I’d like to speak with the manager!!!

Server edition!!!

Do you want the good news first? Or the bad news?

I’ll start with the bad news.

It’s not really bad news, it’s just what a fucking night. The two manager who hate me were nowhere in sight so I didn’t have to deal with that. The managers that were present were out of their fucking minds. And not in the good way. They started the shift by reminding us that the economy sucks so make sure we make the best of the busy season. They also reminded us that people are spending their money carefully, so they’ll be much less likely to tip if they don’t get a great experience while we are waiting on them.

And then our shift started.

I immediately went on the floor and filled some of my empty chairs. I sat everyone and told them I’d be right back with menus. I get their butts in the chairs and then I run get menus for everyone. It saves me a trip and I know exactly how many I need. Except when I got to the host desk there are no menus. So I went looking. And looking. And looking. By then it’s been 4 or 5 minutes and I’ve only found four menus. For 10 people. So I explain that we are short menus and ask if they can share and that I’ll be back in a minute. And then I fill the rest of my chairs. And I tell those people that I’ll be back in a minute with menus. And I look. And I look. And I look. And by now all the first round of tables is getting antsy because they are ready to order and I’m not there. And the second round of people doesn’t understand why they don’t have menus.

And so the night went. For some reason we don’t have enough menus to seat the restaurant. And because the menu is changing the first week of January, they aren’t getting new ones. So tonight, they were seating people without menus and leaving it up to the servers to scrounge around and find enough for people to share.

My first round of tables was such a disaster that I got stiffed on four of the first five tables. And I don’t blame them at all. The experience sucked and the service was worse.

Oh, but that’s not the good part.

The good part?

The kitchen crashed and burned tonight. In a Towering Inferno kind of way.

The fastest ticket time I had during the evening was about 25 minutes. And that’s about 10 minutes longer than it’s supposed to be. Food was running anywhere from 45 to 60 minutes. And then it was anybody’s guess as to whether it was cooked right or even what the person ordered. I was already so perplexed by the menu situation that I didn’t even have the energy to deal with the food problems. And there are only two approaches you can take. You can ignore your guests and their questions and hope they understand. Or you can explain that things are a mess and you’ll do the best that you can.

I tried both approaches tonight. Neither seemed better than the other. By the end I was just telling them that the food was going to take a while. A long while. A VERY long while. So not to be upset or to be surprised. This way no one can be angry with me. My favorite tonight was the guy who called me over and said, “You know we ordered food?” “Yes, I know.” “So where is it?” “In the kitchen” “Can you go get it?” “If it were ready, you’d already have it.” “Do you think it will be ready soon?” “Probably not.” And I walked away. Luckily it was a ten top so their tip was included.

I was talking to the kitchen manager tonight at the end of the shift. His story was that they were staffed for the Tuesday nights we’ve been having not the Tuesday night that we have in the middle of the holidays. In the kitchen we have a fancy computer system that is used for timing tickets. When an order is placed, the computer knows what’s going to take the longest and sends that to the kitchen first. And then after an appropriate amount of time, send the rest. Broken down as it needs to be. At one point tonight there were over 50 tickets on the computer that couldn’t be seen because of the backlog of tickets being cooked.

IT WAS A CLUSTERFUCK!

And so the manager’s way of dealing with that.

It’s what a friend of mine calls “Straightening the chairs on the deck of the Titanic.”

They immediately started focusing on the other things that were going wrong. The little things. Like someone using napkins to clean up a spill on their table. Or someone not garnishing a drink right. Or someone not having plates on the table when an appetizer was delivered. Or for me…not closing my checks out after someone paid. I was told at one point that I couldn’t seat myself any more until my checks were closed out. As if that was going to fix the big problem of the evening. The manager’s were complete asses to everyone after things started to fall apart. And the staff was actually doing okay with it till the managers got out of hand. Then suddenly the morale in the place plummeted. No one was doing anything to help.

And my night really started off well with a host from our restaurant sitting in my section who left me two bucks on a 35 dollar tab. What the fuck? Really? 

And so enough bitching.

