SERVICE PLEASE!

Lately, I have been giving service a lot of thought. My primary thought is how can there be bad service in a bad economy. On the simplest level, I believe organizations providing a service should be able to weed out their lackluster employees in favor of those who will get the job done, with a smile preferably. I believe that in these tough times everyone who is lucky enough to have a job, should be grateful for that job, and therefore should do that job well. It all comes back to what my paternal grandmother Hazel would often say, “Anything worth doing is worth doing well.”

I have been amazed by experiences this spring and summer punctuated by poor service. In April, at a large group dinner to celebrate the end of culinary school, I was brought the wrong drink. The waitress made the situation worse by asking me to try the drink I did not order. I did so, and then said I wanted the one I ordered, please. I’ve been a waitress. She had a big table. I had empathy, but I also simply wanted the drink I ordered. When I told her I wanted my original drink her response was, “Oh I understand, you’re picky. You want it the way you want it.” Excuse you? I am paying for a drink and heck yes I want the way I want it, and where do you come off calling me picky?!!

For my birthday this year, my dear husband bought me a kayaking lesson. As we stood at the counter to pay for the lesson, the two women behind the counter were trying on shoes. And despite the expense of the lesson, which was considerable, they could not pry themselves away from trying those shoes their outdoor store carried. So they rang up our hefty bill while still trying on shoes. I was amazed they did not have the good manners to focus on our transaction for two minutes and express gratitude that in this crummy economy we were contributing to their bottom line. To make matters worse, they could not be bothered to tell us where the kayak lesson started so we had to wander around the town a bit before finding it. I don’t want to frequent their business, but they do have a nice bathroom so whenever we go to that town on the Hudson River we always stop in to use the bathroom. It’s the least they can do.

This past April, I was the service provider. During the last three weeks of culinary school, I was both a dining room attendant (DRA) and the savory expeditor in the student-run café. My primary responsibilities as DRA were to deliver food to tables, clear tables, and make sure customers were enjoying their experience. I liked it. I managed not to dump food or beverage on anyone (my worst fear during this time). Our customers liked asking us questions about our future plans to become world-famous pastry chefs, and kept their disappointment in check when I responded my big plan was to be Brian’s wife and teach yoga.

Customers, or guests as the industry calls them, traveled from far and wide to experience our food and see us at work. I thought they deserved to have a wonderful time. I made sure their tables were clean, avoided sticking my thumb in their food when I delivered it, and met their needs outside of the ordering process. This was my responsibility. Therefore, when the older gentleman argued at me about the tuna salad offerings on our menu and accused me of not knowing my own menu, I smiled and I listened. I was even gracious when he physically got up and marched me over to the menu board so he could “yell” his point at me. This must have been a sight given he was on the frail side and my body readout is: “100% butter.” I refrained from saying “I told you so” when upon yelling the menu at me he realized his point was moot.

Guests, though, have responsibilities too. To be frank, the main one is to not be a pain in the ass. One gentleman summoned me over because his table needed more sugar packets. I brought him sugar packets only to have him tell me that the reason he needed sugar was for his coffee and now he wanted more coffee, even though his cup was nearly full. I brought him coffee only to have him request cream for his coffee even though I had asked about cream when he dismissed me to get his coffee. Dude, bundle your thoughts and ask for everything at once. While I was serving him, our dining room was packed, the line to order was out the door and around the corner, and there were not enough tables to accommodate people who had already ordered. In other words, I did not have time for this. When dining, depending on the environment, be aware of what is going on around you.

Kids. Actually, kids are fine. It’s the parents that left me dumbfounded. I saw kids spill food and drink and the parents would sit there and do nothing. I would come with rags, mops and hazmat crews, and the parents did not lift one finger to help, did not apologize. I figure what that kid learned from his parent during this episode is you never have to clean up your own mess. I understand the parent is somewhat helpless to clean up the mess, but, at least in my mind, social norms dictate acknowledgement of the mess and the inconvenience.

I also witnessed a lot of non-parenting. Just a heads up that waitress does not equal babysitter. Your kid is your responsibility. More than once, kids interfered with my ability to do my job because the parent had let their kid loose. Three years ago during my first restaurant job, I had the same kid wander behind the prepared food counter over and over again and touch stuff, grab stuff, and move it around. It’s a little hard to make a cappuccino or ring an order when your co-worker is a curious 6 year old. I would march him back to his mother and kindly explain due to hot surfaces, glass items and such it was dangerous for him to be back there. Sure enough, five minutes later he was back because his mother couldn’t be bothered to keep her kid in check.

Having written this post about poor service, it is then ironic that I have provided such bad service to you my readers. I have not shown gratitude, and I should because I am so lucky you choose to take time out of your busy lives to read this blog, and even sometimes try the recipes I post here, or to comment about something of interest. I apologize for the outage. I am happy to say, though, that I am back, and will be so on a weekly basis once again. I hope to see you here.