Biridie and I went to a restaurant yesterday and it was quite an experience. I warned the owner that I was going to write a scathing review, so here it is.
First, I get there and there’s only one table and one chair. Already a little dicey, but hey, maybe the food was worth it. So we have to take turns sitting at this lonely table which was right next to the kitchen. Whatever.
Then it turns out that the chef and the waiter were the same person. What kind of place…? Fine whatever, I was starving at this point anyway.
He asks me what I want. He’s awfully cute, so I smile and say, “I would like the penne with the roasted red peppers and truffle oil. Oh, and the bruschetta to start.”
Do you know what he did? He leans over my menu, points at it, and tells me, “That says hamburger. One hamburger with fries coming up.”
WHAT???? Then, the waitress arrives. I guess she only works when she wants to. She washed her hands for like ten minutes, and then came out and slammed down my coffee cup and gave me my water in a flower pot. I shrugged—at least the flower pot was clean. The coffee was excellent, I must say, so I figured that at least the hamburger that had been forced upon me would be pretty good.
Well, it was a bit bland. And the fries were cold. I asked for salt, and the chef/waiter told me I didn’t need any salt. But then he brings me pepper and insisted on putting the pepper on for me. He puts it one everything. Then the waitress comes out and takes my plate before I’m done and washes it. At least she refilled my coffee.
At this point, I’m ready to tell the chef/waiter exactly what I think of him and his establishment. As soon as I open my mouth, he tells me, “That will be $57.00.”
I almost passed out.
“I’m not paying for that. You wouldn’t let me order what I wanted, I didn’t get to finish my food, and—“
“It’s time for you to go.” He ushers me out of the chair and then Birdie sits down before I can warn her about the place.
“What’ll it be, ma’am?” He doesn’t even have anything to write down her order, so I figure that’s why he makes everyone get a hamburger.
“Pancakes with a side of bacon.”
“Coming right up.” Wait a gosh-dern minute here! What the—oh I can’t even.
But just when I thought she was getting preferential treatment, he comes out with the pancake still on the skillet and the slams the skillet on the table. I am not kidding.
“Where’s my bacon?”
“It’s in there.”
“I ordered pancakes with a side of bacon. Not bacon pancakes.”
“Just eat it.”
“With what? You didn’t give me any utensils.”
Audible sigh. “Then use your hands.” And he walks off.
“So I’m supposed to suffer second-degree burns so I can pick up this sizzling hot bacon?” But then the waitress come to the rescue and brings Birdie a spatula. Then she disappears again.
Birdie is beside herself. “I can’t believe this place!”
Our chef/waiter/crook comes back out and says “Next time, get a hamburger. That’ll be $82.00.”
“You’d better not read Yelp! My review is going to burn your eyes out it’s gonna be so bad! No one will ever come here again! I’m shutting you down!” We threatened and picked up our bags.
“See you next time!” He waves at us cheerily. He didn’t care what we said. He knew we’d be back. We usually go three to four times a week. You’d think they would treat their only customers better. But they won’t. Because they know we have no choice.
It was time to go, anyway. Cause, you know, this was Kid Sensation’s restaurant, and my niece BeanBean (Birdie’s baby girl) was the waitress and it was her naptime.
Their customer service skills are terrible, though.