Fuck Longhorn Steakhouse
So the missus and I take the family out for diner tonight. We were going to go to Outback, but they're so crowded, people are waiting outside to get a seat. Not wanting to wait all night to eat, we head down the road to Longhorn. I've never been to Longhorn before, but it looks pretty nice. We walk in, and despite the fact that there are at least 10 open tables that I can see, we're put on the wait list and issued one of those silly blinking pager things. Whatever, I think, and let it slide.
We're sitting there waiting for about 20 mintues,when this group of 5 abercrombie rejects walks in the front doors, open bottles of beer in hand, and starts chatting with the hostess. She giggles and tells them, "you're so crazy." Then she takes them back and sits them down at a table.
I'm thinking, maybe they had a reservation. So I go up and ask the hostess how long our wait's going to be. "About 10 more minutes, sir," she says. "Wait. When we got here, 20 minutes ago, you told us it would be a 10 to 15-minute wait. Those guys that just got a seat, did they have a reservation?" She looks like a deer in headlights, mouth agape. Before she can come up with a bullshit excuse, I tell her to go get her manager.
A couple minutes later, and a well-dressed, if slightly heavyset, gentleman extends his hand towards me, the hostess standing meekly behind him. "I'm the manager, how can I help you," he asks. I expalin to him what just happened, "my family and I have been waiting more than 20 minutes for a seat. I don't have a problem with that. What I have a problem with is your hostess seating her friends who just walked in off the street ahead of everyone else sitting here."
"I'm sure they had a reservation," he says.
"Check the reservation book. It's right there on the counter. I know they're not in it."
Without looking at the reservation book, he huffs dejectedly and says, "well, let me make this up to you, sir."
"You can't make it up. We're done. Sorry I'm not a close, personal friend of the wait staff," I say.
"Well, have you ever eaten here at Longhorn before," he asks. He seems genuine in his attempt to win me over and make things up. But I'm not having it.
"Nope," I say, "and I'm not going to, either." I pat him on the shoulder and say, "have a good night. Might want to have a little chat with your hostess," and I gather up the brood and we leave.
I feel kinda bad that I didn't give the manager a chance. He seemed like a decent guy, but his hostess pissed me off so bad I wanted to make an impression. Without customers, business will die. It's the fundamental rule of any business. And when you blatantly play favorites with customers, you're going to lose sales.
So, if you're ever in Clarksville, TN, don't bother with the Longhorn Steakhouse. Unless you want to lose your seat to beer-swilling frat-rats.
So the missus and I take the family out for diner tonight. We were going to go to Outback, but they're so crowded, people are waiting outside to get a seat. Not wanting to wait all night to eat, we head down the road to Longhorn. I've never been to Longhorn before, but it looks pretty nice. We walk in, and despite the fact that there are at least 10 open tables that I can see, we're put on the wait list and issued one of those silly blinking pager things. Whatever, I think, and let it slide.
We're sitting there waiting for about 20 mintues,when this group of 5 abercrombie rejects walks in the front doors, open bottles of beer in hand, and starts chatting with the hostess. She giggles and tells them, "you're so crazy." Then she takes them back and sits them down at a table.
I'm thinking, maybe they had a reservation. So I go up and ask the hostess how long our wait's going to be. "About 10 more minutes, sir," she says. "Wait. When we got here, 20 minutes ago, you told us it would be a 10 to 15-minute wait. Those guys that just got a seat, did they have a reservation?" She looks like a deer in headlights, mouth agape. Before she can come up with a bullshit excuse, I tell her to go get her manager.
A couple minutes later, and a well-dressed, if slightly heavyset, gentleman extends his hand towards me, the hostess standing meekly behind him. "I'm the manager, how can I help you," he asks. I expalin to him what just happened, "my family and I have been waiting more than 20 minutes for a seat. I don't have a problem with that. What I have a problem with is your hostess seating her friends who just walked in off the street ahead of everyone else sitting here."
"I'm sure they had a reservation," he says.
"Check the reservation book. It's right there on the counter. I know they're not in it."
Without looking at the reservation book, he huffs dejectedly and says, "well, let me make this up to you, sir."
"You can't make it up. We're done. Sorry I'm not a close, personal friend of the wait staff," I say.
"Well, have you ever eaten here at Longhorn before," he asks. He seems genuine in his attempt to win me over and make things up. But I'm not having it.
"Nope," I say, "and I'm not going to, either." I pat him on the shoulder and say, "have a good night. Might want to have a little chat with your hostess," and I gather up the brood and we leave.
I feel kinda bad that I didn't give the manager a chance. He seemed like a decent guy, but his hostess pissed me off so bad I wanted to make an impression. Without customers, business will die. It's the fundamental rule of any business. And when you blatantly play favorites with customers, you're going to lose sales.
So, if you're ever in Clarksville, TN, don't bother with the Longhorn Steakhouse. Unless you want to lose your seat to beer-swilling frat-rats.
phoenixgirl:
damn........i would have done the same thing, hope you guys did end up somewhere good to eat after that!!