One quick announcement: Whereas I thought i'd be posting the second of my two weekly blogs on Thursdays, I think I'm going to do it on Friday afternoons. I feel it might be a good way for me to mentally prepare myself for a long weekend at "The Joint", the fictional name I'll use for the restaurant at which I'm currently employed (I really should keep 'the place" anonymous for obvious reasons).
So last Saturday was pretty busy; we had a relatively new server and a brand spankin' new bus girl. Around eight o'clock I seat and proceed to take a table of four, two couples. Three of the four of them saw that it was busy, and had their orders pretty much ready to go a few minutes after I opened their wine. The last gentleman to order opens his menu, glances at it for a minute, and says, "I don't really eat any of this stuff, I wonder what the chef will make me." There are almost forty items on our menu; every thing from steaks to ribs to seafood and salad. Vegetarian options, healthily grilled items. There are endless choices. After four minutes of my six other tables staring me down we decided on grilled salmon with sauteed mushrooms and some vegetables.
Shortly after their food arrives I approach their table for a quality check. The three that had ordered from the menu complimented me on the suggestions I'd made for them and raved about their entrees. The fourth gentleman promptly and rudely begins to complain about the portion size of his salmon, calling it "an insult," and "a disgrace." Now we serve an eight ounce fillet of salmon, same as every other restaurant at which I've worked, and some of those places charged ten dollars more for that same portion. So our price for the dish is by no means exorbitant. I offered him any side dish he would like, complimentary, in an attempt to appease the situation, but he just loudly remarked how he would've liked some more salmon, and not only would he not return, but he would also tell EVERY ONE of his many friends. The other couple looked mortified, his wife slapped his arm and told him to stop, and I quietly politely excused myself and left him alone for the rest of the meal. He at least seemed to appreciate that move because he did tip 20% in the end.
I use this example of the gentleman who ordered something off the menu on a busy night- and then had the gall to complain about what he got, to illustrate a simple dining point: Order something from the menu. Ninety percent of the time, the chef is not back there on the line, catering to guest requests. The cooks that actually do prepare the food are trained to execute the items on the menu, so special orders are usually confusing and not made well. Dietary restrictions can usually be easily attended to- just go with something the server recommends for vegetarians, gluten allergies, etc. He or she has served these items to those people in the past, and must have gotten a good response to be recommending them again. Items are on a restaurant menu because those are the things that the restaurant has practiced and does well. Why not order one?
Well maybe tonight is the night I make a million dollars. Until next time, 20% is always accepted.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Last and Loudest
Let's get right into it shall we? Sometimes you can't avoid being the last table in a restaurant. But if you want to fully enjoy your restaurant experience try not to do it. I'll let my ''example" do the talking.
In my intro post I alluded to four middle aged Jersey housewives I served last Friday night, the kind we all know and love, from a nearby affluent suburb I'll call "Holdenfeld" for our purposes. I sat three of them at around seven thirty and the fourth swept in at twenty after eight. Her late arrival was fine except that the original three ladies were halfway into their second of three bottles of wine. No problem, the fourth had brought two bottles of her own, one of which she wanted opened immediately. So after the greetings, the birthday presents, and the indecision I got their three course order in by ten of nine. Needless to say, by the time I cleared their dinners it was just ten o'clock and they were one of two tables left in the room. The other was a party of six which was seated a few tables away from our ladies about an hour afterward.
The party of six had a little wine as well, and were not thrilled about their dessert conversation being interrupted by the boisterous laughter and obnoxious outbursts that were coming from the same direction as the off-putting aroma of high-end perfumes all mixed together. So they began to try to talk over the ladies; sometimes in a mimicking manner and sometimes just trying to comment across their table. Whether the Holdenfeld four were aware of this or completely oblivious, they seemed to get worse at this point.
My fellow server and I, completely finished closing the joint, patiently waited out of sight for the two groups to finish up and leave. This is when the calls and beckons began, shrill voices loudly pointing out the need for more water, more ice on the wine, etc. Great. Beat up on the help when someone else insults you. But I complied with a smile and resumed the anguish that is the wait to be released from work on a Friday night.
