EPIC Fail

As a server, there are certain issues that will come up from time to time that are completely out of our control.  Kitchen failures are a probably the most frequent offender.  I can order the food on time, input exact specifications into the system I need and fire the courses when it’s needed with perfection.  But if the kitchen fails to produce what I’ve requested (wrong meat temperature, sauce is incorrect, entrée is cold, or the one of the most frustrating fiascos – slow ticket times), it’s simply out of my control. The only thing I can do is correct the situation after the bomb has already gone off.   Correcting a meat temperature or a sauce issue is usually fairly simple.  But dealing with a long ticket time can be one of the most frustrating issues we are faced with as servers.  Because usually it’s not an easy fix; there’s usually a legitimate reason it’s taking a long time. 

On top of that, the customer usually gets the most impatient when having to wait a long time, and understandably so.  It’s annoys us too.  Believe me. 

“Did they send someone out on a boat to catch that fish?”

“Is that tuna being flown in from Japan right now?”

“I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“I would have ordered right when I sat down if I knew it was going to take this long.”

“I’m late for a meeting.”

What’s going on back there?  Got some amateur cooks back there today?”

“I’ve been timing you.  It’s been 23 minutes.”

“Do I need to go back there and cook it myself?” 

UGH.  Lord help me not slap someone.  

It’s beyond annoying when people think they’re being funny or original with their snarky comments.  Because they’re not.  We’ve heard it all.  And from our point of view, it borders disrespectful and rude to talk to us like that.  We know it’s taking a while.  We’re working on it.

Last week, the kitchen had a meltdown of epic proportions.   I don’t want to throw our kitchen under the bus because I know there were other outside factors involved as to why the kitchen failed so miserably.  But on this particular day, most of the food was taking 30 minutes to an hour to get to the table.  

We were expecting a ridiculously busy day.  My GM had staffed the servers generously.  We had seven of us on the floor.  Even on a normal busy day we only have five servers on.  There were extra managers on hand, extra greeters and I am assuming, extra kitchen staff this day as well.  We had about 120 reservations on the books from noon to 12:30pm.  We sat about 130 people in a half an hour.  This group was at a convention and had their break from noon to 2:00pm.  So yes, they all had to be back at their meetings at the same time.  As far as a restaurant is concerned, this is the worst possible scenario.   

Within about 20 minutes, all seven servers had a full section.  Most tables were four to six people or more.  There were plenty of joiners as well - people who show up late to the table and order their food and beverage after everyone else has ordered both, which always screws up the flow of the server as well as the kitchen. 

Beverages were served, food orders were taken and entered into the system and at that point it was a waiting game.  All we could do was cross our fingers, hope and pray for a miracle the food would come out in a timely manner.

Not a single entrée was coming out on time.   All of the guests were beginning to helplessly stare at us.  As much as we would have liked to ignore everyone and hide in the prep kitchen, we had to face the hostile, ravenous crowd head on. 

Table 22 had been staring me down for a while.  It took over 25 minutes for their appetizers to come out.  I had to bug the kitchen several times to even make that happen.  I fired their main entrée before they even received their apps and when I went back to the kitchen to tell them to rush it, their ticket was at least 20 tickets behind others.  With the kitchen staff running around and cussing and screaming, two managers on the line and two food runners stressed out like I’d never seen before, I felt awful asking about table 22, but I had no choice.  It’s my job.  I touched base with the table, letting them know I asked the kitchen about their food and told the manager you were in a hurry, they just looked up at me with sheer disappointment.  I told them,  “I’m doing everything I can.”  Shortly thereafter, two of the four men walked out and said, “We have to go.  We can’t wait any longer.”   My face went red with frustration and helplessness.  Of course, within two minutes after they left, their entrees were delivered to their table.  The two grumpy men still sitting asked for their friend’s burgers to be boxed up to go.  I sent my manager over to their table to apologize.   He bought their entire meal, over $110.  As I apologized profusely one last time, the last guy was kind enough to leave me a $20 on the table. 

Meanwhile, other guests were dropping like flies.  All of us were boxing up food to go.  People were just straight walking out – not paying, just leaving.  Guests were livid; asking for managers, telling us this was their worst dining experience they’d ever had.  Management was discounting and/or giving away meal after meal. 

In the midst of this epic meltdown, after 50 minutes had passed with no food at table four, one of the servers asked them if a quick tap dance would make them feel better (she’s a bit quirky).  Apparently they said yes she did a quick ten-second number.  Her table and a couple next to theirs clapped and chuckled.  At least she was able to turn that situation around.  Lucky for her, these people were not in a hurry.  That definitely helped.  Their food finally arrived 56 minutes after it was ordered.  Their entire meal was taken care of - of course.

 

I remember thinking, “Just get through the day without a complete mental breakdown.  There’s no way tomorrow can possibly be any worse than today.” 

Get through it and simply survive.  That’s what we did; the servers, the bussers, the runners, the greeters, the kitchen staff, the management, the entire team.  We survived. 

And on a day like that, that’s all you can hope for.  ~ HK ~

The Young, The Smug and The Restless

You never know what to expect when working a private party.  I always wonder what type of group will show up.  Will it be a mellow sophisticated wine drinking crowd or a rowdy beer-drinking group?  Will they end up ordering more food than they planned or will they simply pick at the appetizers leaving leftovers for the staff to consume in the prep kitchen?  Is it a birthday, anniversary or a work event?  All of these factors come into play as far as the vibe of the event and the personality of the people … and how much my tip will be. 

With the group I had a couple nights ago, I had no idea of what I was about to get myself into.  In the end, I had to take the bad with the good.   

