It’s All in the Attitude
Published by Bill November 26th, 2006 in Do Unto Us – Or Else.We’re your customers. That’s right, we pay your bills - so listen up. We might forgive you for leaving the salt out of the beans; for too-thick vegetables julienne; for a tasteless soup; for an occasional tough chicken fried steak. Maybe even for making us wait a bit too long to be seated or for well-intentioned but under trained waiters and waitresses who provide inadequate table service. But we will never forgive a bad attitude - yours or your staff’s.
Picture three attendees of the very first “Wine Spectator Wine Experience” seated in a nice corner booth in New York’s famous old, Le Circ Restaurant. The captain approaches to take a drink order. One of the guests wishing to be respectful and call the captain by name says, “You’re not wearing a name tag, so I don’t know you name.”
The Captain replies very contemptuously, “This is not a factory.”
The guest pauses for a moment, produces a newspaper reporter’s notebook in which he had written a day of wine notes, makes certain the captain sees the newspapers’ name on the cover, opens it and begins writing.
The Captain looks nervous. “What are you writing?”
“I’m writing ‘This is not a factory’.” The guest smiles up at the captain.
“You can’t write that.” The captain squirms.
“Of course I can write it.” The guest continues to smile. “It’s a direct quotation. Right, guys?” His friends nod their affirmation.
“Yes, but . . .”
“Hey, it’s what you said, right?”
“Yes, but you shouldn’t write that in a newspaper.” The captain looks a little frazzled.
The guest puts down his pen, smiles broadly and holds out his hand. “Maybe we got off to a bad start. My name is Sam. What’s yours?”
The relieved captain pumps the guest’s hand. “Carl, sir. My name is Carl.”
“Carl, I need to ask you a very important question.”
“Anything, sir.”
“Are you going to be part of the problem tonight, or part of the solution?”
Old Carl does everything but a soft shoe dance while juggling soufflés. The bad attitude is cured - at least for that night.
But what about the rest of us average folks, your regular customers, who lack the props and leverage of the wine writer just discussed. How do we cure your restaurant’s negative attitude? Sadly, we don’t.
Instead, we eat our meals and leave. We forget about how hard you work and how much money you spend making your restaurant look inviting and wonderful. That incredible meal your kitchen staff prepared for us: we forget that too. But that bad attitude gnaws at us until we tell our experience to about a dozen other potential customers. Then we forget your restaurant.
We understand that an employee with a bad attitude can victimize the most dedicated, customer-oriented owner/manager. What we don’t understand is why this person is still an employee. That makes us suspicious from where the attitude originated. Did the person pick it up from other employees or maybe from the restaurant management? It seems to us that restaurant owners or managers need to hold a mirror up and not see themselves, but rather see their attitude as it reflects in their employees. We’ve all held jobs, some even in restaurants, and we know how employees magnify the tiniest management negativity.
In the end we really don’t care from where your restaurant’s bad attitude originated, we just don’t want to be around it. We’re your customers - just simple folk who want to be appreciated not aggravated.
What kind of fool asks the captain his first name? His name is “Captain”, period, just as the waiter’s name is “Waiter” and the waitresse’s name is “Waitress.” Most people think it is incredibly tacky to have wait staff introduce themselves by their names. I’m not there to socialize with them; I’m there to have them serve me. I do my part courteously and they should do theirs. At the end of the night we go our separate ways.
As a former restauranteuse, I always try to discern what makes an individual cross before condemning him. I know how hard these people’s jobs are. If the service is poor I ask if they have too many tables. Frequently they do — someone called in sick. If the restaurant is empty and I get poor service (the most common time for poor service), I tell the wait person why they are not getting a tip after first checking to see if there is a problem in the kitchen. I’ve never really been in a place with bad attitude, just poor service, and there is usually an explanation for that.
Lovergirl: An archetypal upperclass approach to those faceless invisible minions who toil to enrich the lives of the rich. Just a cut above whistling dog-style for the waiter, as was the classic appoarch in Mexico.
In a recent long haul Amtrak journey, I was treated to superior attitude by the Dinning Car Steward. The Steward knocked on the door of my sleeper compartment and asked “what time would you like to eat sir”. Since I had planned to visit the lounge car before dinner and indulge in a onboard cocktail or 3, I replied “7:30 would be great!” The reply was, “7:15 is available.” I humbly accepted and wondered why I was asked in the first place.
At 5:00 the calls started over the train PA, “5:00 dinner reservations please come to the dinning car.” 5:10, last call for the 5:00 dinner reservations.” I thought, mmmmmmmmmm, pretty strict here. As the hours passed, more stern warnings from the Steward continued over the PA. Yikes! I kept watching the time, not wanting to be a second late. Deathly afraid to get too cocktailed as I did not wish to be chastised for a late arrival. Several scotches later it was 6:55. Due to the Acela-like speed of the Califonia Zepher over rock blasted steel reinforced tracks somewhere in Kansas or (was it Missouri) hmmmmm, tipsy by now, I proceeded to the dining car. The train was violently rocking by this time and it was 4 cars to my scrumptious dinner, tuff get to even for a young dude without a hoverround.
A couple I had visted with had a 7:15 reservation and were in front of me, it was 7:05. They asked the Steward if they could be seated early…..”NO YOU MAY NOT!” (There were 6 passengers in a dining car made for 70.)
I jumped in the head not wishing to be associated with these horrible trouble makers (they were in the upper 70s) fearing I would be thrown off the train with them in the desert with no water, food or my hoverround. They were sent back to their compartment. I hid in the bathroom, knees knocking, for twenty minutes until 7;14.
When i arrived, with a big ole scotch chesshire grin, I was told “JUST A MINUTE, WE HAVE TO RESEST.”