Standing in front of Phillips Famous Seafood, I was reviewingmy day and savoring what might be ahead. I had been told Phillips was verygood.
This business trip was a one-dayer which included a 6:10 a.m. departingflight out of Raleigh, connecting in Baltimore and landing in Louisville before9:30 a.m. The return included a 5:10 p.m. flight from Louisville with the lengthylayover in Baltimore and a scheduled 10:35 p.m. arrival into Raleigh. My alarm,set for 4:15 that morning, failed me and when I opened my eyes, the clock read4:56!
It’s obvious now that I can shave, shower, and dress a littlefaster than usual. Even with a 15 minute drive to the airport, parking the car,walking to the terminal, having my briefcase checked through the scanningdevice twice and once by a TSA employee, and stopping long enough to purchase acopy of The News & Observer, I managed to board in my A28 spot in line.
The Baltimore connection was just 30 minutes, during which thefirst inkling of bad food service in one of the nicest terminals came straightat me. As I literally ran from arrival gate toward departure gate, I stopped inat McDonald’s for a cup of coffee and a breakfast something-a-rather, whateverthe Golden Arches serves these days. I asked to put the cream and sugar intothe cup myself and was told McDonald’s does it for you. The last time I wastold the same, I ended up with three creams and three sugars. I prefer no morethan one of each and sometimes less so, after this second try on the coffee, McDonald’shas lost me again as a customer. Arby’s fulfilled my request and sold me theegg, bacon, and cheese biscuit; I was off for Louisville.
What I did in Louisville is of no meaning or interest here,but it should turn out to be a success for business. So, what you are about toread (if you’ll keep going) is a true story and in one sense unbelievable but,considering the lack of desire some people have about working in the serviceindustry even after taking the job, what happened to me could happen to you.
During that stop in Baltimore on the return trip, after pacingfrom one end of the terminal and back surveying most of the restaurant choices,I was standing in front of Phillips Famous Seafood, looking at the menu. Izeroed in on the fish selections and the crab cakes but was soon told thoseitems were no longer available that evening. No problem, I thought, lookingover the menu, when the hostess said quietly: “If you want a good crab cake, goto the other end of the terminal to Obrycki’s Restaurant and Bar. I’ve nevereaten there but I’ve sent plenty of customers who came back to say thanks forthe tip.”
Off I went; time was wasting. No, I was just a little morethan two hours away from departure; a little hungrier; a lot more tired. Soonand very quickly after arrival, I was seated in Obrycki’s, very much a baratmosphere in BWI but the menu looked wonderful. The waitress came right overand asked for a drink order. I just wanted a glass of water but was moreinterested in her menu suggestions. The decision, based on our talk, was thecrab soup and the broiled crab cake. Others nearby seemed to be enjoying thesame. I was anxious to enjoy mine. The order was set and off she went.
Five minutes later, no water yet, I caught the waitress’s eyeand she immediately brought a large full glass. I was thirsty and quickly drankhalf of it. And then I waited for the food. And I waited and waited and waited.I was getting antsy. I looked around for her attention again, but she was busyon the other side of the restaurant. The couple next to me wished me luck ingetting served, “but at least you got your water; we didn’t,” said the gentlemanas he finished his food and paid his bill.
After 25 minutes of waiting, the waitress made her way back tomy table. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked. “I’d just like my food,” Iresponded. “You’ve not gotten your food yet?” she said with some shock and thenoff she went as I looked perplexed at her response. Within a minute, shereturned and asked, “Did you have the Caesar salad?” More the perplexed and alittle perturbed, I told her “no” and reminded her of what I had ordered; herface showed more shock. Off she scurried. I followed with briefcase in tow,asking to see the manager. After a brief interlude, he came out and asked if Ineeded some assistance. I told him my problem. He was very abrupt and asked inharsh words, “Do you want your food or not?” It was too late for that, Iexplained as I walked out, hungrier, more and more tired, and getting a littlemore than miffed. My hunt for food continued.
Next stop, around the corner and closer to my departure gate,was the Silver Diner, an interesting place with a vast menu of breakfast,sandwiches, and other typical diner food including some seafood. Seating atSilver Diner includes some tables “outside” the main room in an areaoverlooking airport terminal construction, some tables inside a fake wroughtiron fence, and two long “bars,” one facing an array of select adult beveragebottles and one facing the kitchen. “Would you like a table inside or out orwould you prefer to sit at the bar and watch TV?” asked the host.
