I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’m officially on fucking vacation!!!

We had a private event tonight, that went off without a hitch.

We finished end of year items, like inventory, cleaning etc.

I have 23 days of fun in front of me.

However, I told my staff that the day would end with someone wanting a gift card at 8:30 screaming and yelling at me at the door.

Because.

I got through the night without being yelled at.

My host, Kelsey was not so lucky.

Around 6:00, a woman calls to say that she has accidently purchased 3 gift cards when she only wanted 1. 

She demands that Kelsey call the manager, so that they can refund her purchase immediately.

We are in the middle of a party for 130 people.  There is no way, I can be pulled off the floor for this.  

And.

To be fair.  

We announced a week ago, that we’d be closed for our Xmas break from 12/17 to 1/11.  

My host says all of this, and the woman loses her shit.  

She begins to shout and curse and demand that we refund her immediately.  

The host holds her composure, tells the lady that she is sorry that his has happened, and that she needs to email me and that is the only way to get the refund.

The woman curses some more about how she is going to call her credit card company, she doesn’t want any of the gift cards now and that we have horrible customer service.  

The call is over.

I feel bad for the host.  

An hour or so later, I get the email.  

And the email, demands the refund, tells me all the ways we have horrible customer service, how awful we are, how no one would buy three cards with the same amount on the same day, that she doesn’t want any of the gift cards now, and that she will be taking this up with her credit card company tomorrow.  

I processed her refund tonight.

The purchase was from 4 days ago.  

And responded with the following email:

Hi Jane,

Your refunds have been processed.  All three of them.  The Gift Cards now have a 0 balance on them.  

I’d like to say that it’s never okay to berate and curse at an employee of any establishment.  Your use of the word fuck repeatedly with my staff is unacceptable.

I’d like to point out that the mistake was yours.  NOT ours.  We pride ourselves on providing excellent customer service.  And that was true today.  

There are many times people buy multiple gift cards, of the same amount, so it’s not implausible that you did so today.  

Perhaps now would be a good time to think about the reason for the season, why we give gifts in the first place, and know that my staff is amazing and should be treated with nothing but respect.  

I hope that you have a great holiday.

Best wishes.  

J

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

After my job at Day’s Inn, I worked at Wendy’s in Georgetown.  This would have been 1983 or so.  I worked there until my second year of college.  I have no idea why I didn’t learn to wait tables, or pursue something more lucrative.  

The Wendy’s is still there. 

But Wendy’s it was.  

Back in the day, the orders were all called over the microphone.  You had to keep up with 2 small fries, 3 large fries, 4 medium fries.  All the while, dropping more fries, trying not to sweat in the fryer.  

Fun Fact:  Only girls were allowed to work the cash register.  They felt that guys didn’t give the right vibe.  Occasionally, they’d let us work drive thru, but usually, only after the dinner rush.  

Fun Fact #2.  I was working at Wendy’s when they introduced the baked potato.  That was also the responsibility of the fry guy.  

I never graduated to grill.  It was hard.  And took talent.  Or so we were told.  

It is true the hamburgers are never frozen.  

Until they are past well done. 

Then they are tossed into pickle buckets and frozen to make chili.

  The chili is delicious.  But its gross to know how its made.    

At some point, my favorite manager Annie, who was a pint size, hellion, who chained smoked in the office, was transferred to the North Park location in Lexington.  

It is also still there.  

I followed her to Lexington.

By this time, I was in college.

Annie and I got a long great, until someone very high up, decided we should be open till 3:00 a.m.  I protested.  I told everyone else to protest.  You can’t stay open if no one will work.

I lost, and not long after I quit, because you can’t be at work till 4:00 a.m. and attend a 9:00 a.m. class the next day.  

However, this is not the point of the story.  

It’s 1984.

I’m in college.  

I knew I was gay.  I’d known for a long time.  

By then I’d had my first experiences.  

But.

No one knew.  

NO ONE.  

One night, I had the privilege of working the drive thru and a cute boy comes through with his friends.  He flirts with me.  I with him.  

He gives me his number and tells me to call him.  I call him 2 hours later.  

I ended up at his house that night.  

He was super cute.  Super sweet.  And lived with a drag queen.  

For the next 3 weeks, I spent a lot of time with him at his apartment.  And I’d stop by the Video Village, to help him close before we ended up back at his apartment.