It’s Christmas Eve now.

I got my first two Christmas gifts tonight.

Chuck left me a gift under the tree. I have to figure out when I’m going to open it. I like to wait. I like to postpone these things as long as possible. When I was a kid, and it’s still true, I never peaked at my gifts. To this day you could tell me not to look in the bag by the door and I’d never look. I like the expectation. As I was typing this I realized it might have something to do with the presents I received as a child. They were not usually what I wanted because my parents couldn’t afford them. After a while I started asking for things that were easier for them to get. But I think that I postpone opening gifts because I’m not disappointed in the waiting. And I don’t have to pretend to like it in the waiting. But once the paper is off suddenly everything changes. When I was a kid, I learned to plaster on the smile and make my parents think it was the perfect gift. Even when I was eight or nine I knew they were doing the best that they could. Long story short, I like to wait. And wait. And wait. So I have to decide when to open my gift.

And my second gift.

The bartenders gave me back my tipout tonight. They told me that I tipped them out so much the rest of the year that tonight I could keep it. I tried arguing with them but they wouldn’t hear of it. And they did not have a great night. But I thought it was very sweet of them to offer and to thank me for the money that I give them. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in trying to make your own money that you forget the people around you. It may very well the best gift I’ve been given in a long time.

But it’s Christmas Eve now, so the bad really doesn’t matter anymore.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

You can buy gift cards for our restaurant online through the POS.  

This is great, as we don’t sell gift cards over the phone and mail them to you, which is a royal pain in the ass.  

The process is super easy, fill in your information, enter a credit card number and the card is emailed or texted to your friend.

Easy. Peasy.  

Except, that technology is specific, meaning that it can’t interpret what you meant, only what you wrote.  

I have worked at my current job for 15 months and we’ve only had a couple of gift card issues, until last week.  

I dealt with five on one day last week.  

I tell people who call to send me the purchase date and time, the last four of the credit card used, and to give me 24 hours.  

It’s not a hard thing to fix, but it does take a few minutes. Mostly because Toast doesn’t give you away to look up the gift card number from the date of purchase or last four numbers of the credit card. (And if you are Toast users, and know a hack for this let me know).  

I find the gift card, take a screen shot and then email it back to them. 

Like I said, easy peasy. Takes a few minutes, but mostly a pain in the ass.

When I got to work today, I found a message from my host last night (I took the night off), that said Mary had called and had made a mistake in an email address and that the gift card was never delivered.  

When I get in today, there is an email from her.  

She had a response to her email, by 1:30.  

Around 3:00 the phone rings and I can’t answer as I’m on the other line.  

With the cordless phone, I can hear messages being recorded through the speaker on the phone. I end my current call, and can hear someone leaving a very terse message about a gift card. By the end I know it’s her.  

I don’t check the messages on the machine until around 4:00.

There are 5 messages, all wanting reservations, except for Mary, who lets me have it for not getting back to her.

I call her.

She answers and begins.

She bought the gift card at the beginning of September. She has left multiple messages. She called last night and was told to email the general manager, and she did so but has yet to hear back from him. She continues by saying our gift card system is flawed and the whole experience has been a disaster. She talks for about 5 minutes on all the ways we have failed her as a business.

I know the couple she bought the gift card for. They were clients of hers that sold their house, it was a thank you for doing business with her.  

I want to ask her if she thinks they’d use her again, knowing how she treats other businesses in the area.  

I want to ask her, why it’s our fault that she typed the wrong email address in the recipient field.  

I want to ask her, why it has taken her three weeks to reach out.

I want to ask her a lot of questions.

Instead, I wait for her to breathe, and say, “the gift card was emailed to you 2.5 hours ago. Is there anything else I can help you with.”  

She thanks me, and hangs up.

The system worked exactly as it is set up to work. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

We were busy tonight.  As busy as we can be based on the tables we have inside now that the patio is closed.  

And no one was moving at the bar during the first turn.  Everyone was planted firmly where they were.  

At 7:30 a couple walks in, I ask if they have a reservation, they tell me their name, I check them in.  Their reservation is for 7:45.  

