Me=customer. You=serve me.
Monday, October 20th, 2008I was down in southern Utah this past week for a family reunion. The phrase ‘family reunion’ is actually Latin: the word ‘family’ means ‘periodic gathering’, and ‘reunion’ means ‘of people you could barely tolerate when you were a kid, let alone an adult’. Actually, we had a very good time with a number of extended relatives who I admire and whose company I enjoy. And by a number I mean two. Again, just kidding. Great folks who I am happy to know and with whom I enjoy reminiscing.
While we were there, I took my immediate family to a restaurant called Texas Roadhouse Steakhouse. You may be familiar with it. Texas-themed joint (I aint no Texan, but I done figured that one out by the name), stainless steel tubs of unshelled peanuts at every table, lots of knotty alder, cartoon-drawing, oversized head pictures of country celebrities (Willy Nelson, Faith Hill [mmm . . . Faith-a-licious], that dude whose dad pitched for the Phillies), and plenty of yee-hawness to go around.
Our server was a guy who looked the part of a roadie for ZZ-Top. Big-ol seventies ‘do, long sideburns that connected to a mustache (just like the bass player from the movie ‘This is Spinal Tap’), long-sleeve tee shirt underneath a short-sleeved one. Now, I’m no Zagat wannabe, but he was about the best server I’ve ever had. I had my four monsters in tow, who range in age from sixteen to 7 (actually, sometimes the sixteen-year-old acts like he’s seven - or more like 3), and he went out of his way to make sure all their food and beverage needs were more than accommodated.
I had a meat-a-saurus hankerin’ (this is, after all, a Texas steak place so the word ‘hankerin” seems appropos), so I got steak, pulled pork, and ribs, and he made sure I had all the sauce coverage I could handle. He refilled drinks before they were empty, was willing to change out a cooked steak that wasn’t quite done the way one of my boys liked (we passed, but the offer was nice), and he kept things hopping. He wasn’t stingy with the to-go containers, and checked back more than he probably needed to on how things were going. He explained the way their meat was cooked and cut, how their sirloin steaks were a tender cut above the rest. He made Jeeves look like Homer Simpson in comparison.
He received a well-deserved tip that was notably higher than normal. I thought about this when I tallied up the cost of the additional items he brought to our table, including extra rolls, honey butter, and the other aforementioned items. Probably no comparison, his tip being considerably higher.
He brought in additional tip income for himself and the other wait staff, and an eventual return trip from a very satisfied customer.
My point? Pretty simple. Good customer service is nearly priceless in its impact on a restaurant in goodwill, good word-of-mouth, and revenue. Props to the guy at Texas Roadhouse who admirably served our needs. And props to all of you restaurant owners who make sure your wait staff do the same things.
