Just returned from a four-night stay at Wilderness Lodge. On our second night we dined at Citricos, a favorite of our family since 2002. We have no complaints about our excellent meal or our friendly and solicitous server Luis. However, I do about the bartender, a thirteen-year veteran.
Upon arrival we received our buzzer and headed for the bar. We ordered a Macallan 18 neat, a glass of chardonnay, and a Manhattan. After pouring the wine and mixing my cocktail, the bartender said, loudly, "Oh, wow, I must not have my glasses because I can't find the bottle."
"You're holding it," my father said.
A weird exchange. The bottle was visible to anyone within 12 feet of the counter and we're not talking about Dewar's or something. Then the coup de grace: the bartender shouted the total and placed the bill on the table. For those unacquainted with bar etiquette, this is most unusual. It's OK to place the most recent receipt in or under a glass but not to (a) announce the total to everyone within earshot as if it were college night at Hooters (b) close the tab when it was obvious we were waiting for a table and the rest of our party (the bartender had asked when we arrived) and no one else seated at the bar had a receipt in front of them. The bar had three other patrons seated and two other parties at tables ordering food: busy but not overwhelmingly so. The only conclusion I could make was that this man did not want our patronage, despite the expensive drinks and hopes of more. My father, deeply offended, said little for the first part of the meal.
I, however, could not stay quiet. Later, once seated and waiting for our appetizers, I went to the hostess stand and asked to speak to the manager. The hostess, not batting an eyelash, said, "Right away, sir." Boris appeared in a couple of minutes.
"Thank you for coming so promptly. First, let me say that we are Citricos veterans who consider your restaurant the finest in WDW; we never fail to dine here when we visit. But my party got a most unmagical jolt at the bar."
I recounted the incident. Boris, frowning, said, yes, that is peculiar behavior. I stressed that I expected no recompense for this: I only wanted to know if this was expected behavior. He jotted our and our server's names on a pad, apologized, and said champagne and dessert were on the house. I thanked Boris.
The champagne came about fifteen minutes later. Boris himself appeared at our surprised table (I hadn't told anyone what I'd done), apologized again, and explained about dessert. After Boris had gone, my father said ten minutes earlier on his way to the restroom he'd seen Boris looking rather stern as he talked to our bartender.
The meal was wonderful and the bad feelings evaporated. The moral of this story, then, is to confront situations. Don't send emails after the fact. Complain to managers as soon as incidents happen. Stand your ground politely, firmly, and eloquently.
Upon arrival we received our buzzer and headed for the bar. We ordered a Macallan 18 neat, a glass of chardonnay, and a Manhattan. After pouring the wine and mixing my cocktail, the bartender said, loudly, "Oh, wow, I must not have my glasses because I can't find the bottle."
"You're holding it," my father said.
A weird exchange. The bottle was visible to anyone within 12 feet of the counter and we're not talking about Dewar's or something. Then the coup de grace: the bartender shouted the total and placed the bill on the table. For those unacquainted with bar etiquette, this is most unusual. It's OK to place the most recent receipt in or under a glass but not to (a) announce the total to everyone within earshot as if it were college night at Hooters (b) close the tab when it was obvious we were waiting for a table and the rest of our party (the bartender had asked when we arrived) and no one else seated at the bar had a receipt in front of them. The bar had three other patrons seated and two other parties at tables ordering food: busy but not overwhelmingly so. The only conclusion I could make was that this man did not want our patronage, despite the expensive drinks and hopes of more. My father, deeply offended, said little for the first part of the meal.
I, however, could not stay quiet. Later, once seated and waiting for our appetizers, I went to the hostess stand and asked to speak to the manager. The hostess, not batting an eyelash, said, "Right away, sir." Boris appeared in a couple of minutes.
"Thank you for coming so promptly. First, let me say that we are Citricos veterans who consider your restaurant the finest in WDW; we never fail to dine here when we visit. But my party got a most unmagical jolt at the bar."
I recounted the incident. Boris, frowning, said, yes, that is peculiar behavior. I stressed that I expected no recompense for this: I only wanted to know if this was expected behavior. He jotted our and our server's names on a pad, apologized, and said champagne and dessert were on the house. I thanked Boris.
The champagne came about fifteen minutes later. Boris himself appeared at our surprised table (I hadn't told anyone what I'd done), apologized again, and explained about dessert. After Boris had gone, my father said ten minutes earlier on his way to the restroom he'd seen Boris looking rather stern as he talked to our bartender.
The meal was wonderful and the bad feelings evaporated. The moral of this story, then, is to confront situations. Don't send emails after the fact. Complain to managers as soon as incidents happen. Stand your ground politely, firmly, and eloquently.
funny how things stick in your memory!