The host arrived early and we talked about the timing of the food, the alcohol minimum of $1500 that had been predetermined and other necessary reception details.  He ordered a Macallen 12 on the rocks.  I thought, “Cool.  This could be a sign they are going to drink well and reach their minimum easily, or perhaps, and hopefully from a financial point of view, go over their minimum (which means more money in my pocket at the end of the night). 

In the blink of an eye, about 25 young men in suits and ties stormed in.  They immediately gathered around the bar and began ordering mostly hard liquor.  I thought, “Okay, my assumption was correct.  We’ve got some serious drinkers in the house.  It’s going to be a good night.”

But my attitude quickly changed shortly thereafter, right about the time the second group of males walked in.  There were about 20 of them, all under 25 years old, and much more feisty and pretentious than the first.  A few of these whippersnappers came up to me and asked for three Macallen 25, neat.  Keep in mind, Macallen 25 is $105 a pop.  Wow.  Now I’m stoked.  But I’m also wondering who orders a $100 drink at a reception that someone else is paying for?  Well, apparently these conceited wise guys do.

I brought them their first round of Macallen 25.  Then after about ten minutes as I was taking more drink orders around them, I saw they were smoking cigars.  I politely told them they couldn’t smoke on the patio but they could smoke on the boardwalk, literally five feet away.  One of them said, “We just ordered three Macallen 25.  I’m pretty sure we can do what we want.”  First of all, they weren’t even paying the bill for this event!  What a ridiculous and arrogant response.  Second of all, it’s the California law; regardless of how much money you’re “spending.”  Eventually I had my manager deal with them and their cigars.  And even after my manager spoke with them, they technically were still smoking too close to the restaurant.

They quickly kept ordering drink after drink and started to get rowdier, louder and even more obnoxious.  They had a pedicab stop on the boardwalk and blast music for them.  They got him to play LMFAO’s “Sexy and I know it.”  Meanwhile, my only table outside next to this party immediately waved me over and told me to get rid of the cab and the music or they would have to move or leave altogether.  So of course I had to tell the pedicab to leave.  Not surprisingly, their drunken response was to just hire the pedicab and take turns riding it down the boardwalk instead.  At least I didn’t have to deal with a portion of them for ten minutes intervals.

Then the truth came out.  One of the guys who was drinking the Macellen 25 told me, “You know why were ordering the most expensive drinks?  Because we hate the guy who is hosting the party.”  Wow.  What a bunch of upstanding citizens. 

Of course I had to tell the host when we hit the minimum of $1500, which was fairly quick as you can imagine.   Shortly thereafter, he told me not to sell any more Macallen 25.  So in response, the cheeky bastards started ordering Macallen 18, a measly $50 a shot.  But once his tab hit $3000 he pulled the trigger and stopped.  Smart man.  Those guys would have made him go bankrupt if they could have. 

The party only lasted two hours.  When I told them they were cut off and the party was over, they actually begged me to add four more shots of Macallen 18… “Just one more round!”  Yeah right.  When I told them I couldn’t, he was so furious it looked like smoke was going to blow out of his ears.  Then the devil actually asked me for a hug.  I told him to “Relax,” and I walked away.

When it was all said and done, the tip was tremendous.  So was it worth dealing with a bunch of young, smug and rude boys and the snowballing issues they caused me throughout my shift?  With the fresh wad of money in my wallet and driving away with all of that behind me, I have to admit... yes. 

Yes it was.    ~ HK ~

Retired FBI Convention

Old people: slow moving, hard of hearing, confused, little to zero appetite, potentially a bit crazy and almost always are low tippers.  Not the most superlative group of people to wait on.  However, I’ve realized with a little extra special attention, the elders can be very appreciative and quite kind. 

There was a convention in town and suddenly the restaurant was full of senor citizens who were FBI veterans.  Some of them were firecrackers and some were just barely hanging on.  Of course my first reaction to seeing the restaurant filled with old-timers was not a good one.  Everyone likes his or her jobs to be effortless; challenging, yet non-stressful.  When the restaurant fills with a group of potentially high maintenance (and/or time consuming) guests, we immediately tend to get stressed. 

I tried to change my attitude and embrace this old school group.  I knew I had to approach them differently.  I had to speak slower, clearer and keep it professional. 

As fate would have it, one of the first tables I greeted that day made me see things differently.  I asked where they were from.  Oddly enough, they were from Tustin, CA, where I was born and raised and where my grandparents have lived since the sixties.  I immediately asked if they knew them, but unfortunately they did not.  Regardless, we started talking about shopping centers and high schools in the area and they seemed to appreciate the connection I made.   After I slowly told them the special, took their drink orders of two hot teas, a decaf and a low fat milk, I walked away with a strange familiarity.  I was thinking of my grandparents. 

Then it hit me, albeit obvious.  These FBI vets are all someone’s grandparents.  So I decided to treat them like my own.  Luckily I wasn’t slammed so I was able to give all of my vets the extra TLC they deserved.  I approached them with much more patience, over-the-top kindness and tried my best to give them stellar service even though I knew my tips would most likely only be 10% (or 15% if I was lucky), because let’s face it, that’s how the old folks grew up tipping.

My day was much more personally satisfying after this approach.  After hearing other servers complain about typical older crowd issues like repeating the special several times at the same table, lots of split orders, low check averages and poor tips, I just simply smiled; because my day was much more meaningful than those trivial annoyances.

I didn’t make that much money those few days, but my soul felt a bit wealthier.  All right that was a bit cheesy I’ll admit.  But I honestly felt better about myself by taking this approach and treating them like my own family.   

Because that's how I'd want my grandparents to be treated when they go out.  ~ HK ~