Oh, isn't it horrific? My waitress left my water glass empty for 10 minutes, or my steak was undercooked. Naturally, I have to tell the whole goddamn world about it. And while I'm at it- I'll pretend that I know how to compose a dish better than a chef- because the weekly episode of Chopped I watch, qualifies me to do that. I'll write lengthy reviews that benefit no one and then read them over and over again while chuckling wildly. Ha! Two stars! Take that! You should have given me that corner booth I wanted. Now who's 'spoken for?' Mwahahahaaa! I'll use phrases I never use in real life, like "on point" or "hits it out of the park."
You've created a monster. Actually, hundreds of thousands of monsters- disguised as pleasant customers. It's like you've unleashed an army of Adam Platt drones. Nobody wants that. Nobody.
Every time someone pulls out a camera and starts photographing their food, restaurant owners have to hold their breath. Oh my god, are they yelping? I think they're yelping. Is everything okay? Do they look happy? Well, you better pray they're happy. It will be super fun when the staff of an entire restaurant has to sit through an extra staff meeting to address some anonymous Yelper's ridiculous complaint. Super fun.
(Any Restaurant USA) has a pleasant but somewhat sterile ambiance. It has the look of an early 20th century watering hole with ceiling fans, semi-flush ball lighting, and colours all in black and white (including old black and white photos on a wall in the back).
Despite the early 1900s look, they were playing nice and slow pop music from the 1960s and early 70s.
When you step in, there are a bunch of tables to your left that are too close together, in my onion, and, on the right, three tables with adequate space in between. There are three booths in the back area. And they have a long bar.
Holy shit. I just fell asleep sitting up. Guess what? This is totally unnecessary information. I could probably reference the pictures they have on their website, instead of reading your step by step snoozefest description. And you just wrote, "in my onion." Dummy. Okay, maybe that was mean. I guess this guy is benign enough- but do you see where I'm going here? You can't rely on any of these people. It just seems so ridiculous and unfair. Why should customers be the only people benefiting from this completely subjective, made up, rating system- that totally depends on each individuals mood and taste?
As someone who has been in the service industry for, forever, I am pitching a new idea. A yelp type site where servers can rate customers. Sort of like the opposite of Yelp. Pley? No, that is a horrible name. I haven't ironed out all of the kinks yet- but this is going to be HUGE.
So many people consult Yelp when making their dining decisions. It is totally understandable why restaurant owners would be really concerned with what people say. Can you imagine how great it would be to have a similar database to reference, for those times when you really need to know how to treat a difficult customer?
The basic idea of it is this: waiters upload pictures of customers along with stories/ reviews about why they are horrific or great. You can search by neighborhood- browse the main offenders- and always be ready to treat customers as they deserve to be treated.
The following is an example of Pley's functionality:
It's 10:50 pm, and your restaurant closes at eleven. A couple walks in. Smartly dressed, but definitely looking a little odd and tired.
Waiter 1: Oh my god, I saw their picture on Pley (working title). They are fucking awful. She is going to order her fish to be served to her almost raw. Seriously. And not sushi-grade fish, either. Like a whole fish- on the bone. She wants to eat that shit almost raw! Then, they are going to modify their order until it doesn't resemble anything that we serve now, or would ever serve in this restaurant- ever. It's going to take us ten fucking minutes to explain it to the chef. Then, they are going to start eating. Slowly. They will be obviously annoyed when we bring out their second course before they are done with their salads, but holy shit- it will be 11:40 and we would like to go home eventually. Then, she is going to complain that her fish isn't raw enough (gross) but eat it anyway because the cooks have already turned all the burners off and can't make another one. Then she is going to fall asleep half way through her meal. Sitting up. I am not shitting you. And her husband is going to act like he doesn't notice. We won't be home until 2 am.
Waiter 2: No way.
Waiter 1: Way.
Smartly dressed weirdo couple: We need a table for two.
Waiter 2: Sorry. We're closed.
Crisis averted! Yay, Pley!
Now, this completely subjective, bullshit rating system can go both ways. Seems fair. I'm going to start ironing out the details.
Isn't it genius? Well, I thought of it first.