Host of Opportunities: An open letter to a restaurant owner
DEAR RESTAURANT OWNER: All we wanted was someone to welcome us. It was an early dinner at your chic new neighborhood bistro. We'd heard good things about the steak. We were psyched by the idea of great food so close to home. Here's our story.
The young woman at the host stand barely looked up from her cuticles when we came through the door. She guided us to a table without a word, swiveled on her high heels, and teetered back where she came from to work on her other hand. No menus. No mention of who our server would be. No offer to take our coats. Nada. We waited. We waited some more. We attempted to make eye contact with the bartender. We looked around the room for servers and spied them huddled at the end of the bar, sipping fountain drinks. I restrained my companion from flagging someone over and decided to see how long it would take for someone to notice us. (Remember: two people, in a pristine, almost empty restaurant.) Five minutes. Ten minutes. Eighteen minutes - an eternity in a restaurant - passed before my companion, thirsty, hungry, and ticked off, marched back to the host stand and asked if there might be someone coming to take our order. The hostess, who'd moved on to her split ends by then, seemed a little surprised that we were still there. She did, at least, break into the clot of waitstaff to get someone to work our table. After a few more minutes, a perfectly energetic server bustled in our direction, gave us menus, brought us drinks, and took our order. But before our newly delivered plates had even stopped vibrating on the table, I had decided never to return. The room was sexy, the food quite fine, and the commute convenient. But why would I go back to a restaurant where I felt so unwelcome?
Now, I know that being a host or hostess can be boring, especially in the quiet hours before the night really gets going. Been there, done that. It can be tedious to be chained to a little stand-up desk, wearing nice clothes and uncomfortable shoes and forcing a smile while waiting for the action to begin. It's also generally not the best-paying job you offer. Maybe at your restaurant the host doesn't get to participate in the tip pool. Maybe your hourly wage isn't as good as at Starbucks. But hey, the job requirements are also minimal. It's a good starter position for someone with no experience. All a host really needs is an attractive appearance, a reasonable wardrobe, and a desire to be in the hospitality business. And that's exactly the point: the host or hostess embodies the hospitality of your restaurant. If he or she hasn't been trained with that as a mantra, you're slipping up and wasting an opportunity to make me a regular. For the customer, the restaurant experience is maybe one-quarter food to three-quarters service. And no matter how good the meal, how stellar the drinks, nothing erases a bad first impression.
So I blame you, the owner (or your manager), a lot more than I blame the poor young hostess. If you haven't taught her to feel part of the welcoming mission, it's your loss.
But I assure you, you're not the only one in town making this mistake, wasting the talent and time of young people who are on the lowest rung of the restaurant business. If you were the only offender, I'd keep it to myself, or maybe leave you a letter as I walked by en route to another restaurant. I feel for you. Hiring and training is time-consuming; maybe the talent pool is tight. But I urge you to eat out, or just wander in and out of the 20 or so most successful restaurants in the city. The ones in your price range, the ones where the owners understand that the host station is the ultimate marketing opportunity, advertising in the flesh. Notice that when you enter, the host smiles, banters for a second or two as he or she takes you to your table, asks if you want to keep your coat, and maybe even hands you a menu. But most of all, watch for the smile - the genuine, authentic smile - that communicates "We're glad you chose us tonight."
No one wants to do a bad job. No one chooses to be inhospitable. A new hire might not know how to be welcoming. Maybe the hosting job seems so straightforward that your managers didn't outline the basic tasks very well. Maybe they spent too much time on the technicalities, like how to pick the table that matches the size of the party or how to balance the workload of the waitstaff. We understand that these things, too, matter to the restaurant. But all the diner really wants is a good meal and a good time, at a fair price. You might not have noticed, but diners are increasingly careful with their discretionary money these days; they're cutting back on indulgences. There are also a lot of options for where to eat. Last week, I read about five new restaurants opening in the city.
So, for all the first-time diners you'll have the opportunity to convert to regulars, please do us this one favor: show us some respect. Respect the importance of first impressions. If a customer like me can't get past the chill at the door, no amount of red-hot food will ever warm me up. @
Louisa Kasdon can be reached at food@stuffatnight.com.
So many varieties of "missing the point" in restaurants, eh? This experience reminds me of the bad old days in Boston when all the mediocre places had enough attitude to choke a horse. Coming from cities with real food cultures like NY and SF my friends and I here for grad school, kept thinking WTF? Thank God it's mostly changed. May this article send tremors through the food scene here. Restaurant owners - are you paying attention? We do not want to go back!
And, now if I may, offer an experience from the other side of the podium? An occasional stint at the podium is not uncommon and helped me through an unexpected turn in my life.
You're trying very hard to smile even though your feet are killing you standing in high heels on a hard floor, hour after hour. They couldn't give you a mat to cushion your back, knees, ankles and feet. It would interfere the decor.
You're watching the tables turn or not.Tracking which reservations might have a wait IF they arrive anywhere near on time and IF the couple lingering over their third coffee remember the sitter they're paying for...
Then the star guests arrive. At least that's who THEY think they are. They don't bother to look at you, or even acknowledge a human being has greeted them warmly. They simply bark - through their smile at the friend down the bar or in the dining room - "WHERE'S [the manager] honey? HE always takes care of US." They fling their expensive coats in your general direction. God help you if it hits the floor, their gesture says.
You get him. See them grease his palm hand for THEIR table. Which of course, you could have escorted them to,you had it ready and open despite the fact they were late, didn't call and others were waiting. You had begun to tell them you could seat them immediately.
But it's much better for them if they are seen with someone important taking them to their table. Later HE might flirt with you while you're checking the progress of the lingering diners, and his wife is in the loo. He might tell you (as if everyone didn't already know) that his girlfriend is the third one down at the bar. This, of course, is meant to impress you. Come again?
On their way out, they will tell you - bark at you - to make sure [Manager] has their table ready for them on next Thursday. (How DO they bark through those smiles, it's a skill!)
Of course they are not smiling at you. You don't exist. You are simply the appendage of the podium. And tip you for their coats? Not once.
Makes my cuticles look mighty interesting...but that was never me. I still smiled. I still welcomed. And my feet still swelled every night.
April 14, 2008 2:19 PM
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