As I downed a last swallow of Super Tuscan shortly before midnight on New Year’s Eve and headed into one of the South Fork’s most popular dining rooms, I found myself wondering at the revelry.In this particular dining room, as the noisemakers sounded, the very well-heeled patrons hugged and danced with the staff as much, or even more, in some cases, than with their dinner companions.
The snooty instincts in me, fostered by the pretense of former employers, is aghast at this relationship—from both sides.
Familiarity and friendly service are one thing, but as a server, the customers should not be presumed to be your friends. And as a customer, being friendly and appreciative of familiar treatment should be a natural instinct, but the fences between the two should not be removed.
There—my inner curmudgeon has been sated.
So, now, I’ll acknowledge that this convivial shedding of staid old barriers is quite laudable. The comfort of customer with staff is not uncommon at this particular restaurant, where a good many of the patrons are as regular as the bread timer. The ownership and the many longtime employees foster the caste-confusing familiarity, and their position at a most sought-after reservation helps bring the social strata between server and served even closer together—nearly to symbiosis—particularly with the younger generations of diners.
I’ve worked at two or three restaurants and know of a small handful of others that have incubated similar close relationships between patron and employ, the sort that lead beyond just joyous hellos at seating to Christmas gifts, invitations to social events, and even the occasional job offer (lest we forget that most of those well-off enough to dine out so regularly assume their waiter or waitress would prefer a different profession).
We restaurant employees, some of us anyway, do take pride when a customer becomes so comfortable with the transaction of dinner service that they begin to treat it as though they are just settling in at a friend’s house for a casual meal. For this environment is not made possible easily, as evidenced by its rarity.
It is sort of like growing a temperamental seedling in a generally inhospitable environment under occasional, exceptionally adverse conditions. It is a seed that is planted by the ownership, fertilized by the management and ultimately made possible only by the service staff, from the front podium to the bus station, with a mixture of inherent nature and artfully manipulated skill.
An owner who is impatient, or has a penchant for taking himself too seriously, will spread that demeanor like virus. False and forced graciousness, mimicked from witness of those who present so pleasantly by instinct, does not fool anyone—even if only detected subconsciously. You own a restaurant, you should be truly and honestly happy to see a customer, and not have to put on a show as such.
Your management staff is not just a shepherd for your waiters and runners and bussers. They must be your surrogate, since you cannot be at both the front door and in the waiters’ aisle at the same time. They must be the ones who cultivate the relationships with your customers, who are attentive enough to pick up on individual foibles and fondness, and savvy enough to know how to cater to them graciously.
For servers, runners and bussers—to say nothing of hostesses, for whom we can assume that outward grace is a job requirement—must simply be instinctively friendly. I’ve tried to fake it with customers for whom I honestly held no affinity, and I could feel myself utterly failing with each forced chuckle. Some are better at faking it than others, but it’s better to have someone honestly happy to see each customer. One instance of a snappy waiter, a sarcastic runner or dismissive busperson, and any feeling of friendly welcome that had been laid from door to table will be tainted if not completely soured. This will be another responsibility of your management staff: to hire well and, well, fire well, when necessary.
The thing about a restaurant’s “personality” is that it can actually help overcome less than perfection in other corners of the building. Rarely can it make up for really terrible food, but it can bring a restaurant that is just pretty good on par with one that is outstanding in terms of how eagerly customers are drawn through its doors.
In fact, in each of the establishments I have worked where I have witnessed such close relationships between patrons and staff, the food has been decidedly casual, comfortable and none too fussy.
So, in 2016, restaurant owners and staff, I suggest that your New Year’s resolution be to look in the mirror. Do you actually enjoy seeing customers whom you know only from the name in the reservation book as much as you would enjoy seeing a lifelong friend come through the doors? If not, maybe there’s some soul-searching to do. Your job depends on your ability to make a person, someone who might instinctively feel not just like a welcome patron but like a guest and a friend, also feel free enough to want to see you dance on New Year’s Eve.
I’ll have the salmon.
27east on Jan 4, 2016