Spin the Bottle Serge
The man that probably doesn't know we named a book after him
Part 1 in a 4-part Series About Belgian Hospitality
About the Series
It’s frustrating, and maybe a bit pathetic, seeing restaurants in North America gush all over their social media and marketing campaigns about how much they care about you, about their staff, and about how well you will be treated every time you come back.
The problem is that every time you come back, no one working there has any idea of who you are because everyone working there is new since you last were there, even if that was only a week or two ago.
The marketing says they missed you and that they look forward to seeing you again, but that’s a lie. I wrote about that lie in this post. Then, because we’re suckers for punishment, I wrote this post confirming that nothing has changed.
Turnover is rampant and growing in North American hospitality and that’s why experiences are less than authentic, service is less than personal, and the experience is less than memorable.
Many places in Brussels, and France too for that matter, seem to have the same menus, cooks, waiters and wallpaper that they had the day they opened. Even if many of them opened in 1740-something. A few of the original guests seem to be hanging around too, their grey hair a slightly different shade of blue, but still ordering Pastis as they did when they first visited 112 years ago.
Would restaurants in North America be more successful if they had long-serving, professional staff that not only knew their regulars but knew their tastes as well? Who knows, maybe North American customers aren’t very good at being customers either.
I wrote about one of our favourite Belgian hospitality personalities here, but now it’s time to showcase a few more.
The stories in this four-week series showcase how the people in each story played a big role in the success of the restaurants they worked in.
There’s a common lesson to be learned from each story. It’s never the brand, it’s never the marketing, it’s never the loyalty programme points. It’s the people that create the experience that drives loyalty. Over time, loyalty turns into familiarity and friendship.
In hospitality, when your business becomes friends taking care of friends that appreciate the services they receive, success is inevitable.
Meeting Serge
Serge was one of the first waiters we met when we moved to Brussels was Serge.
When we arrived in town, our landlord was waiting for a part for our kitchen stove. That meant we had to eat out every night. Trust me, when you cook the way I do, that’s a good thing, and when you live in Brussels that’s an even better thing.
Truth be told, it took a few weeks before we discovered Serge because we were chicken. Tourists and newly arrived people that are less than daring eat at the touristy places downtown and got ripped off by waiters suggesting we simply order the house wine only to discover that by house wine they mean that its cost is similar to a house price… If we didn’t venture into town, we ate at Pizza Hut which was strategically located in the parking lot of our local Carrefour. (I can’t remember why we went to Carrefour so often in the days before we could cook at home…)
One day we felt local enough to try a local brasserie. It was a couple of blocks from home and a block from Carrefour if that tells you anything. It probably doesn’t, because I haven’t mentioned where we lived and there are a few thousand Carrefours in Brussels. It doesn’t matter. It turned out that we made a great choice and soon enough we were regulars at Le Deauville.
That’s where Serge worked.
The owner never really warmed up to us because we didn’t speak French. Serge liked us because we were his opportunity to practice English without having to work in a tourist trap. He saved us money too when he taught us not to tip too much.
Spin the Bottle Serge
One evening, we were just there for drinks. We ordered a beer and Serge brought it over on a silver tray as usual. Two frosty bottles, two glasses adorned with the same logo as the bottle, and two coasters. Serge perfectly poured the beer, and, when he put the bottle on the table he gave it an elegant little twist to ensure the label was pointing at us.
Being thirsty and more or less Scandinavian, we ordered a second beer. Serge arrived with the silver tray balanced perfectly chest high on his left hand. The tray contained two bottles and two clean glasses.
“Save the dishwasher some trouble.”, I said. “We can use the same glasses.”
Serge, rather reluctantly, obliged.
We must have been having a good night because we ordered a third beer. Serge arrived with the silver tray, two unopened frosty bottles and two clean glasses.
“Save the dishwashing.”, I repeated, but Serge was having none of it.
“This time we do it my way.”
We were drinking Duvel, which is 8.5% abv, so I don’t remember any more of the evening. I know we walked home but can’t tell you if that was after that third beer or if we stayed for a fourth. I trust it was a weekend. I would never drink more than one Duvel if I had to work the next day.
A year or so after we first met him, Serge disappeared from the restaurant. His friend, a bartender, said Serge was fed up and had moved on. Shortly thereafter we stopped going there, too. That was, in part, to avoid the complaints from the owner who couldn’t believe our French wasn’t getting any better with the passing of time. It was also because we missed Serge. The service wasn’t the same without him. We also noticed fewer familiar faces among the other patrons. We weren’t the only ones that missed him.
Serge Reunited
The part for our stove arrived and we started cooking mediocre meals at home while venturing out and trying different places around town when we felt the need for a culinary experience beyond my capabilities. That happened more often than I wish I had to admit. We ate out a lot and tried many different restaurants and brasseries. In Brussels, you’re truly spoiled for choice.
Suddenly one evening there he was. We walked into a brasserie and Serge, our long-lost waiter greeted us like we were his long-lost friends.
“Where have you been?”, we asked.
“Right here, waiting for you!”
We’d been to the brasserie a few times previously before Serge arrived. It was always busy, but never really full of guests.
A few weeks after we met Serge there, the place was packed every night. One evening, we walked in and saw only two vacant tables. Both were good ones along the wall near the windows. Both also had “RESERVED” signs on them.
As we turned to leave, cursing the fact that we hadn’t booked in advance, Serge called after us: “Where are you going?”, he yelled across the noisy room.
I walked over to him and said, “We should have booked, we can see your only available tables are reserved.”
“Yes!”, he said, “Reserved for you!”
He later explained that most well-run places know they can fill up every evening. They also know that there will also always be a few regulars that wander in. Therefore, they put reserved signs on some of the best tables every night.
“If it’s just the two of you, we’ll always have a table for you. If you’re more than two, it’s good for us if you make a reservation.”
Stay safe, Always Care
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