I tell them it will be a few minutes and they are welcome to have a seat.  

Another couple walks in, with a reservation, I get them seated.

A couple walks in without a reservation, I get them seated.

I’ve seen the look on the couples face before…

It’s the we were here first look.

The woman looks at me and says, do we have a reservation at a specific table or something?  

I say, you have reservations at the bar.  It will be a few more minutes.  

A couple walks in, I check them in, tell them it will just be a couple of minutes, and ask them to wait.  Their reservation is at 7:30.

Just as I say that, the host comes around the corner and lets me know two bar stools are ready.    I seat the table that has just come in.  

It’s clear that the people still seated at the bar are going nowhere.  

I offer the first couple the chef’s table as an alternative.

They say okay.  

It takes a couple of minutes, but they are led to the chef’s table.  

The host comes back and says they are not happy.  

45 seconds later the waman appears in front of me.

She is pissed.

She wants to know, why they were seated at “just a high top in the bar?”  

Yes, the chef’s table is a high top in the bar area, but they are also the most coveted tables in the restaurant. 

She also wants to know why I seated people before them, especially the people at the bar when they were there first.

I explain that two of the couples had reservations in the restaurant at a dining table.  One was a walk in that sat in the Gallery.  And the couple sat at the bar, had a 7:30 reservation and therefore were sat first.  

She is not happy but lets me know that they’ll wait.  

She goes off to get her husband after telling me that they will WAIT for barstools.    

And the people sitting on the couch behind them who’ve been making faces the whole time I was talking to the couple, can’t wait to dish.

“I bet you deal with this every day.  Don’t you?”

I say, you have no idea.

One of them explains that he is a manager at a retail store and knows exactly how I feel.  

We chat for about 3 minutes, when I see the couple approaching.  I hold my finger up to my lips to let them know to be quiet, and then the couple appears and sits on the other couch.  

We finally get the couple seated at 7:50.

And that’s the end of the story.

Except that I bought the 4-top a dessert to share, just for being kind, and nice, and understanding. 

Let’s spread good in the world.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Last night around 9:30 a server we’ll call Jen, because that’s her name, comes to me and says, the Smith’s would like to come in tomorrow night, but only if they can have me.

She reminds me of who they are.

Ahhh.

I remember them well.

Back in the spring, a table arrives for their 6:00 reservation. They are led to their table and seated.

The server approaches the table and the father at the table loses his ever loving fucking mind.

He insists that they be waited on by Jennifer.

The server comes to me to find out what should be done.

I explain, that unfortunately, Jennifer does not have an open table and they can either wait until she does, which will be about 90 minutes or they can be seated where they are.

30 seconds later the father appears at the host stand and loses his mind again.

He is shouting at me, that the guest is always right, they should be able to have whomever they want wait on them etc. etc. etc.

I try to explain that Jennifer has her own section, and at no time would I allow her to wait on a table in someone else’s section.

He continues, to lose his mind through the entire meal and tell me on his way out that he’ll never return.

Two things of note.

They always return.

Always.

This will be their second time in after that incident.

And.

The man is in the business. He’s a restaurant consultant. He should be embarrassed at how he is behaving.

They have texted Jennifer and asked if they can have a reservation for tonight, but they will only come if she waits on them.

They are behaving like small children.

Call the restaurant like everyone else.

And stop being a baby.

I make the reservation and they arrive at 6:00 tonight.

They walk in and I say hello do you have a reservation?

The mom glares at me, and finally the son says, yes it’s under Smith.

Of course it is.

Here’s the thing, except for the son saying their name, not one of them spoke to me while they were in the building.

They didn’t acknowledge me on their way in, and they flat out ignored me on their way out.

And I can’t help thinking what privileged lives they must lead to think this behavior is acceptable.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I didn’t take one blog note during service tonight.  

I’ll pull one from my list from yesterday. Which was actually from my list on Thursday that I didn’t bring home.

Around 6:45 on Thursday, a server comes to the host stand to check in, and says, “you seem off tonight.”  

