On dining out
Jul. 8th, 2007 09:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gurdymonkeyThe following is prompted by a friend's journal entry describing a recent trip to a restaurant. The service was bad, the room was painfully loud, and she said there pretty much wasn't anything that they'd ordered that she would order again. What puzzled me was her statement that she wasn't sure she would go there again.
Wasn't sure? Why would she ever go back? I'm damn sure I wouldn't darken the door based on her description of her evening.
Fast food mostly aside, when I go someplace for a sit-down meal, I expect to enjoy myself. I expect the food to be good, I expect the servers to do their jobs. I expect my order to not be screwed up. I expect my order to turn up in a reasonable amount of time.
Sometimes kitchen disasters happen. We all know this. If my server or the manager comes to the table, apologizes for a screwed up order and fixes the problem quickly, they deserve another chance. In some cases, they've even given the entire table dessert on the house or knocked something off the bill. They're trying - and that makes them worthy of another chance. If disaster seems to be the rule rather than the exception, then that justifies not returning a third time.
I don't know about you, but I work very hard for my money. I expect the businesses I give my money to to work hard for my money too. If they do, I go back. If they don't, I don't. If I don't like the food, I don't go back. If the service was bad, I don't tip and I don't go back.
"You don't tip?" you cry. "But they have to live on that money." Yes, yes they do - but they also have to work for it. I had this argument many years ago with my old roommate in a diner in NJ. Joan had worked her way through college slinging plates in a similar establishment. Our waitress had been extremely surly, the service had been slow and snotty, and when it came time to pay the bill, I refused to put in for a tip. Joan argued with me at length, even though I know for a fact that Joan would have given top notch, friendly, fast service to the devil himself if he'd parked his semi in front of her diner at 2 AM. "Fine," I said, and dumped the contents of my change purse into a half full glass of water. "She can fish for it."
I'll always throw a tip in a tip jar at the fast food Chinese place (and I don't mean the Panda at the mall), near work because the women behind the counter work their asses off! They keep the orders moving, they always say hello. They always cry goodbye as soon as they see me bus my tray - and the food that comes out of that kitchen is always hot, and plentiful, and a good value for the price. (China Cook on the corner of Washington Avenue and Halcyon Drive in San Leandro.)
Likewise the nice young man at Peet's last week who assured me that yes, there were more ginger cookies when I lamented the empty tray in the pastry case, and got me one lickety split.
Or the Mongolian barbecue place in on Greenback Road in Citrus Heights that let us in right before closing time as we staggered in from June Crown. The manager still insisted we all had to have at least three bowls.
Or Sushi Avenue on Marina in San Leandro. It's not the best Japanese food I've ever had, but it's pretty darn close on a consistent basis. The service is friendly and attentive, and you're treated like a regular whether you are one or not. Steve and Mary and their staff work hard to make you feel welcome and well fed.
Fast food mostly aside, when I go someplace for a sit-down meal, I expect to enjoy myself. I expect the food to be good, I expect the servers to do their jobs. I expect my order to not be screwed up. I expect my order to turn up in a reasonable amount of time.
Sometimes kitchen disasters happen. We all know this. If my server or the manager comes to the table, apologizes for a screwed up order and fixes the problem quickly, they deserve another chance. In some cases, they've even given the entire table dessert on the house or knocked something off the bill. They're trying - and that makes them worthy of another chance. If disaster seems to be the rule rather than the exception, then that justifies not returning a third time.
I don't know about you, but I work very hard for my money. I expect the businesses I give my money to to work hard for my money too. If they do, I go back. If they don't, I don't. If I don't like the food, I don't go back. If the service was bad, I don't tip and I don't go back.
"You don't tip?" you cry. "But they have to live on that money." Yes, yes they do - but they also have to work for it. I had this argument many years ago with my old roommate in a diner in NJ. Joan had worked her way through college slinging plates in a similar establishment. Our waitress had been extremely surly, the service had been slow and snotty, and when it came time to pay the bill, I refused to put in for a tip. Joan argued with me at length, even though I know for a fact that Joan would have given top notch, friendly, fast service to the devil himself if he'd parked his semi in front of her diner at 2 AM. "Fine," I said, and dumped the contents of my change purse into a half full glass of water. "She can fish for it."
I'll always throw a tip in a tip jar at the fast food Chinese place (and I don't mean the Panda at the mall), near work because the women behind the counter work their asses off! They keep the orders moving, they always say hello. They always cry goodbye as soon as they see me bus my tray - and the food that comes out of that kitchen is always hot, and plentiful, and a good value for the price. (China Cook on the corner of Washington Avenue and Halcyon Drive in San Leandro.)
Likewise the nice young man at Peet's last week who assured me that yes, there were more ginger cookies when I lamented the empty tray in the pastry case, and got me one lickety split.
Or the Mongolian barbecue place in on Greenback Road in Citrus Heights that let us in right before closing time as we staggered in from June Crown. The manager still insisted we all had to have at least three bowls.
Or Sushi Avenue on Marina in San Leandro. It's not the best Japanese food I've ever had, but it's pretty darn close on a consistent basis. The service is friendly and attentive, and you're treated like a regular whether you are one or not. Steve and Mary and their staff work hard to make you feel welcome and well fed.
