Tag Archives: complaints

This Is Where I Live (2)

15 Aug

August 15, 2012

This is an actual email exchange I had with the Senior Hospitality Representative of a major Italian restaurant chain. I won’t use their name, but I’ll just say that if you want to go to a pizzeria they are the numero uno place to go. Am I being too subtle? Anyway, I think the following actual and true email exchange sums up the experience nicely. And of course, I was with Saarah again. Aren’t I always? I’ve been to this place in the past many times and never had an experience like this. Today, Bay Ridge.

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To Whom It May Concern:

I would like to complain about the service I received at your Bay Ridge Brooklyn [name of restaurant]. We went to your restaurant on Wednesday July 25th at about 7:30 pm. The restaurant was mostly empty yet we received very poor service. When my friend and I entered we were openly stared at by the host. Perhaps he does not like seeing an interracial couple. Although we entered together, stood with each other, and spoke together, he seemed unsure if we were really together and instead of asking simply stared at us quizzically. When I asked for a table for two, he left us to look for a table. Why? The restaurant was 90% empty. When he returned he asked us to follow him and asked me to get the menus from the podium. Isn’t that his job? As we walked to the table he inserted himself into the conversation between my friend and me. He made my female companion uncomfortable.

We were seated in the farthest corner of the restaurant. Our waitress, named C—–a, had an attitude and was rude. She slammed plates down, left them on the edge of the table instead of placing them in front of us, and would not pick up the dirty plates. Instead she put out her hand and expected us to hand them to her. We did not even get asked for drink refills until she overheard us complaining. At one point we had a problem with our order, which the manager had spoken to us about previously, and when we told her we did not like the food, she said “what do you want me to do about it?” She said it with an angry tone. When my friend told her she did not want the food, C—–a again said “what do you want me to do about it?” but this time it was openly hostile.

We were not the only table with a problem with her. We complained that is was very cold and she turned off the a/c but left the cord dangling on the bench, forcing someone at the next table to sit on the remote control. Obviously she did not bother to place the remote back where she got it, preferring to make a customer uncomfortable instead. Finally, at the end of the night, she overcharged us on the bill.

As bad as all this was, the worst part was when she brought out a tray of drinks, which contained our two drinks and four drinks for the table next to us. She put the tray down on our table- and crowded us- and served us our drinks. She then left it on our table, served the table next to us, then LEFT THE WET AND EMPTY TRAY ON OUR TABLE when she took further orders from the other group. Simply put she was lazy and rude. She did not check in to see if we needed anything until we complained. She did not take the dirty glasses from our table, just left them stacked on the edge. Even when we asked for a simple bottle of ketchup she did not bring it. She sent over a very confused man who wandered around with the bottle, unsure of what table to bring it to.

We were very disappointed and offended by our evening at the Bay Ridge Brooklyn [name of restaurant]. The service was not only poor but hostile. Even when we mercifully left, there was no one at the podium. We walked out without even a good night from the host. I can honestly say that I never before left no tip for a server. This service was so bad that I not only did not want to leave her a cent, I wanted her to tip me for putting up with her lack of professionalism. We have no intention of returning to your restaurant again.

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Dear ——-,

With the treatment you received from our staff, I can totally understand why you would not want to return.  I can offer no excuses for the rudeness and lack of professionalism from our staff.  Only my most sincere apology.

Please know we do not want to lose you as a customer.

Your experience will be shared with our General Manager and Regional Director.  I would very much like to personally apologize, learn more about the food problems you had, and to try and talk you into giving us another chance.  I can assure you that this is not typical of the service we provide.

Hoping you will give me a call.

K—– B——
Senior Hospitality Representative
Mon-Fri 8:30-4:30 EST
1-XXX-XXXX

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Thank you K—– but I am really not interested in discussing this further. I think my email covered most of it. I wonder if the staff was trying far too hard to be “fun” instead of “professional,” as judged by the fact that C—–a the waitress insisted on giving me a high five during the ordering process and the host was far too busy getting involved in our conversation to bother to pick up a menu. Remember- he asked me to get them from the podium.