I looked at her and didn’t say anything.

She asks if I’m having a bad night, and if everything is okay.

In truth, it was a bad night. For reasons, I won’t go into. I was on the struggle bus.

Most nights, and I do mean most nights, my staff has no idea that I’m struggling.  

For example, when I started my job at the Irish pub, I’d returned home from my mom’s funeral four days prior to my first shift. I’d go in every day, with a smile on my face, and I don’t think anyone knew that I wasn’t feeling it.

Sometimes, however, even I can’t hide it.

Thursday was one of those days.  

On those days, I scheme my exit strategy.  

From the job, from life, from the world.  

I don’t mean suicidal.  

I just mean sometimes when I’m truly struggling, I dream about getting in my car and just driving away. Drive to Seattle, or to Madison, or to Providence, or to Sacramento.  

Go someplace new, and just start over.  

I’d never do it.  

I love my life. I love Adam. I love my job.  

But sometimes, just to be someone new, in a different city, state, country feels like it might be the answer.  

A couple of times in my life I have done so. Put my shit in a truck and just driven away. To NYC. To Atlanta. To San Diego.

But I didn’t have this life back then, and perhaps if I’d stayed put, I’d have found this life sooner.  

Not to get off subject, but I met Adam in 2001, selling merchandise at a musical in NYC. I can still remember him as he sold me the CD of the cast recording. So maybe if I’d stayed, I really would have had this life sooner.  

That being said, long before I met Adam, I had a therapist, who for all of his faults, helped me to learn that the struggle will lift. The depression will lift. The despair will lift.  

I just have to be patient.  

I knew this after my mom’s funeral.  

I knew this when I tried to stop taking my meds and crashed and burned.

I knew this when I lost my job in 2017.

I knew this when depression set in during the pandemic.  

I just have to hold my breath and wait.  

It will lift.  

It always has and always will. I just have to wait for it, which sometimes feels like a lie, but it’s always lifted.  

Even when I was at my most depressed back in 1995, it eventually lifted and I was the better for it.

I was on the struggle bus on Thursday. And some of my staff could see tell. Sometimes, I feel like I’m letting them down, when I’m not able to put on a happy face.  

However, when they ask, I own it. Yes. I’m struggling today. I’m not feeling it. I am tired. And anxious. I need to focus on getting through the night. I get quiet. I tend to stick to myself. I don’t joke. I usually plant myself in a corner somewhere and wait.  

I also tell myself, that 99.999% of the time, it’s absolutely nothing, that a good night’s sleep won’t cure.  

That was the case when I woke up on Friday, went to work, had a great shift, and couldn’t remember what the problem was on Thursday.  

Take my word, it does get better.  

It always gets better.  

Even when it doesn’t seem like it will  

Just keep on, keeping on, and you’ll come out the other side.

I promise.  

It’s been over 40 years, and I haven’t been wrong yet. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I picked up the phone on Thursday around 3:45, and woman asked if there was someone she could speak to about a charge on her credit card.

I said, I can help you with that, what is the problem?

She begins to explain:

Seems that in August she made a reservation for 5 people that was cancelled less than 24 hours before the reservation and they were charged $25 per person.  

I ask for the date of the reservation.

I find the reservation. And every single moment of the reservation, is preserved in history. When it was made, every table it was assigned to and when it was cancelled and when they were charged.

The reservation for 5 was made on August 16 at 4:07 for August 17 at 5:00.  

They made the reservation on line and had to click through the prompt that said that if they cancelled within 24 hours of the reservation that they could be charged $25 per person. 

To explain, if you make a reservation on line, the site says you may be charged $25 per person, then it asks for your credit card, then you have to confirm that you understand all of this.  

It’s not like they made the reservation over the phone and no one explained the process.

She tells me that they called on Tuesday and but we were closed.  She says that she left a message and no one called her back.  I also know that not once this summer did I NOT call everyone on my list back.  Sometimes, if the reservation was for 3 weeks from now it was not the next day, but I always called back.   

However, for the sake of argument, let’s say that I did not call back.  

