Serendipity and the Death of a Restaurant
With the coming demise of 2006, my wife and I discussed where we might like to have dinner. Her suggestion hit home, a steak house where we had not visited for almost a year. It would be great to eat there again.
The restaurant has a small but lasting place in our hearts. We went there on a whim several years ago. As a high-end steak place I have a preconceived expectation of customer service. As it turned out the staff provides exceptional service, however my wife’s steak did not quite have quality of mine. As we were leaving one of the managers, Chris, asked how our visit. I complimented him on the service and food, but did mention the toughness of my wife’s steak. Chris immediately apologized and reached in his pocket and handed me a gift card, more than enough to cover the cost of the steak, and asked us to return - Serendipity.
We did return several weeks later. The restaurant has this inviting patio, with a fireplace, tables with tablecloths, an outdoor grill, which serves barbeque during happy hour, and patio furniture that puts mine to shame. My wife, daughter, and her boyfriend and I all had glasses of wine, and we shared deserts. When it came time to pay the bill, I handed the waiter the gift card and a credit card with instructions: “use up the gift card and put the rest on the credit card.” The waiter came back perplexed, saying he did not understand what I wanted him to do. I explained again, and he still looked perplexed. I tried a third time, I told him the amount on the gift card and to put the rest on the credit card.” The waiter, still looking confused, replied, “Sir, the gift card is 5 times that amount.” The amount on the card was not the deal I had with the restaurant. I asked to see the manager, and explained the situation. He offered to cover the full tab and keep the card, for which I agreed. To some I may have lost the remaining amount on the card, but the money did not belong to me. However, for each time we returned to the restaurant, Chris seated us, took our wine order, and delivered it himself. We never saw those drinks on any bill. Serendipity.
One last addition – as you enter any of the bars’ booths, you will note several very small brass plaques, each just large enough to display the name of an individual or couples who have patronized the restaurant over the years. Thanks to Chris, we too have a plaque, “Gary and Trish - Forever in Blue Jeans” in reference to a Neil Diamond song we both love.
We arrive early New Years Eve evening and not surprising the bar is almost full. Two of the three remaining table are marked “Reserved, ” something we have not seen before. The third table seats six, too large for the just the two of us. One of the waiters approaches, and we explain we want to eat in the bar. He seats us in the two-seater booth with the “Reserved” sign, explaining that the people who requested it had not shown up. Serendipity.
While waiting for our drinks, another of the waiters, Teresa, greets us and comments how New Years Eve is to be the last night of the restaurants finite life. The parent company has decided to close the Dallas location. We had chosen to eat here on impulse, and it has given us a chance to bid goodbye to a wonderful place. Serendipity.
I notice an elderly couple entering the bar. The man seems to glance at the booth we are in more than once and I wonder if we are sitting where they expected to. I ponder offering the booth to him since we had not yet ordered our food, but one of the waiters, offers them an open booth. Later, we find the couple had expected to sit in our booth. A few minutes later I notice another person unexpectedly joining them. If they had sat in their requested booth, there would have been room for the additional person. Serendipity.
As our visit winds down, we enjoy a cup of their wonderful coffee, accented by chocolate chunk cookies, complements of Chris. Our conversation with Teresa has her moving to a sister restaurant in Washington, DC. Another waiter will stay in Dallas and follow another career; another expresses concerns as to where she will land. As for Chris, he will stay until the place is dismantled and parted out. We are on a “notify” list should the general manager and Chris start another restaurant, something Chris mentioned they might do.
As we leave, we comment on the bar, the patio, and the wonderful times we had here. We say goodbye to those we know. We will miss this place, its ambiance, its waiters, and its managers. We leave for the last time, but take with us wonderful memories, colorful stories, and one small but ever unique item - we leave with a small brass plaque in our hand. Serendipity.
The restaurant has a small but lasting place in our hearts. We went there on a whim several years ago. As a high-end steak place I have a preconceived expectation of customer service. As it turned out the staff provides exceptional service, however my wife’s steak did not quite have quality of mine. As we were leaving one of the managers, Chris, asked how our visit. I complimented him on the service and food, but did mention the toughness of my wife’s steak. Chris immediately apologized and reached in his pocket and handed me a gift card, more than enough to cover the cost of the steak, and asked us to return - Serendipity.
We did return several weeks later. The restaurant has this inviting patio, with a fireplace, tables with tablecloths, an outdoor grill, which serves barbeque during happy hour, and patio furniture that puts mine to shame. My wife, daughter, and her boyfriend and I all had glasses of wine, and we shared deserts. When it came time to pay the bill, I handed the waiter the gift card and a credit card with instructions: “use up the gift card and put the rest on the credit card.” The waiter came back perplexed, saying he did not understand what I wanted him to do. I explained again, and he still looked perplexed. I tried a third time, I told him the amount on the gift card and to put the rest on the credit card.” The waiter, still looking confused, replied, “Sir, the gift card is 5 times that amount.” The amount on the card was not the deal I had with the restaurant. I asked to see the manager, and explained the situation. He offered to cover the full tab and keep the card, for which I agreed. To some I may have lost the remaining amount on the card, but the money did not belong to me. However, for each time we returned to the restaurant, Chris seated us, took our wine order, and delivered it himself. We never saw those drinks on any bill. Serendipity.
One last addition – as you enter any of the bars’ booths, you will note several very small brass plaques, each just large enough to display the name of an individual or couples who have patronized the restaurant over the years. Thanks to Chris, we too have a plaque, “Gary and Trish - Forever in Blue Jeans” in reference to a Neil Diamond song we both love.
We arrive early New Years Eve evening and not surprising the bar is almost full. Two of the three remaining table are marked “Reserved, ” something we have not seen before. The third table seats six, too large for the just the two of us. One of the waiters approaches, and we explain we want to eat in the bar. He seats us in the two-seater booth with the “Reserved” sign, explaining that the people who requested it had not shown up. Serendipity.
While waiting for our drinks, another of the waiters, Teresa, greets us and comments how New Years Eve is to be the last night of the restaurants finite life. The parent company has decided to close the Dallas location. We had chosen to eat here on impulse, and it has given us a chance to bid goodbye to a wonderful place. Serendipity.
I notice an elderly couple entering the bar. The man seems to glance at the booth we are in more than once and I wonder if we are sitting where they expected to. I ponder offering the booth to him since we had not yet ordered our food, but one of the waiters, offers them an open booth. Later, we find the couple had expected to sit in our booth. A few minutes later I notice another person unexpectedly joining them. If they had sat in their requested booth, there would have been room for the additional person. Serendipity.
As our visit winds down, we enjoy a cup of their wonderful coffee, accented by chocolate chunk cookies, complements of Chris. Our conversation with Teresa has her moving to a sister restaurant in Washington, DC. Another waiter will stay in Dallas and follow another career; another expresses concerns as to where she will land. As for Chris, he will stay until the place is dismantled and parted out. We are on a “notify” list should the general manager and Chris start another restaurant, something Chris mentioned they might do.
As we leave, we comment on the bar, the patio, and the wonderful times we had here. We say goodbye to those we know. We will miss this place, its ambiance, its waiters, and its managers. We leave for the last time, but take with us wonderful memories, colorful stories, and one small but ever unique item - we leave with a small brass plaque in our hand. Serendipity.
posted by G. Steven Nolte at 12:03 PM
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