Strictly Go Away Pizza

I'm always amazed when some business is willing to sacrifice a long-term relationship with a customer for some small, short-term perceived benefit. Like... saving a few measly bucks.

Case in point: I once ordered a pizza from Strictly To Go Pizza on North Main in Walnut Creek. This is one of those take-and-bake places. I ordered by telephone, then drove over and paid for my pizza. When I got home, I realized they had given me the wrong pie. I typically order something really stinky and good, like garlic and anchovies, or red onion and sausage. This was a "Hawaiian Style" pizza with ham and pineapples. I like those fine, but it's not what I ordered. No problem. Everybody makes mistakes.

So I drove back to Strictly To Go and explained the error. Here's where the fun starts. The woman behind the counter actually laughed and said, "We're not taking that back. You paid for it."

I admit, I was not prepared for this. How could they have any reaction other than, "Gee, I'm sorry we gave you the wrong pie. Let me whip up the pizza you ordered. It'll take 5 minutes."?

After a moment of stunned silence, I came back with, "Wait. You gave me the wrong pizza. I didn't order this."

Another self-satisfied snort. "How do I know?"

Imagine a cartoon thermometer appearing in thin air next to my head, with the red indicator slowly rising. "How do you know what? Do you think I'm lying?"

"I don't know. But we're not taking that pizza back. You paid for it."

"Are you kidding? You gave me the wrong pizza. You should replace it."

"No way. That's your pizza."

"Are you the manager?"

"Yep."

"Awesome. So you're not going to make this right. Do you realize that I'll never come back here, and none of my friends will ever come back here?"

"Heh, I don't care."

"Wow, OK."

And I turned and left, leaving the large, half-baked Hawaiian sitting on the counter.

Of course I wrote a letter of complaint and mailed to the business address. I never got any reply. And of course, I never went back there, and neither have any of my friends. That was about nine years ago. How much pizza is that?

Consider how much it costs that business to find a new customer. And then think about how little real money was saved by refusing to correct their mistake. I'd say about $3, maybe less.

Doesn't anybody do math anymore?

An Excellent Catalog of Don't's

Picture me leaning into my computer screen, nodding and murmuring "Yeah, baby!" about 100 times. Creepy, I know. But that's about how it went as I read Bruce Buschel's excellent 2-part list:

100 Things Restaurant Staffers Should Never Do
(Links: Part 1 | Part 2 )

Here are three items, chosen at random (sort of):

• Do not lead the witness with, “Bottled water or just tap?” Both are fine. Remain neutral.
• Do not announce your name. No jokes, no flirting, no cuteness.
• Do not interrupt a conversation. For any reason. Especially not to recite specials. Wait for the right moment.

Awesome. Well done Bruce.

Rules #1 and #2 for Waiters

I started this blog originally as a place to vent my spleen about various unsatisfactory experiences in restaurants. I am, how you say, a jerk, and I'm easily annoyed by incompetent wait staff.

Actually, I'm usually more annoyed at the restaurant that failed to train their staff properly. But it ends up being the same thing: a disappointing dining experience for me. That is partly why I don't eat in restaurants too often, except for quick and cheap lunches during the workday. (The real reason -- that I'm cheap -- is too embarrassing to mention here.)

Why do I feel qualified to express my opinion? Who am I kidding? I'm not qualified. But I did work in some excellent restaurants in my youth in Mendocino, and learned all aspects of the restaurant business, both front and back, from some of the best. I know good service when I encounter it, and it's a delight.

Anyway, there are two Most Important Rules about waiting tables that I want to emphasize, even though I covered it in an earlier blog post:

Rule #1: Make eye contact.

Dear Waiter... How do you know when to approach a table in your station, and when to leave them alone? If your boss told you that you must always visit the table shortly after serving and ask if everything is OK, then your boss is an idiot. It's really much easier than that...