Fun fact:  My friend Todd Lacy from UK was also working at Video Village at the same time, although we never met.  

Fast forward 3 weeks, and the cute boy lets me know that we will not be an item.  I’m too young and too inexperienced.  

Looking back, he was absolutely correct.

In the moment, I was crushed.  I’d never been broken up with before. 

I moped around for several weeks.

One night, after work at Wendy’s, I was sitting outside in the summer evening, sitting on the curb talking with a co-worked at 3:00 in the morning.  

We had just closed.  

As a teenager, and young adult,  I used to love late night chats.  

I remember vividly a very late-night chat on the Garth Elementary swings with my friend Jayne Sadlon, as we contemplated life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

I digress.  

So.

There I am, sitting on the curb with Tammy, my co-worker from Wendy’s and I felt the urge to say the words and I brought the conversation to a point, where I said to her, just so you know I’m gay. 

I was terrified.  I was a convinced she’d tell everyone.  I was convinced I’d be disowned. 

It was the first time I’d spoken the words out loud to anyone.  

But nothing happened.  

She confided that she too was gay. 

And we talked for about an hour. 

And I got into my car and drove home.

About 6 weeks later, at the beginning of my sophomore year of college, I pledged a fraternity.

Yes.  

I WAS IN A FRATERNITY.  

It’s true.  

With secret handshakes.  And chants.  And hazing.  

Brotherhood forever.  

Part of the hazing one weekend, was to do a scavenger hunt.

1 item on the list was to get the signature of the bartender of Johnny Angels, the gay bar in Lexington.  It too, is still there under the name of The Bar Complex.  

I forget who I was with, but in I went and marched up to the bar, and asked for the bartender’ss signature.

And a person to my right said, what are you two cuties doing in here.

I turn and it’s my brief boyfriend’s roommate.  

I do wish I could remember her name.  

I smile and say, doing a scavenger hunt with a look that could kill.

She very kindly told us to have fun, be safe and turned back to her drink.  

I will remember that moment of kindness forever.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Home Edition:

Xmas 2009: Our first Xmas together

Santa’s little helper at work…

The view of our apartment from the front door.

And the stocking were hung by the chimney with care…

A view from the kitchen…

We went a little crazy with the poinsettias.

Little known facts:  They are not poisonous.  90% of all poinsettias are exported from the US.  California grows the most.

It’s fun to cozy up next to the fire and sip hot chocolate…

Adam’s Memaw made him this stocking.

In the foreground the stocking I grew up with.  In the background the stocking Adam’s mom made for him.

My aluminum Christmas Tree with vintage ornaments.

I love my plastic vintage light-up snowmen.

Martha Stewart ain’t got nothing on us.  Check out this Frosty Winter garland.

I’m the lighting designer but it was Adam who solved the problem of lighting the garland…we hid an LED battery operated light on the top of the fireplace…it was subtle yet perfect.

Our Christmas Party Spread.

This is just a little glimpse into the home Adam and I have created together.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Tonight, a food runner come to check in with me to say goodbye.

I require everyone and I do mean everyone to check in with me before they leave.  NOT just when they give me their cashout.  When they are done with side work, have said their goodbyes and are exiting the building, come say good night.

This started when I was working at my first GM job.  I’d gone upstairs to my office, which was in a hotel, secluded from the dining room and kitchen.  We’d been open about 3 weeks and I was in the weeds.  I was up there for about 3 hours trying to catch up, thinking I was in the building alone.  In fact, when I went upstairs, I thought everyone was gone.  

I finish up, turn off the lights and head down stairs and I have the shit scared out of me, because there are two servers sitting in the lobby of the hotel just shooting the shit.  I didn’t care that they were there, I just thought everyone was gone.

From that moment, you must, must, must say goodby when you leave.  

Back to the food runner.

It was his last shift until after our 23 day break.  

I offer him my hand to shake, and he shakes it.  

It was a less than stellar handshake.  

And I gave him my speech.  He is small of stature, but I explained that doesn’t matter.  Shake the hand like you are an A type Alpha dog.  People judge you on your hand shake.  Look the person in the eye, grab the hand firmly and shake.  

I told him that I’d given this speech a 100 times and told him to remember it for the rest of his life.  Then I had him shake Chef’s hand, who explained that when shaking someone’s hand on a deal to remember it’s your word and your honor and to own that shit.

