Recently, I walked into a restaurant with two companions. I smiled as I approached the host stand. The nearest person, who happened to be female, smiled back and said firmly, “I’m sorry, we’re fully reserved until 7:30 p.m.” I looked around the more-than-half-empty dining room. It was 5:30 p.m.; we had gone to a matinee and were hungry for an unusually early dinner. Then I smiled back at her and said, “That’s fine because we have a reservation.” She was flustered, and I was annoyed. What ever happened to hello? She was apologetic, and we shook it off and had a perfectly lovely dinner.
It was a very interesting experience, though. When you’re turned away like that, before you’ve even opened your mouth, it’s a bit mystifying. You wonder if there’s dirt on your face or if your clothes are ripped or otherwise subpar. Apparently, someone behind me had held up three fingers to indicate that there were three of us, and she took that as a sign that we were looking for a table. Of course we were, it being a restaurant and all, although we did have the foresight to book in advance. We weren’t going to because we knew that it was an off time that usually isn’t busy, but thankfully the New Yorker in me insisted on making a reservation.
It made me think about service and why she wouldn’t have said, “Good evening,” and started a dialogue before rejecting us at the door. Is the city so big that restaurants can afford to turn people away like that? I understand the delicate balance of seating a dining room and not overloading the kitchen. I also understand that restaurants are in business to make money. It seems to me that if a place is practically empty, you might want to employ a bit of diplomacy in sending people away, even if the room will be full in short order. Just a note, we were there for a good 2.5 hours, and even though it did get quite busy, they never did fill up all those empty tables.
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