Tonight Greg and I went to Tucker’s Place, which is our sort-of-go-to place for steaks if we’re not grilling our own.
And for the 2nd and 3rd time in our lives (which is 2 times too many), the hostess just SKIPPED our name in the wait list. The first time was in Springfield, IL, at D’Arcy’s Pint (which, by the way, has good horseshoe sandwiches. Look them up).
First of all, understand that I will not wait for food. I hate waiting for food. With all the places to go to eat in St. Louis, I am morally opposed to waiting for food. That is, for longer than, say, 15 minutes.
But Tucker’s has a bar, and we had made a decision, and we sat in the bar waiting for our name to be called for a good 45 minutes, when we finally thought, ‘Hmm, there’s something fishy here….lots of folks are being called, but we’re not, and we’d better check this out.”
Sure enough, they skipped us. Again. And so we approached the hostess, she put us at the top of the list, then in the span of 2 minutes, forgot us AGAIN, called someone ELSE, and then finally called us.
“Well,” I said, within earshot of the hostess, “I guess I can see how we got skipped. Twice.”
Then our little dude led us to the station and said, “Are you not able to hear the names in the bar?”
“No, we heard them just fine,” I responded, “It’s just that our name was NEVER CALLED.”
I wasn’t feeling that friendly.
After that, we suffered from the following:
1. A server who couldn’t open our bottle of wine (Greg did it for her);
2. A server who didn’t bring us more napkins until I asked her twice;
3. My salad was swimming in dressing after I asked for it on the side; and
4. Our steaks were overdone.
This is why we don’t often go out. We can guarantee the quality of our service when we do it ourselves. It’s not that we’re snotty. I’ve worked in food service, I know that mistakes happen. In fact, we’re actually pretty easygoing — but COME ON, how do you screw up this much?