I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Last night I mentioned that most foods should not be eaten hot.

I was told a story by a staff member today that brought the subject back up.

On Saturday night a server brought sharing plates for a table’s entrees as they were splitting a lot of food. It was an 8 top. He was called back over and the table was angry that the plates weren’t warm. They insisted he remove them. And replace them.

Seriously.

Who the fuck provides warm plates for sharing?

But also.

What foods should be eaten hot?

Not warm. Hot. Like scald your mouth hot.

As a server I’ve microwaved so many bowls of soups to boiling that I can’t even count that high.

As a manager I constantly field complaints about food that is not hot.

There is a huge difference between not hot and cold.

I asked a server this question today.

He said soup. I concurred.

He said pizza.

I disagree.

Pizza should be warm. But it should not be hot.

PS. I like NYC thin sliced pizza at room temperature. I never get it heated.

We also had a man send back his steak last week because it wasn’t hot.

So.

What other foods should be hot?

Not warm. But hot?

I can can say that in 2020 and 2021 tips were great. However the larger than life outrageous tips have fallen to the way side.

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/americans-tip-less-than-before-the-covid-19-pandemic-survey-173148777.html?fs=e&s=cl

This post has been stewing for ten years.

I’m finally done.

I have no patience for old people who are cranky and grumpy and treat others like shit because they are old.

No patience at all.

Table 11 tonight were those old people.

3 guests.

2 cranky as shit.

There is no reason, absolutely no reason to be cranky just because you can be!

The woman at seat 1 you could see from across the room was miserable.

And she complained about everything.

Her ordered a Prosecco. Then sent it back insisting she did not.

She complained about the free bread.

She sent her food back because it wasn’t hot.

(Very, very, very few food items are meant to be eaten hot).

She was miserable.

I really think she’s one of those people who think because they are old their behavior doesn’t matter.

And for the most part we ignore and accept it

Like we ignore and accept that grandpa is racist.

And grandma is homophobic.

And uncle Joe doesn’t like Catholics and Muslims.

And I say bullshit.

If you are still a living breathing functioning part of society just stop it. Stop being miserable. Stop being racist. Stop being wrong.

Be nice.

Your life probably wouldn’t be so miserable if you were nice to people.

There is absolutely no fucking excuse for it.

Just.

Stop.

It.

I’d like to speak to the Janet. (Facebook just autocorrected manager to Janet. It made me laugh).

I got to work today and we had a number of reservations on the book.

I was actually worried if we had enough staff. 3 parties of 6. 4 parties of 5. All within 30 minutes of each other.

Luckily I’d forgotten that I asked an additional server to work tonight. Suddenly staffing was perfect.

The server I asked to work gave her notice this week. She is moving on after three years at the restaurant.

She had Friday and Saturday off because of weather so I made sure to hook her up tonight. She was going to have three of the larger parties.

The night starts.

5:30 comes and goes and I realize she still doesn’t have any tables. She should have 2 six tops by now.

I go to the host stand and discover the following:

A woman made a reservation for 6.

Her friend made a reservation for 6.

Two 6 top reservations for the same party.

This annoys me. I’ve never ever ever been a part of two people making reservations for us for the same night at the same restaurant.

Why you ask?

Because we talk to the people we are dining with.

One person is in charge of the reservation. One person. Period.

So now my server i was trying to throw a bone only has 2 tables.

But wait.

She still doesn’t have a table yet.

Why?

Because they reserved for inside but moved to patio.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Now she has 1 table. At 7:00.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Meanwhile, I can see on her face she thinks this is malicious. She gave her notice so I’m treating her disrespectfully.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I don’t work that way.

But I can understand her reasoning.

I pull her aside. Tell her the story.

I’m not sure she believes me.

She then asks to just go home and while we are talking the host seats her a 2 top.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I tell her to keep it if she wants. Or I’ll fix it if she wants to go home.

She keeps it.

I can tell she’s still pissed at me.

Meanwhile.

The host outside approaches and lets me know the woman who made the reservation wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be charged for the cancellation of the other reservation.

And I laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

Of course she is getting charged.

It’s bad enough she shorted the restaurant.

But she and her party screwed over my employee.

I didn’t even wait till the end of the shift. I was hoping to have the inevitable conversation in person.

I tell the server this story.

I think she finally believes me.

I’m still pissed though.

And the woman was charged $150.

Yay. The Celtics are in the Super Bowl this year.

Hurray.

Do you know what’s not fun?

People who make reservations for the last seating at a restaurant so they can watch the game at the bar.

We were almost empty when you arrived.

My staff wanted to go to a real bar to watch the game.

Alas they are standing around waiting for you to finish dinner, not knowing how long you’ll stay after you are done.

Thank you though.

I was able to get 90 minutes worth of administrative work done tonight while I waited.

I’m almost out of the weeds.

We had a server who was on her first shift tonight.

She did great.

But of course she had a difficult table right off the bat.

First the woman at the table is upset that we couldn’t make a decaf espresso martini.

Then she said her shrimp was under cooked.

It wasn’t.

Then she complained that her tuna was over cooked.

It wasn’t.

