking with their friends and I see a couple turn and march toward the restaurant with intensity in their step.

They march in, and demand a table.  Explaining once again, that it is my fault as they have been calling for days, to no avail. 

I love this line, because I AM THE PHONE guy.  If you call and leave a message, it’s me who gets it.  It’s me who returns the call.  It’s me who books the reservations.  

They continue to demand a table.  

I say, sorry, no can do.  I do offer them a table at 8:00, as the only resort.  They take it. 

Next comes the regular guest that I like the least.  The absolute least of anyone who comes to our restaurant.  I like her less that the guy who screamed about the stone in his spinach.  I like her less than the French Canadian who yelled at me about their 12-top reservation.  I like her less than the person who stole my bicycle when I was 10. 

She is the worst of the worst.

She goes around town, shitting on all the restaurants.

How do we know this?

 Because it’s a small fucking town.  

Two weeks ago, she was at a restaurant across town, talking shit about our restaurant, about me, about the food, the service etc.  And guess who she was walking to?  Chef’s best friend, who just nodded and smiled.  

Then she calls and wants favors.  

She had a reservation for 4 tonight at 7:15.

But she arrived at 6:45. 

She was told she would be seated at 7:15.

She sees the people at the table that will be hers leave, and comes and tells me she is going to head on over.

The table is dirty.  

And.  

I just sat her server 2 tables.

She has to wait.

I say to her, you are going to have to wait till 7:15.

And she gets pissy and DEMANDS to know why.

Seriously, can this Monday be over already.

Fast forward 30 minutes.

A man walks into the lobby and wants to know if he can sit at the bar.  

I explain that unfortunately, we have reservations coming in for the bar and it will be fully booked in about 15 minutes.

He then asks if he can stand behind the bar and have a drink.

And I explain that no, he can’t stand and have a drink.

He then very angrily says, I’D LIKE  TO SPEAK WITH A MANAGER!!!

I say great.  I’ll be right back.

And I take the I-pad.  And I circle the dining room.

I step back into the lobby and say, Hi.  I’m Jeff, I’m the general manager.  How can I help you?

I seriously did this. Ask Jen?

He continues.

He explains that they have been rushed through their entire meal.  And they wanted to have another drink but the server just dropped the check.  And they wanted to move to the bar to have another drink but now they are being told it doesn’t matter that they spent $200, they have to leave.

I apologize about the situation, but they can’t sit at the bar.  He asks if they can go back to their table and I say, of course.

And they do.

And I look at the floor plan.

They have been in the restaurant since 5:15. It’s 7:30.  They have not been rushed at all.

Everyone came early tonight.  Which is great when tables are moving.  But tables weren’t turning.  We sat a few people late, but all except 1 reservation was in by 8:10.

The last reservation arrived at 8:35 for their 8:30 reservation.  They were seated at the bar.  

It’s 8:35 and my last reservation of my long, long, long summer is seated.

I check on people in the dining room.

I hang out at the host stand.

People are starting to leave.

Around 9:00 the bartender comes to me to say that the couple at the bar had order bubbles.  He had poured it. They enjoyed it.  He moved on.  Now they have called him over to say that it was too sweet for their palette and didn’t want it.  

Here’s the thing with wine. 

The only way you can send back a bottle of wine, is if the wine is corked.  Yes, it happens.  We will gladly get you another bottle and everything is good.

But.

You don’t get to say this is not to my liking and I don’t want it any more.

The bartender says that he told them this.  They are keeping it.  

Fast forward to 9:30. 

The lead food runner comes to me at the host stand and asks if I want to keep all 6 food runners as they only have 1 ticket left.  

I say to keep three of them as we have a 4 top to go and that table has a large format steak.  

She explains further, that it’s actually the couple at the bar.  They have sent their main course back as they have decided they want to wait about 30 minutes before they eat.  

Seriously.

I send all but 2 of them home.

Around 9:45 the food for the couple at the bar is taken back out.    

The restaurant is emptying quickly.  

My last night, before 2 days off is approaching quickly.

The heat lights in the kitchen are turned off.

Side work is happening.  People are leaving.

I grab my computer, and take my place at the chef’s table. 

It’s approaching 10:00.

By 10:15 everyone in the restaurant is gone.

Except.

For the couple at the bar.

All of the staff is waiting. 

Unfortunately, the couple is seated right behind the chef’s table and our chef at the end of a long night, will often not come out if he doesn’t want to run into people.

He makes this choice tonight.

He lets me know he is leaving from the kitchen window.  