The food was the least of the problems. My friend wanted to change the sauce on a particular dish and the manager advised her on some options and gave her the choice to send it back if she didn’t like the dish with the alternate sauce. The manager was the only one to display any courtesy or real interest in customer service.

If one thing stands out from this whole experience, it is C—–a leaving a large, wet, empty tray on our table while she took another table’s order. Bear in mind, the restaurant was almost empty and there were two empty tables within arm’s length she could have put it on. That one incident shows her laziness and blatant disregard for us.

I doubt anything you could tell me would change my mind about returning; although I am interested to find out what (if any) repercussions there are for C—–a and the host.

 

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Dear —–,

Your first email had been shared with the Regional Director and the General Manager of the restaurant. I have heard back from both. Concerned about your experience and the actions of their staff. Adding this additional information will add to how disappointed they are with their staff and how they performed.

The General Manager asked for your email address, name and phone number in the hope that she could personally apologize and assure you that proper steps are taken to improve the service that they give.

I do not like to provide this information without asking if it is OK with you.

I can assure you that appropriate action will be taken–from training to making sure there is an understanding of what is appropriate behavior and how to present themselves professionally.

Would you mind if I gave the General Manager your email address?

K—– B——
Senior Hospitality Representative
Mon-Fri 8:30-4:30 EST
1-XXX-XXXX

———————-

While I appreciate that they want to apologize and discuss the matter, I feel that the matter is closed. Thanks for your efforts but I’d prefer that you didn’t give out my email.

John Cleese got better service in the Dead Parrot sketch.

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Monday Night Was Magical 2- Ruby Tuesday

23 Dec

December 23, 2009

So after we left the comic store we still had an hour and half before the game so we decided to go get something to eat. Diagonally across the street was Ruby Tuesday. (BTW- although I think the Rolling Stones are very overrated, that’s a good song. You don’t think the Stones are overrated? Feel free to visit the Mr. Blog Home Office in Damascus to file a complaint.) Anyway, as far as I knew, Ruby Tuesday was another Bennigan’s/Applebee’s/TGI Fridays/Doctor Throat-Tickler’s Foodery or some sort of generic place with WACKY STREETSIGNS WHOOO-HOOOO on the wall and out of state college football on the TV’s.

“They had a lot of complaints awhile ago. I think they redid them all,” my brother remarked.

Complaints? In the name of not doing too much original writing (that’s just work) I went online to www.complaintsboard.com and helpfully (and quickly too) copied and pasted some of the complaints into this blog.

When we went up to the salad bar all of the plates were dirty. We are not going to make a big deal we said. Then our food comes out. My sister’s boyfriend cuts open his chicken sandwich and it was pure pink. The restaurant didn’t compensate us at all for the terrible service and uncooked food. We will never eat at Ruby Tuesday’s again.

Did they compensate them for the hospital bill is what I want to know.

One major complaint and a bill for my lost time is in order. We ordered meal at 8:15 pm Sunday night. There were two adults and one child (3 yr old) in my party. Child’s meal delivered in 10 minutes. No silverware. Had to ask for silverware. Next we discovered that we needed a straw for child’s beverage, and ketchup. It took no less than 3 other servers (other than our waitress) before we finally had the child eating. Here’s the real issue the two adult meals never arrived. We went to complain and were informed by Manager (also cook (?)) at 8:55 PM that our meals were given to other customers. Told that meal would be put on now and we could wait another 20 minutes (ordered New Orleans Seafood and Burgers). We told manager/cook we couldn’t wait. Manager offered to comp meal, offered us cheesecake, offered us a gift certificate, even offered a complaint number. We agreed to accept a gift card – we had waited an hour for our dinner and were still hungry. Manager left to retrieve complaint telephone number and gift certificate. We wait a few more minutes -about 5 minutes- and our waitress shows up with our bill to pay. We walk out. Ruby Tuesday Inc. has lost my business.

Ruby Tuesday Inc? Is that how the NASDAQ lists them? Are these diners selling their stock?