Here's what you do: You merely walk past your tables and glance in their direction. If a customer doesn't look at you, then they don't want to talk to you. You never need to ask, "Is everything OK?" or, God forbid, "Are you still working on that?"

Really really, you do not need to ask if I'm enjoying my food while I'm still chewing it. Not only have you interrupted the meaningful (or trite) conversation at our table, but you've basically forced me to be rude by either ignoring you or talking with my mouth full of your wonderful food. Bad waiter!

Seriously, this little bit of waiter-etiquette is fading into memory. Everybody is apparently now being trained in the "The more you ask if everything's OK, the bigger your tip will be" school of waiterly annoyance. The number of times I've been able to enjoy a good meal in a restaurant without being harassed by an overly chatty waiter is... well, it's a depressingly small number.

Rule #2: Be personal but not intimate.

We used to make fun of the eccentric kook waiter who would stand casually at our table (or, God forbid, sit down in our booth!) and tell us his name. ("Hi, I'm Seashell and I'll be your server today.")

Dammit-all if the eccentric kook hasn't become the norm! Somewhere along the line, this "introduce yourself and make small talk with your customers" philosophy has become standard operating procedure for wait staff.

I'm very sorry, and I'm sure you're a wonderful person, but no, I don't care what your name is. And I am not here to make friends, at least not with you. I was hoping you'd take my order and then disappear, like morning fog lifting off the fairway grass, beautifully and without a sound.

To be fair, some people love it when a waiter disgorges personal information and hovers about like long-lost pals at a high school reunion. I'm not one of them.

One of the best waiters I ever had the pleasure of working with -- Robert, at the Cafe Beaujolais in Mendocino -- this goes back 25 years -- taught me this basic rule... The best waiters are like polite and benevolent spirits. You hardly notice them at all, but you always have just what you need, when you need it.

The point is... the customers in a restaurant come in to enjoy each other's conversation, not yours. Let them be.

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

Some times you leave your waiter a tip. Sometimes, you leave feedback in other forms. Who is to say what's more valuable? Not me...

Check out this great photo-blog post, This is why your server is cranky, on the blog: PassiveAgressiveNotes.com.

How to pay $5.90 to park at BART (and have fun doing it)

So, I needed to get to work in Berkeley one morning, but also needed to take BART into the City in the afternoon.

My friend Paul was also driving to Berkeley, so I thought I'd park at the Lafayette BART and then hitch a ride with him. Then I could retrieve my car on the way home in the evening, via BART.

Good plan, right?

First of all, I discovered that you have to pay $1 to park at Lafayette BART. No problem. Then I found that the parking passes are sold INSIDE the station. Cool. So I bought a $5 ticket. But then I thought, "I can't use my ticket just to exit again. That would be a waste of money!" So I walked through the non-ticket "disabled person" gate... and was immediately stopped by BART security.

"Do you have a ticket?"

Me, with absolute brain shutdown, just staring back at her.

Pause...

"Are you riding BART today?"

"Yes, I am."

"Do - you - have - a - tick...et?"

"Yes," I say, producing said ticket from shirt pocket. I continue to stare at her, putting on my very best, "I don't know what to do and I'm trying not to cry. Please help me" face.

She explains how to use the ticket gate to me, which I proceed to do. I then buy my $1 parking pass.

Now I am standing inside the Lafayette BART station like Borat on his arrival in America... All I lacked was the chicken under my arm. Meanwhile, Paul is outside, waiting for me in his sweet Pontiac rental car... Time stands still.

One minute goes by. Two minutes... I am weighing my options...

1. Get on BART and ride to Bekeley. (F*ck Paul).
2. Bust out through the same "disabled person" gate and jump into the rolling getaway car while BART security runs after us.
3. Exit through the ticketed gate, like a normal person (with the world's shortest commute).
   

I chose option 3.

Apparently, such short commutes are anathema to BART, because they charged me $4.90 for the trip. Add that to the $1 to park....

And THAT, folks, is how you pay $5.90 to park at BART (and have fun doing it).