I shook his hand one more time and this time it was perfect, wished him a Merry Christmas and New Year’s and sent him on his way. 

I hope he remembers the lesson.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

About a month ago, a charity that Adam and I worked with that helps find homes for cats, posted that they were looking for donations for an auction event, to help fund their work. 

Of course, we helped and we both provided gift cards to our restaurants for them to auction.  

Fast forward to Thursday night.  

A guest comes up to ask if I’m Jeff and she introduces herself as one of the people in charge of the auction and lets me know that she bid on and won the gift card to my restaurant.  

We chatted for about 15 minutes, about their work, the restaurant, how happy we are with our cats, and how much we were glad we could help, how much they are enjoying their meals and how happy they will be to bring friends back.  

She goes back to finish dinner.  

About an hour later, she and her daughter leave, once again, raving about the meal, the service etc. 

The next day we get a survey from them.  They gave us an 80%. 

They knocked points off for the quality of the food and the atmosphere.  

I of course, respect their opinion.  We are not for everyone.  

However, in this instance, it might have been wise to keep it to yourself, because I gave that meal away for free.  A simple, we loved it would have sufficed.  

It really makes me re-think whether I’d donate a gift card to an organization that thinks that we are just average.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Server Edition!!!

It’s cold here.

I didn’t know it was going to be cold.

When I left for work it was not cold.

I went to work wearing a light jacket.

I didn’t think I was going to make it home tonight as I walked from the subway. It’s fucking cold.

Tomorrow I will watch NY 1 before I leave the house.

Thank god, we were finally busy tonight. And thank god, people were finally tipping. I walked with 15% of my sales tonight and considering I tipped out 5% of my sales, that means at the end of the night I had made 20%. Which is impressive because I know that I was stiffed on a 150 dollar check and a 125 dollar check. That means I was over tipped enough to make up for the 60 dollar tip I didn’t get.

Something happened tonight that happens a lot at work.
I dropped off the check for a foreign couple. I picked up their credit card a few minutes later, ran it and returned it to them. When I returned to the table, they were gone but they’d left cash with their credit card slip. And they had tipped 15 dollars, but they also put 15 dollars on the tip part of the credit card receipt. For the life of me I can’t figure out why they do this. They have to know they’ll be charged the total that’s written in the total line of the card. In fact, I have to close it out to the total. I do have to admit that most of us don’t mind when this happens because you get double tipped, but as I said I can’t for the life of me figure out why they do this.

On the same note:

When you go out to eat, don’t mistakenly take the credit card receipt with you. If you leave with the signed copy, the waiter gets nothing. Also check your math. If you add your tip to the total and miss carrying the one the waiter might end up being shorted on their tip. Of course, don’t be upset if you carry the one too many times and you double tip the waiter. We are required to close the check out to the total on the slip.

Oh.

And I had another walk out tonight. I went to get their check to transfer it to the bar and when I returned, they were gone. Luckily management doesn’t seem to get upset when it happens in cocktails. I think it’s because we deal with so many customers. I’m starting to think that I should ask for a credit card to run a tab on people at my counters. The weird thing about this is that I’ve waited tables in a million places for a million years and I never had a walkout till I started this job.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

My favorite survey result ever: 

First:

My FAVORITE steak restaurant in the 13 countries I’ve been to. Most tender and flavorful steak. Excellent service. Lovely atmosphere. 

Final comment:  

There is something the steak is cooked with that makes me and my dinner partner regularly have to use the bathroom… quickly, uncomfortably. Happens every time we come. The food is so good that we continue to come, but if there were a way to figure out what it is, that would be truly awesome.

No further comment is needed.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I have three more working days until I am off for 23 days. I mentioned this earlier in the week.

I also know that I mentioned this fact about a month ago, but I am not sure how many people caught it, but at the end of the month, Adam and I are flying to Argentina to meet Chef, where we are going to do a culinary exploration of Buenos Aires.

We will be there for New Year’s and have reservations for one of the best steak houses in the city. Chef is using this time to do research for the menu for next summer.

We are super excited, and I have already scheduled a chance to sing Don’t Cry for Me Argentina on the balcony of the Casa Rosada. It won’t be easy!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I was hanging out at the host stand tonight.  My knee is still bothering me and I can stand there, without being too much in the way. 

I’m chatting with my host, and she says that she went to 8 stores looking for a wreath hanger today.

