We sell cigars at the restaurant where I work. For some people, there is no better way to finish a great meal than with a nightcap and a nice smoke. My last manager capitalized on this idea by promoting "cigars under the stars" on our terrace during a busy weekend. A representative from a scotch distillery stood outside and offered tastings to go along with any cigars our customers had purchased. I sold a lot that weekend, and the guests enjoyed their buzz on a beautiful summer evening. This promotion is one of the few good decisions I remember my old manager making, but that's a topic for another day.
Because of the training we've received, my co-workers and I can help people choose the right smoke for them, and can confidently cut and light their cigar. Make no mistake: this is a step of service I was nervous about at first. Someone is holding a stick in their mouth and reaching out for me to light it on fire as they inhale. Unlike a cigarette, cigars need time to light evenly, and the customer and I are locked in this intimate position for what can feel like minutes. Some guests prefer to do it themselves, in which case we are happy to give them a cutter, matches, and a cedar shingle that aids in lighting.
All of this comes at a premium cost. Customers have to pay for the cigar, of course, but they also pay for the service, our training, and the atmosphere. Our least expensive cigars run in the twenty-dollar range, and they go on up from there. We have pre-embargo Cuban cigars from the 1950's that are like "smoking a piece of history." If cigars like these are kept in the proper environment, they don't "expire" and can be enjoyed decades down the line. Two years ago we sold one man two humidors full of 100 rare cigars for $10,000. That is a sale I will probably never see again, but it was interesting to witness one person drop that much cash on a whim.
Enter today's memorable guest, who had a decidedly different experience. He and his friends had come off the golf course and were looking to have some drinks to celebrate a nice round. His friends all purchased $28 cigars and proceeded to walk outside to light them up. The straggler approached our bartender and told her, "Quick, can I have the cigar that all of my friends just bought? I know exactly where they got it -- right here." She opened up the case and before she knew it, he had grabbed the tube he wanted, taken out the cigar, and headed out to join his buddies.
She took the tube to the register to ring him up, and reading the name of the cigar, her stomach sank. He hadn't grabbed the $28 cigar. He had taken the $500 cigar, and was currently out on our terrace, lighting it on fire. I wasn't there to see it, but I imagine what happened next resembled a scene in an action movie where she leaped over the bar and knocked other guests out of the way while screaming "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" in slow motion, all in an effort to make it outside before the match was struck and that $500 was down the drain.
She did not make it in time.
How she felt, as interpreted by a panda bear.
He had just begun smoking it when she ran out and said, "WE HAVE A PROBLEM." She explained the mix-up to our customer and what ensued next was an hours-long argument between our bartender, the guest, our manager and our security department over whose fault it was that he had gotten the wrong cigar.
In our bartender's defense, the $28 cigar was in a tube that differed in looks from the $500 tube only by a subtle shade.
ON SECOND THOUGHT: They shouldn't be stored next to each other in the humidor, should they?
We offered to split the price with the guest 50%, a price with which he initially agreed and then eventually balked at. Let's not forget -- he smoked the damn thing, even after he learned its cost. However, he left in a huff and came back several times throughout the evening. At issue was the question of whether or not he grabbed the cigar himself, or whether our bartender handed it to him. In the end, who cares? It's his word against ours. But throughout the many debates that ensued with him, I got to witness what I describe as a guest getting "hopping mad" -- so out of control of their anger that they have to physically exert themselves in order to direct their negative energies in some direction. I also refer to it as "Yosemite Sam" syndrome. On his last visit, this particular guest paced like a tiger in a cage while on the phone with our manager, who was driving home to his children at the time.
If you are so furious that you look like this, I have checked out of the conversation and am comparing you to this mental image.
Eventually, our cigar vendor agreed to eat the price due to the fact that they placed nearly identical cigars next to each other, asking for trouble. I suspect that the guest was happy in the end, but views us negatively because of the hassle he went through.
Ironically, the next day we were due for our yearly cigar training. Our new bartender returned from the class and declared that she had learned a lot. "Oh yeah?" I asked her. "Did they teach you not to hand a $500 cigar to someone that only gave you thirty bucks?" It may have been too soon, but busting each other's chops is a long-held tradition in food & beverage, and one that's not likely to go up in smoke any time soon.