Another Saturday night was in full swing.  Even though it was the coldest night since Thanksgiving and one of only two shopping  Saturdays left until Christmas (no, we don’t count Christmas Eve as a shopping day – sheesh!)  the stores were full, the parking lots were full, and . . .  yes, the restaurants were full.  We will wait for almost anything worth that wait – good music, good hockey, good movies, good plays – but food, nope, we just aren’t going to wait for that.  There are too many restaurants with the same offerings to wait 45 minutes at one restaurant when a similar entrée is beckoning you from across the street.  And thus we were led astray by our rumbling tummies and fell into the abyss that was once a stalwart of family dining in our part of the world.

It’s our go-to restaurant when everything else is packed, when we can’t agree on where to go, or when we want that “you’ll never get a bad meal there” and we don’t want “there” to be home.  What it turned out to be was the exception to the rule.  First we got led to a sticky table with a crumb festooned banquette right off the open doorway to the kitchen.  The waitress was quick enough to come for a drinks order but that was the last time we saw her that evening.  No, that’s not true.  We did see her again 20 minutes later when she brought out the drinks.  That was however the last time she brought a correct order to us. It wasn’t a hard order – She of We ordered the meatloaf and He of We was having a pot roast sandwich with fries and gravy over everything.  Fattening, yes.  Difficult, no.  After making the 45 minute wait at the restaurant across the street seem speedy she came out with the correct but quite cold orders.  When she returned for the customary “how is everything?” we told her of our cold food, which by now could have chilled fresh brewed iced tea.  She stormed off in a huff, our former plates balanced precariously on her forearm, declaring “I’m never working a Saturday again!”  After only a moment away she returned again to ask if we wanted our meals re-prepared and simply heated.

To make a long story short, after three more trips to the kitchen, two additional exclamations of “I’m never working on Saturday again!” two visits by the restaurant manager, and an impromptu dance routine just inside the kitchen doorway,  we left with “We’re never going there on a Saturday again.”

But wait, should we strike an otherwise enjoyable rest stop from our list of acceptable establishments because they no longer hire professional waitresses?  Nobody hires professional waiters or waitresses any more.  There seems to be some backlash against professionals in the service industries.  We don’t understand why.  It takes a particular skill to handle a handful of restaurant tables each with a handful of diners even on a not particularly busy night.  The fault isn’t that of the misguided woman who thinks waitressing is a piece of cake.  It’s not even the fault of the manager who hires people who show contempt for their busiest night.  It’s the fault of the people who patronize these restaurants and stores but don’t complain when served up shoddy service.  It’s the fault of those who won’t return on a Saturday night but not tell anyone why.

We think something has to be done.  The only way we are going to get skilled and practiced service is to demand it.  Waiters and waitresses have to understand that if they do a mediocre job they get a mediocre tip.  When asking how everything was at the end of the meal they should expect, and want a critique of their service.  If the service is so bad that the manager is waiving the check, the waitress’s first thought should not be “there goes my tip.”  Managers have to know that the answer to every service complaint is not free dessert.  If a problem means meals will be delayed bring out some appetizers while the delay is happening.  Owners have to know that competent training and honest evaluations go a long way in making an establishment a continued stalwart in the field.   

When confronted with poor service we often ask ourselves what workers at these places expect.  It’s work.  But it’s work that’s been done for years by competent, yet still pleasant professionals.  We say bring them back.  And put them in charge.  And if it means we have to pay a little bit more for the service it will be worth it.

Even just for the meatloaf and a pot roast sandwich with fries and gravy over everything.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?