My favorite though:

She substituted a regular martini in place of if the espresso martini.

She ordered then began to quiz the server on the olives.

Are they good olives?

Hmmm? They come in a big jar. So yes.

Then.

Are they Maine olives?

Yes. Olives thrive in the balmy winter conditions and short summers of Maine.

In fact.

Just north of Portland you can tour on olive farm. It’s just across the street from the orange grove. They grow avocados as well.

At the end of the night as the staff is finishing up and giving me their cash outs, I check in with them.

How was your night? Any problems? Etc.

Tonight I was checking in with Bob who was waiting on a late table to leave.

I asked about his night.

He said great except for the table he was waiting on.

He said he greeted them, and a lady at the table said.

We are going to be high maintenance. We want you to know before we start.

He said to me: I never knew that was something to be proud of.

I agreed.

I said it’s kind of like being racist. We know it’s out there but you shouldn’t admit it.

They stayed another 20 minutes or so before they finished up.

They were high maintenance!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Hmmm.

Last Friday and Saturday I charged more people for missing their reservations than the sum total since I started.

The fallout has been huge.

And difficult.

And fun.

And hard.

All at the same time.

First.

I discussed with the owner today about whether it’s worth losing a customer over a 4 top that is a no show.

It’s a hard scenario.

Yes we want to respect and honor our base.

But.

We had a ridiculous amount of cancellations last Friday and Saturday.

But he agrees.

Something needs to stop.

We are hiring, scheduling, stocking, prepping for the reservations we have.

If we lose more than a 100 guests it’s a problem for us our staff and our guests we turn away.

I’m still getting complaints.

Tonight a woman reached out.

She had a reservation for last Friday.

She realized Friday afternoon she couldn’t find the gift card she was given by a friend.

She calls the restaurant to ask how to get the number.

It was an electronic gift card.

Ordered online.

The host relays that we need the last four of the credit card, the amount and the approximate date.

And we can find it.

She is also told that we won’t be able to look it up tonight as service has started and it takes a while.

20 minutes later 15 minutes into service the woman cancels.

I charge her for the reservation.

She is upset that we couldn’t look up the reservation on Friday at 5:15 on a holiday weekend.

She is upset that we can’t just use the name of the purchaser.

She is upset she was charged $50.

She is upset that she has to get additional information from her friend.

She is angry that she can’t find the text message she received since her phone died and was replaced.

FUN FACT:

None of this is my fault.

It’s busy. I can’t step off the floor for ten minutes to look up your card.

We use our POS for gift cards. The name of the purchaser isn’t even collected.

I need the last four of the credit card to do anything.

But.

The most FUNNEST Fact of all.

We don’t ever ever ever ever ever ever ever text a gift card.

Ever.

Ever.

Ever.

It’s an email.

Your phone number isn’t even asked for.

So unless Google has closed your gmail account you can access your gift card.

And somehow.

Somehow.

On Friday night.

Of Memorial Day Weekend.

This is my fault.

Meanwhile.

I need to reply to her email.

And it will be necessary to be kind.

All the while not being my fault.

Thoughts?

Once.

Upon.

A

Time.

There was a General Manager of a restaurant that ruled a small castle in a coastal new England town.

He ruled with a fair but steady hand.

The staff of the castle liked working there and were rewarded nicely.

The guests who frequented the castle enjoyed it immensely.

The the king of the small castle, David was happy with the outcome.

And was loved by all.

Things in the castle were good.

Little did we know evil was lurking in the shadows.

One of the BIG rulers of the country was spying on the castle and staff.

And he did something he shouldn’t have.

A staff member complained.

And things started to crumble.

Slowly at first but two months later the castle was closed.

The king was replaced.

The general manager was replaced.

The staff was replaced.

Everyone was sad.

The guests.

The staff.

The general manager.

The king.

We all moved on as one is wont to do in these cases.

Fast forward 4.5 years.

The king is happy.

The staff is happy.

The guests are happy

All at other castles.

And the general manager is in charge of a castle not far from the original one.

He is happy again.

But.

Minions from the country of the original castle stop by.

And they compliment him on his efforts.

The staff is great.

The service is great.

The candies are lit.

The lamps are charged.

The guests are treated well.

I comment that it’s easy when you treat them with respect and kindness. When they make money. When the food is consistently good.

They are jealous.

They get pushback in their kingdom.

The GM laughs and says it was never a problem when it was his castle.

And he laughs. And laughs.

Because the current leaders can’t manage their teams.

Perhaps he should offer to consult.

Meanwhile.

In the GM’s current castle life is good.

And the evil owners from before stop by and tell him how wonderful his castle is.

And the story will continue.

The

End.

Anyone who knows me I don’t miss a meal.

I am not one to miss a meal.

Except.

Tonight I was sitting at the chef’s table and realized I was light headed. I kept asking myself what the fuck was going on.

And then I realized I never had anything to eat all day.

Not my lunch.

Not my peach.

Nada.

No wonder I was fuzzy.

I remedied the situation by doing something I never ever ever do. I stopped at Burger King on my way home. Whopper with cheese. Small fry.

Yum!!!