Tales from the Restaurant

Tales from the Restaurant
Where you'll find all the restaurant dirt you'll ever need.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Like a Good Neighbor? Like Hell.

In the hospitality business you expect that when you go out, you will be taken care of. If where you are going happens to be affiliated somehow with someone you know, you should expect that you will be taken care of very well.

This is one of the basic fundamentals of any business.

Sometimes, you do a favor for a friend, and that friend instantly forgets who is doing the favor.

Take last week, for example.

A group from a neighboring business needed a reservation on a moment's notice for about fifteen people on a busy evening. Not only were the managers of the shift excruciatingly accommodating, but several bottles of wine and free appetizers were arranged for them before their arrival.

When they were seated and stuffed full of appetizers, they placed their dinner orders with the very author of this blog. He went around, making sure that of the three things they could each possibly order, each of them would get what they asked for.

But they weren't happy. The protagonist's order-taking computer broke down for a second, temporarily losing one order of the fifteen that was taken. The server noticed quickly, but not quick enough. The unspeakable inevitably happened. Because of the digital screw-up;

The one woman customer ultimately had to...

Under any other circumstances, this would not have been a problem. Yet the next-door Hitler-boss decided to get her mile out of the meal;

"Because I waited 5-7 extra minutes for my meal, EVERYONE AT THIS TABLE is getting a FREE DESSERT!! Do you understand?!?"

Oh, I do. Because we tried to do everything we could (bringing you an alternate meal while your friends were dining/delivering your side dishes beforehand/giving you your dinner for free/bringing extra wine at no cost/suspending your incumbent waiter(s)/ sent your post-packaged dinner back to the chef), you suddenly think it's ALRIGHT to come back to the host stand and tell the innocent-looking hostess that his/her restaurant "REALLY dropped the ball this time?!"

NOTHING ON THIS EARTH is worth the price of your reputation. From now on, everyone in the restaurant will see this;

And will get this--

"Choke on it and die!! RAAARGH!!"

The twat waffle actually left her seat, demanded dessert for everyone, and stormed up to complain to the host stand to alleviate a problem that wasn't actually real. The woman wanted all fifteen of her cunt slaves to have free desserts, free entrees, and free humility. That last thing wasn't quite free, but seemed like it was because of the impending sense of dignity rape she let down on her neighbors. So she will be getting a free additional course a week after her meal, whether she knows it or not. Read on;

I feel that in this instance, my anonymity rule might be acceptably broken. Everyone who reads this--please send a warm letter of recognizance to the Le Pli Spa in Cambridge. Thanks!

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