Customer Service

Who doesn’t want good customer service? Probably the same idiots that don’t practice good customer service in their own jobs. Good customer service is NOT a request; it is a condition of employment. That from a pep talk to one of the many restaurant staffs I hired and trained. This does not solely pertain to the food-service industry, but it’s a starting point. The pay structure. Working for tips to earn your living. Getting paid minimum wage and hoping to supplement your income through hard work and efficiency. Now, I have always over-tipped because I know first-hand the frustration of working hard, doing what you think was a great job of taking care of your guests, and whaaat? No tip! Bullshit!

In addition, I don’t think merely showing up for your shift is enough to garner you a minimum 15% off of every guest check. I write in my book Emotions: Not your Mama’s ABC’s about my thoughts on tipping. If I am merely acknowledged by my server, that is a good start for them. I understand the wait when I can see a packed house and a full hostess check-in sheet when arriving. No problem. I could have eaten at home, but I enjoy the large glasses of fresh-squeezed OJ and fresh homemade pies. As a diabetic, neither are on my menu, but a guy can dream….

In my entire life I have only failed to tip once.

This was in a modest café replete with an eight-stool counter and about six cracked leather booths that lined the wall. There was literally one person sitting in a counter stool, stirring his coffee. Karen and I took a booth and waited. The lone waitress walked by the man sitting at the counter, and wordlessly past us in the booth without so much as a nod to our very existence on this planet. Miffed, I thought, no biggie. Must have something on her mind. I’ll cut her some slack. I retrieved two plastic-covered menus from the deserted hostess stand and watched open-mouthed as the waitress completely ignored the man asking for a refill of his mug. She kind of aimlessly ambled through the kitchen door and disappeared.

I looked to the other customer. He just shook his head and smiled in disbelief, got up, went behind the counter, and grabbed the pot and two mugs. He limped over to our booth and set the mugs and pot down.

“They have a new server this morning. She is all over the map. I don’t think she has ever done this kind of thing before. You might be waiting a while.”

We thanked the man and patiently sipped our coffee.

So we’re here for 21 minutes (I timed it). The waitress comes out again without even acknowledging we were there. I was getting irritated. She looked dazed.

When it finally arrived, breakfast was a joke. No silverware. The food order came out wrong twice. I had finally reached my limit. I counted out the exact amount of the check, placed it next to the cash register, and turned to leave.

The front door swung open and in burst a young girl in tears. “Mom!” she cried. Out comes our waitress, running to her daughter. “Billy’s in the hospital. Let’s go.”

The waitress turned to Karen and I like it was the very first time she had ever laid eyes upon us. Then she bounded out the door with her daughter. After some quick deductive reasoning, I dropped an extra twenty next to the register

Customer Service

Who doesn’t want good customer service? Probably the same idiots that don’t practice good customer service in their own jobs. Good customer service is NOT a request; it is a condition of employment. That from a pep talk to one of the many restaurant staffs I hired and trained. This does not solely pertain to the food-service industry, but it’s a starting point. The pay structure. Working for tips to earn your living. Getting paid minimum wage and hoping to supplement your income through hard work and efficiency. Now, I have always over-tipped because I know first-hand the frustration of working hard, doing what you think was a great job of taking care of your guests, and whaaat? No tip! Bullshit!

In addition, I don’t think merely showing up for your shift is enough to garner you a minimum 15% off of every guest check. I write in my book Emotions: Not your Mama’s ABC’s about my thoughts on tipping. If I am merely acknowledged by my server, that is a good start for them. I understand the wait when I can see a packed house and a full hostess check-in sheet when arriving. No problem. I could have eaten at home, but I enjoy the large glasses of fresh-squeezed OJ and fresh homemade pies. As a diabetic, neither are on my menu, but a guy can dream….

In my entire life I have only failed to tip once.

This was in a modest café replete with an eight-stool counter and about six cracked  leather booths that lined the wall. There was literally one person sitting in a counter stool, stirring his coffee. Karen and I took a booth and waited. The lone waitress walked by the man sitting at the counter, and wordlessly past us in the booth without so much as a nod to our very existence on this planet. Miffed, I thought, no biggie. Must have something on her mind. I’ll cut her some slack. I retrieved two plastic-covered menus from the deserted hostess stand and watched open-mouthed as the waitress completely ignored the man asking for a refill of his mug. She kind of aimlessly ambled through the kitchen door and disappeared.

I looked to the other customer. He just shook his head and smiled in disbelief, got up, went behind the counter, and grabbed the pot and two mugs. He limped over to our booth and set the mugs and pot down.

“They have a new server this morning. She is all over the map. I don’t think she has ever done this kind of thing before. You might be waiting a while.”

We thanked the man and patiently sipped our coffee.

So we’re here for 21 minutes (I timed it). The waitress comes out again without even acknowledging we were there. I was getting irritated. She looked dazed.

When it finally arrived, breakfast was a joke. No silverware. The food order came out wrong twice. I had finally reached my limit. I counted out the exact amount of the check, placed it next to the cash register, and turned to leave.

The front door swung open and in burst a young girl in tears. “Mom!” she cried. Out comes our waitress, running to her daughter. “Billy’s in the hospital. Let’s go.”

The waitress turned to Karen and I like it was the very first time she had ever laid eyes upon us. Then she bounded out the door with her daughter. After some quick deductive reasoning, I dropped an extra twenty on the counter (on top of the one Karen had already slipped onto the pile).

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: