The things people say

A couple who own a local jewelry store were in with their daughter and son-in- law. The husband, "Jeff", left the table to talk to me. He and his wife always drink wine and I noticed that his daughter and her husband were not indulging. I remarked on it and he said oh my kids don't drink and they don't do dope either. Now keep in mind this man is definitely over 60 maybe even close to 70 and has a very well-heeled clientele.
He then proceeded to tell me that he especially enjoys a little dope when he's feeling amorous and find it makes for a delightful evening. I asked him if he finds pot works better than Viagra. With a straight face. Oh yes he said it really mellows and relaxes both of us.
Nothing I said would have led him to confide his aphrodisiac use of an illegal substance. Maybe the wine lowered his inhibitions. You know, in vino veritas and all that.

Certainly, sir

This is a service business and we aim to please. Not to educate. Customers will come in with some odd requests and if the server wants his tip he'll try to accomodate them. Even if the chef throws a pan at his head. One table of educated but uncultured people ordered fettucine alfredo (a heart attack on a noodle that's not actually from Italy) and requested crab cakes served on top. The server said yes, the chef said *^%$##@ and finally said he would make the two items seperately and if she wanted to combine them she could but he didn't want to see it.
Not that all the oddball requests come from the patrons. A new server placed a pasta order in the computer and the chef rushed out of the kitchen, yelling "What the f***!!!" The customer wanted pasta with tomato sauce. The server order pasta bolognese (tomato with meat sauce) and memoed the kitchen to hold the meat. I guess he thought they could just strain it out.

Sanity check

Who in their right mind would start a restaurant? That's what your friends will tell you when you confide your goal--especially if they've worked in one. Other friends who are constantly watching the Food Channel will be envious and fantasize about the restaurant life.

You need several things to succeed. The right location, the right lease, the right timing, good food at the right price, a welcoming host in the dining room. Good health (cause health insurance is an expense you can't afford) and no life because the restaurant will consume you.

And lots of money!! Don't expect to break even for a few years...and the average life span of a restaurant is 5 years. Customers don't understand how you are not raking in the dough if chicken breast sells for $2.50 at the supermarket and you're charging 19.99 for an entree, there has to be lots of profit, right? Factor in rent, triple net, workers' comp, liability insurance, health dept permits, alcoholic beverage permits, tobacco permits, fire inspections, business license, breakage, spoilage, theft, bookeeping and accountant fees, legal fees and it's a wonder anyone makes it past their first year.

But if you're still determined to do it...here are some things I wish I had done from the beginning. Spend the money on a killer website. More and more consumers these days will find you not through advertising but through the web. Thoroughly research your locale. Even if you get a great deal on a lease, if the location's not right, you'll lose your shirt. What kind of vehicular traffic is there? What kind of foot traffic at noontime, evenings and weekends? Is there parking? If you've got a good lease and a good location, you can always change or tweak the menu, make staffing changes, etc. But if the lease is too high or the location not right, nothing else will matter and you should walk away.

Just Say Yes

I don't know if it's peculiar to our area, but a significant portion of our dinner business is driven by pharmaceutical companies. Drugs pay my bills. Pharmaceutical reps book speakers to tout the benefits of their products. The physicians show up to receive continuing education credits, hear about new research, have a great meal that's free, (although not without strings, I'm sure), and get free pens!
One physician in particular really abuses the situation. He immediately orders one of our dessert wines at $65 and drinks it with every course, including his appetizer. He shops our cigar selection and takes several for friends, asking us to put it on the bill as miscellaneous food. He requests cioppino to go and several desserts for his wife, kids, dog, etc. The reps tolerate him because he writes prescriptions galore.
As with any banquet, we ask the reps to guarantee a head count and they often have many no-shows. One doc told me if he wants to go out to dinner he can find someone to pay for it 7 days a week. I was told that the most courteous doctors are pediatricians. If they rsvp they keep their word. Someone recently corrected that and said no, the most courteous are podiatrists because they never get invited to anything.
So contrary to what Nancy Reagan may have told you, when the drug companies call, I just say yes.

Tatto Tattoo

One of my servers has a large pair of red lips tattooed on the side of his neck. He has a similar decal on his car. He tells me when he goes to clubs girls lick their fingers and try to rub off the lipstick from his neck, not believing it's a tattoo. I asked what the significance is of the lips. He said he was in love with a Columbian model who had large lips and took a photo of her to a tatto parlor and asked to have her lips replicated on his neck. So do you feel like she's always with you, I asked. Oh yes he laughed.
A middle aged chef I had was one day emoting about how much he likes tattoos on women, especially hidden ones that are only revealed when naked.
"Do you have a tattoo?" I asked.
"oh, yes", he said. Pause.
"Where is it?" I asked not seeing any ink.
"It's on my cheek", he said and then pointed to his face, "and not this cheek".
"What is your tattoo?''
"It's the Lion of Venice".
"Is it multi-colored?"
"Yes, it's very colorful"
"They tell me if you want colors to remain vibrant in colored tattoos you need to moisturize the skin."
"I do, every day with vanilla butter"

Recession Proof

To survive this recession, oops I mean sluggish economy, and operating under the theory that if you throw enough shit at the wall eventually some of it will stick, we have started a nightclub. Our first group were "emo" kids. Don't know what that is? Neither did I. Stands for emotional. You know, my life sucks, yeah yeah sort of music. The kids have a distinctive look. Like they just stepped out of an anime cartoon. And you can never be too thin. One of their songs actually has the lyrics, "You're too fat to wear skinny jeans".
We tried a goth group another night with a dj who called herself liquid sex. They had great t-shirts. One said, "You're just jealous because the voices talk only to me". Another guest with multiple facial piercings had a shirt that said, "Keep staring. I might do a trick".
At 8 p.m. we're serving a tender veal chop with an aged Brunello and by 10 p.m. the speakers are blasting so loud glasses are vibrating off the shelves.

Please Be Seated

We have two seating choices in our dining room: either a table or a booth. My European husband hates booths and claims they're only found in America. Is that true? Most Americans prefer a booth...even if they're too fat to squeeze into it. If I see an overweight diner entering I often steer them to a table, not offering a booth as a choice. They don't always get the hint and ask if any booths are free. Sometimes I can say all booths are reserved, just like during the holidays, if I see a family coming with 3 strollers, I tell them all tables are reserved. But sometimes they insist anyway and wedge themselves into a booth, often taking the tablecloth with them as it gets caught under their thighs. I have suggested to the servers that we put a scale in front of the booths and ask patrons to weigh first. Anyone over 150 gets a table.
Not being skinny minnnie myself, I empathize with overweight patrons. But I have also been in a situation where I couldn't squeeze into a tight spot at a restaurant and ended up taking the tablecloth off my table and an adjacent one as I tried to get to my seat.
I have an elderly patron who's thin and always requests a booth. Then complains about drafts every time the door opens. I offer to re-seat her at a more sheltered table, but she insists on remaining in a booth. Her server tells her every time the door opens take a sip of wine and you won't feel cold.

Unlikely Candidates

It takes a certain kind of person to be attracted to a server job, do well, and stay. Many people try it thinking they'll make fabulous tips and have a flexible schedule. That can happen but while you may work a weekend dinner for $200 or more in tips, you'll also work a Monday lunch for $15. You have to give the impression of being accomodating and check any attitude at the door. You need to read people and develop a rhythm for serving your customers. Show up with the right thing as they expect it and know when to get lost.
We had two unlikely servers. One was a European immigrant who had attended law school in her native country and dropped out one course short of graduating. She was knowledgable, well-spoken, but very slow and not motivated by money. She got pregnant unexpectedly and quit the restaurant life.
Another server was an ordained minister, moved to our area where his wife got a residency in a pediatric program, and worked as a server because he couldn't find a ministerial job. He lacked server skills and we never gave him large tables that might request seperate checks as he invariably screwed that up. However he was well spoken and humble. He always sold lots of specials because he was so good at describing them and was one of our best sellers as he desperately needed money. He eventually got a pastor's job and left. We miss him.

The Doctor is In

Running this place is like having more kids. Sometimes I think the ideal business is one with no employees. My chef has had some marital problems and is on anti-depressants to cope with his guilt over an extra-marital affair. He and his wife are back together and trying to start fresh. One recent night, around 8 p.m. or so, he came up to me and said, "I feel so bad", with tears running down his face. Knowing he was on anti-depressants I asked if he felt suicidal. He said, "What is suicidal?" I said, "Do you want to kill yourself?" He said, "Yes". Meanwhile, one of our Mexican American servers walked up to ask me a question and the chef instantly composed himself and stopped crying. Machismo reigns, I guess. They save their best performances for me. I told him to call his wife, have her pick him up and head to the ER.
Next two days he was off and came back almost bubbly, telling me his meds had been altered and he felt embarassed for crying in front of me. I meanwhile had spent the two days with my stomach in knots, thinking he was having a breakdown, wouldn't be able to work, no one in the kitchen could fill his shoes, etc.
Next business, I swear, will have no employees.

A tip on tipping

This is not a discourse on whether or not tipping is necessary. It's a given, to me, that you must leave a tip in the United States when receiving table service.
Some categories of people tend to tip more and some less. Probably the best tippers are current or ex-restaurant workers. I can't say that women tip less than men although they may drink less so the overall bill is lower, leading to less money in the tip. But the percentage is not necessarily lower than men.
Europeans tip less because that's the custom in their countries so if I detect a European visitor I add 18% to the check before it goes to the table and have yet to get a complaint.
My definition of a cheap tipper is someone who tips exactly 15% of the bill before tax. That's a penny pinching miser, and includes a prominent local politician. Not the best way to get my vote.
What is the difference to the customer between tipping 15% or 20%? In most cases a few bucks. That is not going to greatly impact the customer but will make a huge difference to the server. Not just to his pocket but also to his attitude and mood.
Remember, if something doesn't go right with your restaurant visit, it very often is beyond the server's control. Don't punish him because the sous chef called in sick or the dishwasher went on a bender. If I eat out and a server is truly negligent I tip him 15% and either never patronize that restaurant again or ask for someone else's station when I go back.

The dish on chicks

First of all, as a tutorial on pc etiquette, you're living in the dark ages if you still say "waittress". They are now servers, whether male or female, just like actresses are actors. But starlets are still starlets? I digress.
As a woman and mother of two daughters who were once upon a time servers, I'm surprised to have arrived at this point of view...but I wouldn't hire a female server again. I have had female servers who were experienced and knowledgable but were liabilities in many ways. They wiggled out of physical work like lifting and moving tables or changing the 50 lb boxes of soda syrup and one could only carry two plates at a time. A real liability on a busy night. The ones who were not teenagers were single moms with myriad problems. They'd chitchat to the kitchen staff about selling their eggs to pay the mortgage, escape to the ladies room to go over homework via cell phone with their kids for a good 20 min., be doubled over by the coffee machine with menstrual cramps, etc. Men have that mentally unhealthy skill of compartmentalizing which makes it frustrating to be in a relationship with them but makes them focused at work. The female servers I had showed up at work dragging all their problems with them.
A certain amount of flirting with customers can increase a server's tips but I had one who went way overboard. She told us she had once been a stripper and saved her biggest smile and best wiggle for male clients. Several men came in pricipally to see her. When she quit, I lost their business.
Women in the kitchen have been no problem. But in the dining room, it's men only.

The Inspector

An elegant senior citizen had lunch with her brother and told me she used to own a lingerie store a few blocks away but was now retired and living in another state. I had heard of how classy her shop was and looked forward to serving a discerning diner. She ordered one of our house wines, which we bring to the table in an individual carafe, pour a taste for the customer to try and then pour the rest into his wine glass upon his approval.. This customer told me if we don't bring the wine bottle to the table the customer may think we've done a bait and switch (that's why you smell and taste first, lady) and why don't we fill the glass all the way. 'Cause it ain't orange juice, that's why.

Lover Boy

One of the chefs we hired was newly divorced, a real horndog, and a serial lover. After one particular amorous night, he called Maria and left a message on her voicemail telling her how much he had enjoyed the previous evening and he hoped they could do it again soon. "Maria" returned his call and said, "I'm glad you enjoyed it but I wasn't there". Click. He told me he has so many numbers for various Marias stored in his phone that he must have called the wrong one and could no longer remember who was the right one.

Dirty Linen

The same week the bum broke in and played piano, drinking Jack Daniels, we had more excitement focused on our linen bin. Our linen is picked up and new linens delivered once a week. The driver left me a note saying he didn't take the dirty linen as it wasn't bagged and please make sure it's in bags next week. I yell at staff asking who didn't bag the now moldy linens and they all assure me they're not guilty. As they're re-bagging soiled napkins with disposable gloves on, they excitedly call me over and show me a...GUN!...and...a clip of bullets that had been tossed into our linen bin, which we keep outside. Of all the places to dump a gun!

Party of One

Last week, one day when we were closed, we got a call from our alarm company about 8:30 at night, saying our alarm was going off at the restaurant. My husband and I both went to the restaurant and everything was locked. Three hours later, the alarm company calls again and says the alarm is going off again. I'm already in bed and ask my husband to please check it out. He goes to the restaurant, enters through the back door, and sees someone in the dining room seated at the piano, with a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on top of the piano. After being somewhat sure that the intruder is not packing, my husband walks over to him and says, "What the f* are you doing here?" The bum replies that he owns the place. My husband takes a picture of him with his cell phone and calls the police. After the police fill out their report, they hand the bottle of Jack back to my husband. He said he couldn't serve it and gave it back to the cops. Before they put the intruder in the police car, they sprayed him with disinfectant.
Gives a new meaning to Happy Hour.

Intro

I own a restaurant in a mid-size city that's one hour from a very large city. Both shall remain nameless as well as the name of the restaurant since my goal in writing this blog is to save on therapy. I want to rant and rail and do it anonymously as a way to relieve pressure. If you've ever fantasized about owning a restaurant, I can give you a complete report from the trenches.