But now it was a war. I'd seen this before. The next battle after the one for decibel supremacy is the battle to see who will stay the longest. Almost always, the winning group will leave directly after the one that concedes, satisfied with their supremacy in the test of wills they just fought over their key lime pie. As you guessed it, our ladies were that group, making a last loud request for their corks to be returned (though I'd turned off the music at eleven o"clock) so they could take with them what little wine was left.
Anyone, even a non-restaurant employee, can see how uncomfortable this situation became for everyone- both the guests and the staff. I'm sure that this incident is what both tables will remember about this experience, not the great food or, of course, the spectacular service. I never make the last table feel rushed, but they must feel that way a little when they ask me, without fail, if they are "holding me up." By the way, a server is never gonna respond to this with a genuine, "Actually sir, you are. Would you please get the $#%& out!" So please never ask this.
Just know the place where you wanna eat a little. If you get a calamari craving at eleven at night, go to a spot that's known for its late night menu. And if you do happen to be the last table, don't freak out and get your dinner to go. You're gonna pay for your food so take your time and enjoy it, even order dessert without feeling any pressure. But after three and a half hours and almost five bottles of wine it is time to go.
I promise, an empty room is not a welcome place to dine and food quality can suffer later on in the night, so make sure you get the most out of your experience by dining during "normal" business hours. And remember my friends, 20% is always accepted.
In my intro post I alluded to four middle aged Jersey housewives I served last Friday night, the kind we all know and love, from a nearby affluent suburb I'll call "Holdenfeld" for our purposes. I sat three of them at around seven thirty and the fourth swept in at twenty after eight. Her late arrival was fine except that the original three ladies were halfway into their second of three bottles of wine. No problem, the fourth had brought two bottles of her own, one of which she wanted opened immediately. So after the greetings, the birthday presents, and the indecision I got their three course order in by ten of nine. Needless to say, by the time I cleared their dinners it was just ten o'clock and they were one of two tables left in the room. The other was a party of six which was seated a few tables away from our ladies about an hour afterward.
The party of six had a little wine as well, and were not thrilled about their dessert conversation being interrupted by the boisterous laughter and obnoxious outbursts that were coming from the same direction as the off-putting aroma of high-end perfumes all mixed together. So they began to try to talk over the ladies; sometimes in a mimicking manner and sometimes just trying to comment across their table. Whether the Holdenfeld four were aware of this or completely oblivious, they seemed to get worse at this point.
My fellow server and I, completely finished closing the joint, patiently waited out of sight for the two groups to finish up and leave. This is when the calls and beckons began, shrill voices loudly pointing out the need for more water, more ice on the wine, etc. Great. Beat up on the help when someone else insults you. But I complied with a smile and resumed the anguish that is the wait to be released from work on a Friday night.
But now it was a war. I'd seen this before. The next battle after the one for decibel supremacy is the battle to see who will stay the longest. Almost always, the winning group will leave directly after the one that concedes, satisfied with their supremacy in the test of wills they just fought over their key lime pie. As you guessed it, our ladies were that group, making a last loud request for their corks to be returned (though I'd turned off the music at eleven o"clock) so they could take with them what little wine was left.
Anyone, even a non-restaurant employee, can see how uncomfortable this situation became for everyone- both the guests and the staff. I'm sure that this incident is what both tables will remember about this experience, not the great food or, of course, the spectacular service. I never make the last table feel rushed, but they must feel that way a little when they ask me, without fail, if they are "holding me up." By the way, a server is never gonna respond to this with a genuine, "Actually sir, you are. Would you please get the $#%& out!" So please never ask this.
Just know the place where you wanna eat a little. If you get a calamari craving at eleven at night, go to a spot that's known for its late night menu. And if you do happen to be the last table, don't freak out and get your dinner to go. You're gonna pay for your food so take your time and enjoy it, even order dessert without feeling any pressure. But after three and a half hours and almost five bottles of wine it is time to go.