You could have left three more messages the next day, which was the day of the reservation.  

Alas, you did not, because I can also assure you that before we charge people, we check to make sure that you didn’t call saying you were in a car accident, had COVID or that your grandmother died.  All things that happened this summer.  

What actually happened was this:

You made a reservation at 11:41 for 5 people. You cancelled that reservation at 11:42.

You made another reservation for 5 people at 4:07. (I can’t know this for sure, but I’d bet my next paycheck that you knew that you were going to be 6 and instead of calling as Rest says to do, you made the reservation for 5 as a placeholder and 99 million other people have done.

But that’s okay, except that if you called you didn’t leave a message as you say you did or I’d have called you.

Also, technology is a wonderful thing, you were texted at 12:01 the day of your reservation and told to confirm or cancel by texting us back. You did not do that.

You were texted again at 4:30 reminding you that you were supposed to be at the restaurant at 5:00. You could have texted us at that point.

You were texted by my host at 5:14 asking if you were coming for your reservation.

You responded at 5:19 saying you cancelled on the phone, and I can assure you that you’d have never been charged if you’d let us know.

She argued all of this.  I explained that when she made the reservation she only had 53 minutes to cancel.  I also explained that she cancelled 20 minutes after her reservation, leaving us no way to fill the seats.  

She continued to argue and finally demanded I not charge her and I said, unfortunately there was nothing I could do.

She said, you are going to lose the business of a local over this, and hung up.

And wouldn’t you know, the reservation she cancelled is the only reservation she has ever made at our restaurant.  

However, she did leave a message on our Facebook page today:

Hello. My kids surprised me by coming to Maine this august. It was my daughter’s birthday so we made a reservation for 5 on 8/17 as we have enjoyed many dinners there. My son also surprised me on 8/16. We left a message that day asking to enlarge the reservation to 6. You were closed that day so I thought that you would call us on 8/17 to confirm. We called twice that day only to get an answering machine . In a panic during the busy days of August we made a back-up reservation at another restaurant. We made one last call to you during open hours only yet to get the answering machine. I was not going to bring the 6 of us with confirmation so we had to go to the other restaurant. You charged my cc $125. I get your policy and totally agree with that. I called yesterday and explained my situation but there was absolutely no flexibility. I asked if we could get $125 credit at your restaurant but no. We are members of the R**er Club, Web**nnet, Edgcomb, Cape Ar**del, just to name a few and extremely local You have already lost 4 of my neigbors. Stop Manhattanizing my town and bring back Cape Porpoise. You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Oh, kids…

Based on the number of times you say you called, you could have said you were cancelling 3 separate times, but alas you did not. 

When you made the back up reservation, at another restaurant, you could have cancelled, by phone or by app, by text, since at this point you were going to screw one of the two restaurants you had made a reservation at.  

You call yesterday and tell me that you agree with the policy.  What part do you agree with?  The part where we take a credit card.  The part where we expect you to cancel prior to the exact time of your reservation?  The part where you are charged $25 per person.  I’m not sure how you can “get” our policy, then call and be angry with me. 

As for the credit at the restaurant, uh, no. 

My favorite part:

How do you tell me you are rich without telling me you are rich?

 By listing the country clubs that you belong to in town. Are you somehow not required to follow the rules because you belong to a country club?

Seriously, telling me you are rich only lets me know that you can afford to pay the $125 without much crisis.  It actually hurt the restaurant more than you. It hurt my server more than you. It hurt my food runners, bartenders and hosts more than you. If you can afford to belong to 4 country clubs, you can afford $125. The tip my server lost on your 5 top would have been that much. And the server mades $6.38 an hour. Who do you think can afford it more????

I’m extremely confused as to what extremely local means. 

I’d think extremely local means that you live across the street.  

By Maine standards to be extremely local your great, great, great, great grandparents needed to be born in our little town which I know to not be true.  They have had to be born in Maine which I also know not to be true. In fact you weren’t even born here.

As for your 4 neighbors, I have no doubt that I must have told them no as well, and now I’m on their list.  

And what does Manhattanizing mean?  

