Sorry folks, when a chain says they can't wait to see you, they're still lying!
The growing disconnect between corporate marketing and reality
We already told you that when a restaurant chain says they miss you, it’s a lie. If you missed that post, here’s a link to it.
When a restaurant chain tells you they miss you, it's a lie
The pandemic was hard on hospitality businesses. Many places had to close for long periods of time. When they reopened, in some locations they were limited to occupancy restrictions or takeaway only. When businesses couldn’t keep them employed, people in hospitality often chose to leave the industry altogether.
We should have known better…
Guess what?
If a restaurant chain sends you a lovely-worded and visually appealing promotional email about their late-night happy hour and tells you that they “can’t wait to see you”, it’s just another lie.
Building false hope
Although we were still in the month of May, it was a wonderfully warm evening.
As we gazed at the growing, glowing, not quite full yet, moon it seemed too early to go home.
“I’d love a Gin and Tonic”, Kirsten said.
We knew we probably shouldn’t, but we did anyway.
I’m not thinking about the drink. We’d never regret sipping a sumptuous cocktail on a lovely, almost summer evening.
I’m thinking about the fact that we decided to have one at the same place that had lied to us when they told us how much they had missed us during their pandemic closure.
They’d recently sent us another email that told us they couldn’t wait to see us again…
It’s too late to regret it now, but not too late to share the less-than-exceptional experience as a warning to others.
Building even higher expectations
It was just after nine p.m. when we arrived.
I feel sorry for the young host that greeted us as we walked in. He was new. All the staff members were new since our last visit. They usually are.
The host was a competent kid that could become a great hospitality person with the right support, encouragement, and training. It’s unlikely he’ll receive that where he is now, but he certainly has it in him.
He smiled and welcomed us, before asking us if we were popping in for a drink, or if we wanted a food menu too.
“Just a quick drink,” we replied.
There was a supervisor/manager and a hostess in a short, tight-fitting, black dress behind the welcome podium. They were preoccupied with each other, didn’t acknowledge us, and blocked the path of the host that now had a drink menu in his hands.
After a brief, silent delay, the host was able to squeeze past the manager/supervisor and the other hostess.
We were just going to have a drink, so he asked us if we preferred to sit at the bar or a table.
We pointed out a window table that looked vacant and asked if it was.
“Absolutely,” the host said. The table was set for three, but he swiftly and automatically removed the third place-setting as we sat down.
“Your server will be here to take your drink orders right away.”
It was amazing. He proactively removed one setting from the table, pulled Kirsten’s chair out, and set the drink menu up in the middle of the table. It was smooth and simple. No gimmicky showmanship.
Had they changed? Had their staff been trained? Were they suddenly more attentive and professional?
Stop hoping, nothing’s changed
Ten minutes later, none of the servers in the half-empty restaurant, had come to take our order.
“Should I go over to the bar and order?”, Kirsten asked. She really wanted that G&T.
“No, let’s see how long this takes.”, I said. I’m a research and facts guy at heart.
While we waited, we decided that the host must be new, and hadn’t yet been stripped of his hospitality capabilities or programmed to follow the corporate script.
My attempt to conduct quality research failed when Kirsten ran out of patience and flagged a server down as she was floating aimlessly past our table.
We ordered two Gin and Tonics, from her and thought it was our lucky day. Not because she came close enough to flag down. On the drink menu, G&Ts were on special.
It wasn’t our lucky day. G&Ts were on special, but the server didn’t take our order.
“I’ll send your server over.”, she said.
“Just tell her we’d like two G&Ts please”, we said.
A few minutes later, another server approached with two glasses containing a clear drink with a slice of lemon.
The excitement of expectation was short-lived. The glasses contained water.
As she plopped them down on the table, she started a version of that all-too-familiar script…
“What have you two been up to today? Do you want food? Should I get a food menu for you?”
We told her, no thank you, we only had a drink menu because that was what we told the host that welcomed us.
“No worries.”, she said.
We ordered our two G&Ts.
Three minutes later, a third server arrived at our table.
“Hello, shall I get you a food menu?”, she asked.
We informed her that we’d already ordered drinks and that we wouldn’t be ordering food.
“No worries.”, she said.
The drinks arrived and they were great!
A few minutes later, probably prompted by the point of sales system, our server was back to recite the next line in the script.
“Are those drinks alright for you?”
They were.
In fact, when we finished them off a little later, we decided to order another.
Turnover is still high
We couldn’t see our server, so we flagged one down that we’d seen in deep conversation at the bar with the manager/supervisor that had earlier been too busy in deep conversation with another server to notice us. (Side note: we never did see him interact with, or even acknowledge, a guest.)
“Your server left”, were her first words when she came to the table. We thought she was going to give us the bill. I almost asked if she thought it was past our bedtime and that we should leave too.
Instead, I asked if we could have two more G&Ts and we complimented their taste.
“No worries.”, she said. Why does everyone that works here seem to be worried that we have worries, I thought.
When it did come time to pay the bill, we had a nice conversation with the server.
It’s funny, but once you get past the robotic, scripted nothingness they’re programmed to say, a lot of people in hospitality have great personalities and fascinating stories to share. It’s just too bad they’re not given more opportunity to be their authentic selves.
No more chains, enjoy a celebrity instead!
On the way home, we decided that next time we have G&T cravings on an evening walk, we’ll grab a bottle of Aviation Gin and enjoy our own drinks on the deck at home. We’d save money. Their commercials are also a lot more fun than the disappointing disconnect between chain restaurants and their marketing teams!
Please note that this post has not been sponsored or endorsed by Ryan Reynolds or Aviation Gin, but I have a cousin that lives in Portland. I hope supporting this company will help them pay their municipal taxes in her hometown, and we do like companies that stick to honest, factual, no-nonsense advertising…
Stay safe, Always Care
P.S.: I’m not a complainer… next week, I’ll be starting a four-week series on Belgian hospitality. From beer in a brasserie to neighbourhood gems becoming neighbourhood friends, to a family-run Michelin-star restaurant that made you feel right at home. The series will be a reminder of my mantra about the wonderful world of hotels and restaurants: “Hospitality. It’s the People!”
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