I promise, an empty room is not a welcome place to dine and food quality can suffer later on in the night, so make sure you get the most out of your experience by dining during "normal" business hours. And remember my friends, 20% is always accepted.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Prepare to be be Served
This blog could be so useful to you. Most of you, my audience, are in college, which implies that you intend to secure some sort of professional position as a means of supporting yourself. One thing you can count on is that you'll be in a grown-up restaurant situation sooner than later and knowing how to handle certain situations with poise and etiquette can greatly improve the impression you make. It is not uncommon these days to be interviewed for a job over lunch at a nice restaurant, you might be invited to happy hour with your boss and his staff, you may have to entertain clients from out of town..... The possibilities are endless, and you may view this blog as your own personal restaurant coach, ready to help you navigate them all. I'm not saying that you may not be able to go out, order a meal, use manners, and tip appropriately, but sometimes uncomfortable situations arise during a dining experience that can affect the impression you make if you don't know how to handle them smoothly and with finesse, without coming off as rude. And if you've had etiquette training, are the perfect formal diner, or work in a restaurant and therefore know what I'm saying- then you can certainly use this blog for a twice-weekly laugh.
For the format of my posts will be simple: I am a waiter working weekends as I grind through college. I'll begin by presenting an example from my shifts over the previous weekend. And by example I mean a situation where one or more of my guests behaved so arrogantly that I or another server was left speechless. Or a guest whose table manners were so repulsive, a nearby table was mortified. Most of you wouldn't believe what I see on a weekly basis so when I get this off my chest after a long weekend, its sure to be hilarious.
But there are plenty of whiny waiter pages out there, why should you check out mine once, maybe twice a week? Well what if I'm ranting about a guy who almost had the perfect first date at my joint and did one little thing to screw it up, and you say to your self, "Hey Self, I've done that!" Or you're out to dinner with colleagues and you use one of my tips, looking smooth in the process. If you benefit just once from advice on my blog, my job is done. And if I make you laugh it's done too.
And I want to make it clear that I'm not some bratty college kid waiting tables for beer money in a "family restaurant." I've worked in the most upscale steakhouses and hotels and the greasiest of diners. In almost 15 years in the restaurant business I've worked all positions and seen the best and worst behavior from restaurant guests. I'm no etiquette expert but I certainly think I'm credible and I can dig down into my experience for examples in the unlikely event that all my tables are well behaved on a given weekend. I've already got something brewing concerning a four-top of drunk desperate housewives I had the pleasure of serving last night.
So look for my posts on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, that should give me time to get over the hangover that comes after spending a weekend at a busy restaurant and get some solid advice on the page. Thanks for your patronage, I hope you enjoy it, and remember: 20% is always accepted!
For the format of my posts will be simple: I am a waiter working weekends as I grind through college. I'll begin by presenting an example from my shifts over the previous weekend. And by example I mean a situation where one or more of my guests behaved so arrogantly that I or another server was left speechless. Or a guest whose table manners were so repulsive, a nearby table was mortified. Most of you wouldn't believe what I see on a weekly basis so when I get this off my chest after a long weekend, its sure to be hilarious.
But there are plenty of whiny waiter pages out there, why should you check out mine once, maybe twice a week? Well what if I'm ranting about a guy who almost had the perfect first date at my joint and did one little thing to screw it up, and you say to your self, "Hey Self, I've done that!" Or you're out to dinner with colleagues and you use one of my tips, looking smooth in the process. If you benefit just once from advice on my blog, my job is done. And if I make you laugh it's done too.
And I want to make it clear that I'm not some bratty college kid waiting tables for beer money in a "family restaurant." I've worked in the most upscale steakhouses and hotels and the greasiest of diners. In almost 15 years in the restaurant business I've worked all positions and seen the best and worst behavior from restaurant guests. I'm no etiquette expert but I certainly think I'm credible and I can dig down into my experience for examples in the unlikely event that all my tables are well behaved on a given weekend. I've already got something brewing concerning a four-top of drunk desperate housewives I had the pleasure of serving last night.
So look for my posts on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, that should give me time to get over the hangover that comes after spending a weekend at a busy restaurant and get some solid advice on the page. Thanks for your patronage, I hope you enjoy it, and remember: 20% is always accepted!
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