One For The Ages...

Oh man, I really did get one for the ages last weekend, and I'm gonna use this lady to illustrate two points...you'll see...

So I could tell that this middle aged lady didn't get out much; she was forty five minutes early for her reservation and was extremely proud of the thirty dollar groupon she had and waved it around like a flag when I sat her.  Her excitement also caused her to stop me three times (I was by myself and kinda busy) to inquire about the menu and the specials, which I knew I'd have to repeat when her girlfriend finally found a liquor store and joined her. One of her ridiculous questions was, "I only order filet mignon but is there any other steak you'd recommend?"

Now the recommendation I made wasn't even some off the cuff  B.S. suggestion to get her to order something more expensive or anything.  I happen to think that filet mignon is an under-sized and over-priced cut in any restaurant; I think it is a cut that lacks flavor and at "The Joint," a restaurant with many cuts of grass-fed Argentinian beef, to taste the difference I honestly think guests should try a different cut. And again, the coupon that had become a place-mat on the table reminded me that value might also be an issue, so I recommended a generous twelve-ounce flat iron steak that is actually less expensive than our filet, not something I'm known for.

So her flat iron steak arrives an hour later because her guest, who had finally arrived, dragged out the meal by ordering three courses when the original lady only ordered an entree.  She makes a small incision in the steak, pushes it away, and looks as though she is about to cry.  Half a bottle of wine in, her steadily more obnoxious girlfriend flags me down and informs me that her friend is not happy.  She explains that her steak is "bloody", and the salad it came with was just "drenched leaves."  I promptly remove the steak to be cooked longer and immediately bring her a house salad, decidedly more impressive than the mixed greens she abhorred.  Upon returning the flat iron, I noticed the cut she had made was kind of against the grain, so I politely recommended she cut it with the grain.  She did this, slicing the steak into twelve or fourteen slices, then she loudly put down her silverware, and again, pouted like a child. This time I actually implored her to try the steak, to which she responded:  "You told me this would be more tender and flavorful than a filet mignon.  You said it was better."    "In my opinion, ma'am." I replied.  I had made a recommendation, like I'd done a thousand times, and never had I been lambasted like this. And how did she know it didn't taste like it was marinated in liquid gold?  She hadn't even tried it yet.

Then I did something I haven't done in years; I turned the table over to a manager.  I was busy, I knew I could not make her happy, so I simply gave up.  Now the manager I sent over was happened to be the owner, who saw the coupon like it was on fire, and I knew this woman was not going to get her filet mignon, which she was hinting at with her theatrics about my suggestion anyway. The owner brought hot granite and extra sauce, so the lady could cook the steak as she pleased and add flavor if she desired. If she wanted filet mignon, she was gonna have to kill both me and my boss, go into the kitchen and cook it herself.  Once she realized this, she finally tasted her flat iron steak, remarked that it was "good," and proceeded to eat the whole  thing.  After the owner presented them with quite a nice dessert sampler for free, they hemmed and hawed over their twenty seven dollar check (after the coupon), took the wrong credit card slip, stayed for an hour, couldn't find the right credit card slip, were obnoxious to the point other patrons noticed and were appalled...it was a nightmare.  They finally paraded out after explaining they still left a tip, five bucks, because it "wasn't my fault."

Take what you want from this but I can think of two lessons we can learn from these two D.H.s (from now on-desperate housewives):  When you ask a waiter for a suggestion, that's exactly what it is, a suggestion.  I didn't put a gun to that lady's head and make her order the flat iron steak.  If she came in there knowing she wanted a filet, then that's what she should have gotten instead of getting on my nerves with pointless questions and then faulting me for answering them.  Second, my friends from developing countries will tell you that if these ladies from "Holdenfeld" came from a place where people were starving all around them, they wouldn't be so quick to have me throw away a twenty three dollar steak in place of a twenty four dollar one.

Sorry this one was kind of a rant, but as you can see, this table really was one for the ages.  But hey, these types of tables remind me why I went back to school!  Til next time, Remember folks 20% is always accepted.