I ask her to repeat herself.

She says, she went to 8 stores looking for a wreath hanger today.

Without hesitation, I say, I HAVE A WREATH HANGER IN MY CAR!!!

She asks me to repeat myself.

I say, I have a wreath hanger in my car.  I put in there last January, when we undecorated at work.  It’s in my backseat.

She says, you have to be fucking kidding me.

I assure her that I am not kidding.

She then says, you aren’t just a general manager, you are a GENERAL MAN!

I laugh and tell her to get my keys when she’s leaving and she can get it, as long as I get it back in January.

She says okay.

Then promptly left without it.

So, if you need a wreath hanger. 

It’s in the back seat of my car. 

The following is a recent review we got on Yelp about 45 minutes after they dined with us:

I dined here recently with a party of three for on a Sunday, just as they opened for their first seating. The ambiance was fantastic, but the greeting was less than warm. The assistant host was unable to answer our questions and did not to know if they had a coat room or place to hang our jackets. Service would have been acceptable had the price have everything been cut in half. Two of the three steaks we ordered were not to temperature, the filet was over the $160 wagyu was raw. On top of that, they wagyu which claimed to be an A5 was certainly not. The porterhouse which was listed as a 22oz on the menu was less than an inch thick. The backwaiter did not know the seat numbers and auctioned off the food.

I think it was my fault for ordering an “A5 wagyu ribeye” for $160, and I should have known it wouldn’t be what it was claiming. Coming in on a Sunday may have been a mistake as well.

Overall, it was a disappointing experience and for $500, I expected much more. There are many better restaurants just miles away, but if you like steak, you may enjoy the meal.

This was the survey they left us about 15 minutes after they dined with us?

The facility was lovely, the welcome, ok. The service missed on a couple of points and, we were surprised at the wagyu appearance and size and it was undercooked. The filet was over cooked, looking back we may have been served the wrong meals but the sides were correct. When served the meals they were auctioned at the table, again surprised that at this level the waitstaff was not communicating who ordered what. We had food to take home and boxed that ourselves, I expect that is your policy and had to ask for a bag. One of our desserts ordered to share and served with 2 spoons. It was cheesecake, I expected forks and maybe an extra plate. I would say we were underwhelmed.

______________________

I want to be these people.

I want my life to be so perfect, that I have to search for things to complain about.

The less than warm greeting was me telling the guy who arrived first at 4:58 that he couldn’t get a drink at the bar because we had reservations. He huffed and puffed and was seated with the rest of his party at 5:03, when they arrived. We offered to seat him first when he arrived.

There is no assistant host on Sunday. They asked a food runner, who’s in her second week about a coat room. We do not have one.

WE ARE NOT A FINE DINING RESTAURANT.

We are a restaurant that serves fine food, but we don’t operate under the assumption that we will be fine dining. Do we follow steps of service, absolutely. But at no point, are we fine dining.

While we are on the subject, we don’t have back waiters. And I find it suspect that every other table got great service that night, meanwhile your experience was a disaster.

As for your steaks being under/overcooked…it might have been the case, but I assure you the Wagyu was not raw, and even Michelen star restaurants make mistakes. Did you let us know. Did you offer us the chance to make it right?

The Waygu is A5. Yes, it costs less than in Boston/LA/New York City. If we charged what we should to meet the margins expected it would be around $225 and we aren’t sure rural Maine can command that price. However, I assure you that it is indeed A5, and I assure you that you are the first person to complain about the quality. And the porterhouse doesn’t claim to be 22 oz. It’s 20 oz and lets not forget it has a huge bone in the middle of it.

I have no idea what the Sunday remark means. The chef cooks every night. I am there, every night. The staff on Sundays has been with me for almost 2 years.

As for better restaurants in the area. Why, yes. We are surrounded by AMAZING restuarants. You sum it up nicely. If you like steak you may enjoy the meal.

That is so true. Just like if you like Chinese food, then you are more likely to enjoy the Chinese restaurant. If you like seafood, you are more likely to enjoy the seafood restaurant.

As for fine dining, it doesn’t exist in our area. It just doesn’t. You want fine dining steak house service, you need to go to NYC or Boston or LA and I promise you the back waiter might know about coat check, but your steak will NEVER be as good as ours.

And oh, the horror of being served cheesecake with a spoon. The horror. The humanity of it all. All the guests are screaming around here.