I’m assuming it’s a variation of the word manhattanization.  Google defines is as:  : congestion of an urban area by tall buildings. There is no urban area in our town. There are no tall buildings within 10 miles of us, unless you count the church steeple.

We are a 2-story building that’s at least a football field away from our nearest neighbor so yes, definitely manhattanized.    

I’m truly sorry, that you were asked to follow the rules. I’m truly sorry that I got a parking ticket today. I’m truly sorry that life is hard for some people. I’m pretty sure you are not some people.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Server edition!!!

It’s cold out there.  And I mean cold.  Painfully cold.  The kind of cold that makes every part of your body shiver.  Of course it’s mostly the wind.  Here in the city, it’s blowing about 20 miles per hour and with the temperature around 20 that makes for COLD.

Work was  a dud tonight.  We were off our wait by 8:30 and by 9:15 the place was a ghost town.  I actually ended up leaving early.  I was bored and the money had been crap all night so I said what the fuck and called it a night.

Lovely things I heard tonight at work:

“I’d like to order the nachos and the fried cheese.”  (This is only interesting because we don’t sell fried cheese).

Do you sell turkey burgers?  (No)  Well why not?  (Well you see, I only wait tables part time.  The rest of the time I’m at our corporate offices doing menu development.  And after massive test marketing we’ve discovered that there is not a huge demand for turkey burgers, chicken burgers, pork burgers, buffalo burgers, or rabbit burgers.  What we have discovered is that there is a HUGE demand for beef burgers).

I don’t see soup on the menu.  (That’s because we don’t serve soup).  Well what kind of soup do you have?  (What kind would you like?  Since we don’t sell any soup, might as well pick something exotic and hard to make).

“Do you have Coke Zero?  (No).  What do you have then?  (Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, Mt. Dew, Dr. Pepper, Sierra Mist and rootbeer and lemonade).  Good then, I’ll have the diet 7-up.

I’d like the veggie burger.  And I think it will taste better on whole wheat toast.  (Cause we have a whole selection of bread in the back just waiting for someone to order the veggie burger on whole wheat bread).

Are the ribs pork or beef?  (Pork).  I’ll have the beef ribs.  (Yes, we just happened to get an order of beef ribs in today and we were saving them just for you).

The conversation with the man above continues:

Okay then.  I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger but hold the bacon and the cheese!  (I wasn’t mean enough to actually charge him for the bacon cheeseburger.  I was nice and only charged him for the hamburger).

And after he wanted the cheese and bacon held he said,

I’d also like a fried egg on my burger.  (Really?  Really?  When was the last time you were in a chain restaurant that wasn’t Denny’s that actually had whole eggs lying around so that they could put them on burgers.  Really.  I think you’d be much happier (he was with the whole wheat toast woman) heading on over to the Cosmos Diner on 9th Avenue where you can get everything you wish for including the fried cheese, the turkey burgers, the soup, and maybe even the Coke Zero).

And I’ll end with this little ditty.

This one didn’t happen to me but it’s my favorite restaurant story lately.  On a Saturday lunch a couple of weeks ago, my friend David was waiting on a table of six women from the south.  They mostly ordered water, but one of them got a glass of wine and one of them ordered a margarita.  David dropped the drinks off and told them he’d be back in a couple of minutes to get their order.  When he returned the woman with the margarita said, “I think the bartender made this wrong.  There’s tequila in this drink.

And I heard all of this in one shift.  On a slow night.  Just imagine what a busy night is like for me. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

At 5:30 tonight, two women walk in and I ask if they have a reservation.

They say yes, and I ask for their name.

I can’t find it.

They say, we left a message.

I ask if they actually spoke with anyone.

They say no.

I think of course not.

I find them a table and get them seated.

At the end of the night, I check messages.

The two women called at 4:59 for a reservation, left a message and were surprised when they walked in at 5:25 and they didn’t have a reservation.    

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Believe it or not I came home with ZERO notes tonight of things that happened.  

It might be a first.

At least that was the case until I read an online review on Trip Advisor.