My wife and I visited this store two weeks in a row and ordered a steak and was told they were out of this steak, we would have to order something else.

This is a STEAK PLACE. They RAN OUT OF STEAK in a STEAK PLACE? That’s like Burger King running out of processed meat-type byproduct.

I left out the entry about the worms. Don’t say Mr. Blog doesn’t love his readers.

However, to be fair, I found this on Wikipedia, the lazy blogger’s best friend:

In 2007, the Company began re-branding itself, moving out of the “bar-and-grill” segment of the industry, with changes including higher-quality menu items and handcrafted beverages.

As a part of re-branding, the company began remodeling its restaurants as a part of “a three-year plan to reposition, reinvent and reinvigorate the Ruby Tuesday brand”.Ruby Tuesday CEO and Chairman Sandy Beall explains the re-branding in his letter to shareholders, found in the company’s FY2007 Annual Report:

Elevating Ruby Tuesday above the crowd to a memorable, high-quality dining experience is critical to our growth and success. … We began by bringing our guests fresh, exciting new menu choices, then raised our standards of service, and are now creating an innovative new look and style for each and every restaurant. This revitalization will appeal to our loyal core guests while attracting a new generation of consumers.

HA ha ha, corporate bullshit. See how much space I took up without writing a thing? That’s blogging the lazy way.

OK, now that I was fair, a rare thing, let me now proceed to complain.

We walked into the place and went to the hostess counter. She asked us if we’d like to eat downstairs or upstairs. We looked around. Downstairs was dark brown. Very dark brown. Dark brown seats around black tables, dark brown walls with black accents. Dark brown menus. There were only eight tables and a bar, around which was a group of hipster types with spiked hair and interchangeable clothes.

“We’ll go upstairs.”
“Ohh, nice choice. There’s a salad bar upstairs.”
I wanted to punch her but I was curious about what else she didn’t tell us.
“You can take the stairs or the elevator,” she informed us.
I had enough of stairs at the comic store (see part 1). “We’ll take the elevator.”
“Ohh, nice choice.”
I wanted to punch her again.

Not wanting to dare ask, we turned to find the elevator ourselves. There were three doors nearby, all of which looked nothing at all like elevator doors. They were lined up and partly hidden by potted plants. I assumed that I was looking in the wrong place because there were no buttons on the wall. On my right was a glass wall looking to the street. Behind me was another wall looking out on the street (we were on a corner) and to my left was the hostess, still smiling at me as if her face was botoxed that way. Just before I could ask, one of the can’t-be-the-elevator doors opened with a clank and a groan and the middle door opened to reveal three people crammed into an elevator the size of a typical NYC janitor’s closet.

My brother said “I’m taking the stairs” and went up. I watched the three folks fight their way out and I got on. I never did see the outside buttons but the inside buttons were labeled, helpfully, “basement,” “floor,” and “roof.” I took a leap of faith and pressed “floor.” (“Ohh, nice choice,” I could hear in my head.)

Believe it or not, it was the right choice. And more unbelievably, I beat my brother upstairs as the staircase had more twists and turns than your average small intestine and every landing had people lounging on chairs and simply blocking the way.

We now walked up to the second floor hostess’s podium and she informed us that we’d be seated in a minute (*giggle*) because her server (*giggle*) was seating another customer (*giggle giggle*). Why was she giggling? I DON’T KNOW.

While I waited I looked around. Upstairs was as boring to look at as downstairs was. Dark brown, more dark brown, and black. Nothing on the walls. There was a full length window that should have looked out on a great mid-town vista but instead offered a full view of a dark office building.

The server wandered back and we were brought to our table, which I must admit looked very nice in a very dark brown kind of way. We were given our menus and told that our server (so this server was actually just a seater) is on his way.

I’d like now to point out that every single employee was dressed in total black, not a name tag, not a badge, not a single piece of flair breaking it up. I’m a New Yorker, though, so I’m used to that sort of thing. In fact, I’ve had friends who wore nothing but black and would curl up and fade into a wisp of smoke if they ever wore yellow.

We perused the menus for as long as long as three milliseconds until our server showed up.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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