I hear the bartender clear the couple’s dishes.  I hear him ask about dessert.  They decline. 

I send word to the pastry chef that we are done with desserts for the night.

And they sit.

And they sit.

And they sit.

And they sit.

And they sit….

And I’m okay.  This happens.  

Of course it’s happening on the last night before 2 days off but

The end is in sight.  

It’s now 10:45.  

I’m sitting at the chef’s table, checking time punches and doing tips as it’s the end of the pay cycle and payroll will be processed tomorrow.  

And I hear the man say, Excuse me, are you the owner or a manager?

I turn and say excuse me?

He says, Are you the owner or a manager?

And I stand up, take the 1.5 steps to the bar and say, yes, I am a manager.

And he begins.

He explains, that they have been in town for two days and have kept hearing great things about the restaurant.  They were in a store yesterday and saw the Chef’s cookbook and bought it and continued to hear about how great the restaurant was.  

I’m hoping against hope about where the conversation is going…

He say he tried to make a reservation yesterday but we were booked.  

He called and called and called and called and called but to no avail.  

He finally got through last night and the only table we had was tonight for 2 seats at the bar, and so they booked them.

He says,  I booked the seats at the bar for tonight and we have to say that we are NOT pleased with the experience.

And what happens next can only be describes as surreal.

I feel my soul leave my body.  I am now watching the events unfold as if I’m a third party observing.  I am listening as I see my 4 servers standing at the other chef’s table listening as they do their cashouts.  I observe the bartenders across the way listening as they finish cleaning.  Everyone is listening as he continues.  

They arrived at the bar for their reservation and didn’t know they would be rushed out.

They feel as if the bartenders haven’t wanted them there since they were the last table.  

They order champagne and it wasn’t good.  The wife pipes in, it wasn’t cold.

I think to myself, you didn’t like it or it wasn’t cold?  Two different things.

They say, that they asked to finish their champagne before their meat arrived, but it arrived in five minutes.  At these prices they should not be rushed.  They sent it back and when it arrived the meats they’d ordered rare, were all well done. 

I’m still floating above the experience, thinking to myself.  Of course, this is happening.  Of course, it is.  How else would the summer of hell end.  It has to end this way.  It’s a horror movie where Jason or Michael won’t die.  It’s the Terminator who keeps coming back for more.  It’s the zombie who just keeps moving forward.  

And here it is.

Almost 11:00 on the last day of my very bad no good summer,  and I’m being scolded for a bad experience.

They continue.

He says, I own a restaurant and I’d want to know if people were having an unpleasurable experiences.

Of course he is in the industry.

(One of the servers listening said he almost yelled out BINGO, when he heard this, as this is the ultimate asshole bingo play),

Here is the thing.  

I am exhausted.  

I’m worn out.

I’m tired.

I’m thinking to myself as I see this unfolding.

I can either tell them to fuck off.

Or I can just be passive. 

I don’t have the energy for a confrontation.

So, I say I appreciate you letting us know about your experience.  We appreciate all feedback.  I will take this information to the chef/owner when we meet this week. 

What I didn’t expect was for them to want the aggression.

The man gets upset and says, as a business owner, I’d expect my manager to take this a little more seriously.   

The wife echos what he says, and repeats him.    

I just keep saying, I appreciate your comments.  I’ll discuss it with chef.  

Finally, I’m dismissed.  I turn.  Sit down.  And I put my hands together, like I’m praying and think to myself.  

What the fuck was this?

They get up and start to leave.

I have the food runner that is left follow them out to lock the doors.  It’s 11:00.

Jen, a server heads to the lobby as well.

She and Cayden are back and they let me know that couple knocked the toothpicks and container off the host stand because they were angry.

Then the bartenders let me know they also took their credit card slip.  So no tip.    I’m convinced they did this on purpose.

I have everyone assure me that they are gone.  That the doors are locked.  

And then.

I slam my hand down on the table as hard as I can and scream…as loudly as I can, “YOU CAN’T MAKE THIS SHIT UP? IS THERE ANY OTHER WAY THAT THIS FUCKING SUMMER COULD HAVE COME TO A GODDAMN END.”  

Then I stand up and scream even louder —  SHOTS FOR EVERYONE!!!

Everyone cheers.

The bartenders pour drinks for all of us.  

And we sit around for the next hour commiserating about life in the service industry.  

I was shaking I was so upset.  

Seriously though.

How fucked up is it, that the very last table, of the very last night, of the very last day, of the very last week, that we are open 6 days has to say, 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!