The review is from the guy who left a bad survey after being forced to eat outside, after he made a reservation to eat outside and it was cold.  

He fancies himself a clever writer.

He starts:

All the hype is there: the concept, the location, chef, menu -and service team … BUT, it all went rapidly downhill from there. 
Management doesn’t appear to be interested in or responsible for the back 50′ area beyond – which after dark in September, is cold enough to freeze ice cubes.   

I am truly sorry that you made a reservation that we honored.  Truly sorry.  Had we not had the patio open that night, you’d have been just as angry about the cancellation of your reservation.  You had every opportunity to call and change it.  You had every opportunity, to be responsible for your own well-being.  

As for the back 50’, we are very interested in it.  We make a lot of people happy back there from May to October.  Chef has spent a lot of time and energy making it beautiful.  And special.  And fun.  It has doubled the size of our restaurant.  

As for ice cubes, 55 degrees is not cold enough to freeze ice cubes.  BUT.  As you noted, it is September in Maine.  And the weather turns chilly and there’s nothing to do about that.  

He continues:

No mitigation with offering blankets or throws – let alone heat lamps to make the dinner experience acceptable. There seemed to be little interest that my guests and I felt freezing, unhappy and parked in the boonies for an expensive dinner.

No.  We do not offer blankets.  I personally find them gross.  People eat dinner with them.  Get food on them.  Wipe their hands with them.  And then a few minutes later they are given to another guest.  As for heat lamps, our patio is fucking huge.  We are not five tables, on a concrete slab as many people expect when they arrive.  There are almost 20 tables out there.  All spaced, judiciously away from each other.  Chef got a quote to get heaters and run propane and we’d have to generate about 30 times more revenue than we do to pay for it.  

Also, you are in Maine.  In the fall.  Wear a jacket.  

This is my favorite part:

 “Howard, the Manager” never appeared to see what he might do to put things right. 

You are absolutely right.  I never appeared.  That’s because I was on the door, getting people seated.  You also, never asked to see a manager.  There was no reason for me to come see you as you chose to eat outside, you were seated outside, there were no problems with your food and service.  I don’t generally appear at tables, where we have delivered on our promise.  

And:

There are some misrepresentations on the wine list Studio by Mival Rose is 
misrepresented as Mirval. 

It is misrepresented by actually stating that it is Studio.  There is a couple of dollars difference in the price of the wine you are suggesting we are trying to pass off as Studio and Studio.  I doubt the degree of quality is that different.  

And still more:

Our server was marvellous: charming, knowledgable and appologetic that were were about to ‘freeze our goolies off’… 

I’m sure your server was apologetic.  He’d be bad at his job if he wasn’t.  I would love to point out that it was 55* that night.  In the whole, big, wide world, you are acting like a spoiled 6 year old.  Pull it together, your life is not that hard, if you can afford to travel across the country, stay in a resort town and eat in an expensive restaurant.  Seriously.  First world problems.  

And finally:

.. no blankets, and definitely no table cloths to throw over our freezing bodies. “Too bad, so sad”… 
Could have been great -but a bit of smoke and mirrors a the end of the summer season. I came, I tried, I cried and will not be returning.

I think we are with that.    

But let’s be honest.  You won’t NOT be returning because of your experience.  You won’t be returning because you live on the west coast of Canada and it’s not like you were going to pop in a week from now.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I was on the door tonight.

As is going to be the case for the next 9 months.

The phone rings, I answer and say thank you for calling how may I help you.

There is static on the line so I tell the person that I can’t hear them and hang up.

The phone rings again, I know from caller ID it’s the same person.

She is clear as a bell now.

She says, hi this is Mary, I need to cancel my reservation for Sunday night.

I say great, cancel the reservation, thank her for letting us know and hang up

12 seconds later the phone rings again.

I say, thank you for calling how may I help you.

The woman says, hi this is Mary, I need to cancel my reservation for Sunday night.

I wait.

She repeats herself.

I say, didn’t I just speak with you.

She replies, yes. But I wanted to make sure you cancelled the reservation.

I thanked her again for letting me know and hung up.