On those nights when I'm really in the weeds and my blood pressure is going through the roof, I try to take a moment to calm myself down. I repeat the same phrase to myself in an effort to put things into perspective. My mellow mantra is this: It's only dinner. All the ambience and guest engagement and fancy flourishes are wiped away as I try to be a little easier on myself. These demanding customers? They're just eating dinner. If I really screw everything up, it's okay, they'll get another crack at it tomorrow night.
Of course, I try hard -- really hard! -- not to screw everything up. But despite my best efforts, there have been one or two evenings within the past year where my guests' expectations weren't met. In one instance, I was chatting happily with a family about their summer vacations when I noticed their food was taking a while. It finally arrived, and when I went back to make sure they were enjoying everything, the father said to me, "You know, the food is an A+, but the service is an F." I was dumbfounded. I didn't understand how he could suddenly be so angry, and why his ire was directed at ME. We were JUST talking about your upcoming trip to the Puget Sound, you dick.
Yes. It felt like this.
In another instance, one of our regular guests told my manager that his service had been "atrocious" that evening. Oh really? I'm an atrocity? That is a VERY strong word to use to describe the fact that your salad plates weren't cleared in a timely manner. This guy comes in all the time, so it's a cheap shot that I have to constantly revisit. Oh, there's Mr.-Thinks-Sarah-Sucks-at-her-Job at table 23, let's roll out the red carpet.
I'm not the only server who has to deal with these comments, either. My favorite example of guest exaggeration comes from my friend, who was told she ruined a woman's Thanksgiving when the turkey dish came out cold and had to be sent back to the kitchen to be warmed up. "You ruined my Thanksgiving!" she whined. "I don't get to eat with my family!"
Those in the restaurant business know a lot about missing holiday meals with our families.
And here lies the part of the job where servers really earn their money. We have to take these insults and stay calm, cool, and collected. We all know that working in restaurants doesn't require a degree. Writing down what someone wants to eat and telling the chef to cook it isn't rocket science. But how would you react if someone told you -- to your FACE -- that you deserve an F at your chosen career over some trivial nonsense? Do YOU possess the skill to have shit shoveled on you when someone's baked potato is cold? You can't learn that in any class. But we are P.h.D.'s at turning negative crap from customers into heartfelt acknowledgement of their feelings. We diffuse the situation like a SWAT team on a bomb threat, and we try to make it better. Most of this is sincere -- remember, we're trying really hard and genuinely do regret our shortcomings. But a small part of our apologetic reaction is the fact that it's a challenge. A guest wants to try to cut me down with complaints? He'd better bring an axe, because a cheerful disposition is a requirement of my JOB and I'm good at my job no matter what they say. I won't return insults with more anger, and if I can turn the situation around, I will.
Try to stay mad at me. I DARE YOU.
And bless our guests. In the end it's often the "next customer" that makes us feel better. In the case of Mr. Puget Sound, his father pulled me aside toward the end of the meal.
"Bring me the bill," he said.
"Yes sir."
Still holding onto my arm, he said, "Bring me the bill. I think you understand what I'm saying."
We looked into each other's eyes and yes, I knew exactly what he meant. He was embarrassed of his son's comments and wanted to make it up to me. Which he did, to the tune of thirty percent.
That man understood that waiting for your entrees isn't the end of the world. It's only dinner.