Your ambiance offers the allure of a Parisian Bistro, combining new and old, sparkle and tarnish and a staff of elevated standards. The artistically plated food, presented on oversized white china is delivered to the table by waiters with white cotton shirts and blouses – starched just enough to signify a slight discipline, but not enough to alleviate the possibility of adventure. Each employee has the look of exotica and the fantasy of spending time alone with them dances through the minds of every champagne sipping guest. The romance in the room is thick. The menu completely French and the wait for a reservation have been known to take months.
As the air of romance heightens, the couples eyes meet as they slowly raise their glasses to toast the evening. After all, the $150.00 a plate dinner is going to be memorable. The Dom filled glasses are raised rims kiss and suddenly as each glass moves ever so slowly towards the lips of your customers you see that dreaded move- the glass stops short, fingers approach and the index and thumb dive into the bubbly to retrieve what you perceive to be a HAIR.
Nothing ruins a meal – whether it is a dinner of delight at a Kellerized eatery or a burger and fries in a diner faster than a hair. And try as we might the meander and mingle in food and drink all the time.
Why don’t we demand that hairy arm chefs shave them instead of having them hover above a bowl of meatloaf? Why don’t we ban short sleeve chef shirts so customers cannot see the forest of hair most men in kitchens propagate on their forearms? And why do we not fine anyone, yes anyone on the staff who constantly touches, twirls, pulls, braids or even thinks about hair?
Last Saturday evening I stopped in one of
As I watched the bus staff begin to clean the restaurant and restock the bar, one very proficient employee exited the kitchen with a stack of glasses that Gustave Eiffel would have admired. I didn’t find it as heartwarming as the stack spired beyond the busser’s head, having to be balanced on her flowing mane.
Essentially, the glasses were sterilized in the dishwasher and then rubbed through the hair of a very conscientious employee, diligently trying to do her job, but unaware of the health implications. The employee should be rewarded for doing a great job, however, she needs further training on procedures.
Yet, while this occurred, nobody on the staff mentioned it, or probably even noticed it.
Training is a constant exercise in sparkle, shine and achieving perfection. It is momentary. It isn’t fleeting. Unlike children or dogs who you can train through repetitive commands and tasks, waiters need to be constantly and continually reminded of the procedures and processes it takes to efficiently operate a restaurant that has the allure of perceived perfection.
Let’s face it, the business is built on smoke and mirrors and it is the responsibility of every owner and manager and supervisor to instinctively watch and see and notice missteps and correct them immediately.
This is not a case of sour grapes, just a case in point that could have ruined an evening.
“Excuse me bartender, have you got a straw?”