Being a regular
I had dinner Saturday night at the restaurant in my neighborhood where I eat most. From the first time I visited, I decided I wanted to “be a regular,” and early on we went frequently, schmoozed extensively, and tipped well to get the staff to remember us.
Saturday was a good example of the success of our efforts. The restaurant was full, but the owner put us on his waiting list without asking my name–although I gave it to him anyway–then took us as quickly as he could. He sat us in the front section, with his best waiter, who gave us a hearty greeting and cracked jokes the entire time. Each of them came by several times to check on us and chit-chat.
At the end of the meal, I asked our waiter his name, which prompted him to ask us our names. When we left, he thanked us by name. The owner saw us leaving, came over to me, shook my hand, and apologized to me by name for the wait.
The food, as always, was delicious. But our experience there makes us more and more likely to return (although the vermicelli ala vongole doesn’t hurt).
At some restaurants, only the hard-core regulars get this kind of treatment. At our spot, though, this is generally how we’ve always been treated. Our fun waiter is fun with everyone; should you order the cheese platter, the owner sits down at your table and personally explains the selection.
This restaurant has figured it out: customer service is king. The minimal decor and packed-in seating become afterthoughts when good food is served by a welcoming staff. It’s such a simple answer to a basic business question–how to get customers to come back.
Why, then, is it so hard to execute? Last weekend we ate at a highly regarded new restaurant in our neighborhood where the waiter did not speak to us from the moment we ordered until I hunted him down to ask for the check. A few weeks before that, another restaurant’s owner berated me on the phone when I said I was running 10 minutes late for my reservation. At that restaurant, our waitress actually disproved of our wine selection and told us it “wasn’t very good.” (Compare this to Spiga, around the corner from my regular spot, which let me order dinner twice just because I was an idiot.)
Which led to Saturday, when, in considering our dinner options, we barely thought twice before going back to our spot, which had a wait for a table all night. It’s easy to understand why.