Not only did I opt for a bar seat but one at the long andempty area near the back of the room, facing the kitchen. I did so becausethere seemed to be a plethora of wait people and no one else was seated at anyof the 25 seats. As I saddled up to the bar, waitresses a plenty walked backand forth in front of me, none paying any attention to this now weary andhungry traveler with about 90 minutes to take-off for home. I finally asked noone in particular if I could get a glass of water. “That’s your waitress overthere,” one said. “She’ll be with you in a moment.”
Looking to my left, I noticed the waitress assigned to myspace was talking with other of similar employment, none moving about takingcare of the patrons. About 30 seconds later, she came over and asked if I knewwhat I wanted to order to drink. “Yes, a glass of water, but do you have anysuggestions for dinner?” I responded. Then she mumbled something that endedwith “grilled crab cakes and breakfast all day.” I asked for clarification ofwhat she said in front of “grilled crab cakes and breakfast all day, and shemumbled again as she tried to move away, I think to get my water. I asked thatshe speak a little slower and she yelled, “I RECOMMEND THE GRILLED CRAB CAKESAND BREAKFAST ALL DAY!” Then she moved away, I thought to return with water.
Think again. Two minutes later, I had no water, there was noorder taken, and no waitress was standing in front of me. She was down at theother end of the bar, gabbing to her fellow waitresses. She soon walked pastand I asked again for water. She said she would get it soon. She startedfilling glasses with ice but none with water and walked past again with drinksin hand, set them down nearby and started her gabfest again. I asked no one inparticular for the manager. Soon a slightly built man about six feet tallwalked out from the back and asked if I had a problem. I explained what hadjust happened. His response, “Do you want to eat here? If so, sit down andsomeone will help you soon.”
That was enough for me. I said his chance was lost on thispotential customer and I was soon headed past the fake wrought iron fence andback into the terminal proper. Quiznos, one of the fast food places along fastfood row, was my next stop. I quickly ordered the Chicken Carbonara sub expectingsomewhat quick service with a somewhat decent tasting sandwich. Guess again.
Just as I ordered, there was what seemed like a shift changein the production line. There appeared a bossy woman who told the others thatshe would take over and make the sandwiches. The only other person helping her wasthe guy at the other end of the toasting conveyor who pulled the completedsandwich from the oven, cut it in half, wrapped it, announced what it is andhanded it to the claiming customer.
From the time I ordered to the time she took control making mydinner, three other customers ordered. All four orders were handed to hertogether and she positioned them in front of her. By now you may have guessed,my order, instead of being at the front of the line, now was at the back of thegroup. What was first became last, not a good sign for my needs. Irritation wasincreasing. I thought of Obrycki’s and the Silver Diner. I watched and waitedas she started her process. She must have been related to the waitress at theSilver Diner because she was soon into a gabfest with anyone around her whowould listen and all those who wouldn’t.
Of the three in front of me, she correctly prepared only one which means shemade two wrong sandwiches. “My bad,” she said loudly, laughing. “I’ll justmake’em again.” I wasn’t the only irritated soul on my side of the counter. Twoothers were in my camp. One said, “This is nuts. If she would just payattention, she would get it right.” She made those two before tackling myChicken Carbonara: “Chicken, bacon,mozzarella, mushrooms, Creamy Bacon Alfredo Sauce; Served on your choice ofArtisan Breads: Italian White, 9 Grain Artisan Wheat, Rosemary Parmesan, orItalian Herb.” I chose wheat bread which did little to help my health. Here’swhat the Quiznos website says about the sandwich: 515 calories, 25 grams offat; 60 mg of cholesterol; 1130 mg of sodium. (The Arby's bacon, egg and cheese biscuit a few hours earlier: 450 calories, 26 fat grams, 165 mg of cholesterol, 1610 mg of sodium. Let's face it: Fast Food as we know it is terrible for anyone and everyone.) Now back to the story.
To her credit, she made it correctlythe first time but after being first, now I was sixth. The sandwich made itsway through the toasting oven and into the hands of the cutter and wrapper. Hedid his duty, announced “Chicken Carbonara” and started to hand it to me. As Ireached for it, he pulled it back just a bit and asked, “Thank you?” I staredhim down, grabbed the sandwich. “What, no ‘have a nice day,?” he asked as Iwalked away and soon found myself consuming a most terrible sandwich. It mayhave been better if she had made a mistake. No more Quiznos for me.
As I sat at the nearby table,pondering and noting what had transpired that evening, a gentleman at the nexttable who had seen my frustration spoke up. “They just don’t want to workaround here,” he said.
“You’re right,” I said. “Not justhere at Quiznos. Let me tell you about the rest of my evening.”
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