Reprehensible
It’s a pretty strong word to describe service, but as one who takes pride in serving my customers, I have certain expectations when I go out. If serving is your job, why not do it to the best of your ability? I don’t know why this is such a novel concept. I don’t always go the extra mile. For instance, I had a customer come in with her dog. She sat down on the patio next to a WATER BOWL FOR DOGS. She asked me for water, I pointed at the bowl. She seemed a little put out, but seriously, dogs chow on each other’s assholes, I’m sure hers could drink from an hour old bowl of water. But I digress. I had brunch at Anisette Brasserie on Sunday; and, while the food was great, the service was horrible.
My friend Carrie came into town from Houston. You wouldn’t guess she was from H-Town until she busts out with “Golly!” When she told she was coming in on Sunday at ten-thirty ayem, I asked if I should make a lunch reservation for one. She couldn’t comprehend why I would want to eat alone. She’s the cutest. We walked down to Anisette for our “one” o’ clock reservation. Her friend Jen met us there. We waited a few minutes for our table. First of all, Anisette is stunning. They really nailed the design on that place. I was told by my friend Liz that the almond croissant was amazing, so when I caught the eye of a server, I ordered that along with our drinks: coffee, tea, and a bloody Mary. Since it was her first day, she passed the information along to our server. He came over to inform us that they were out of almond croissants. I got up and escorted him over to the pastry area and pointed out the last almond croissant. God forbid the guy should look around the medium sized tray of bread for what I ordered. After punching him in the throat for wasting my time, I returned to the table. A couple minutes later, our drinks and croissant arrived which, I have to say, was perhaps one of the greatest pastries I have ever eaten.
Carrie, who loves vodka, but doesn’t love tomato juice, but loves bloody Marys, (I know it’s complicated), wanted another shot of Goose. I flagged down the first day server and ordered a shot and a Bloody Mary for myself. This was the beginning of the end. Our server came over and we ordered: French onion soup to start, a burger, with brie, pancetta, and avocado for me, eggs Benedict for Carrie, and Jen ordered a turkey, egg scramble on a CROISSANT. I, also, told our server of our drink order. After twenty minutes and telling the hostess and our first day server that our drinks hadn’t arrived, the manager came over. Now when I’m only operating on caffeine and not enough sleep, my patience runs thin. I explained the situation and the drink and shot appeared. Now when I’m paying twelve bucks for a bloody Mary and it says it’s garnished a certain way, that’s what I expect. Not so much. I told the manager and he made it right. About twenty-five minutes after our second drink order, our server, who I thought we would next see on a milk carton, brought the bloody Mary and shot we already received. At this point, I just wanted to tear out his eyes and piss on his brain.
We commiserated with the table next to us. The gentleman said, “I didn’t know which I would get first: my wine or my first social security check and I’m fifty-nine.” The table on our other side got up to leave and congratulated us on getting our drink. I felt like it was my wedding. The soup came and it was delicious. The rest of our food eventually arrived, but Jen’s scramble came on brioche. I said to the food runner that the bread wasn’t a croissant. He said it was. I argued that it was brioche. He walked away. I’m pretty sure this croissant expert, food runner has been to Paris…Texas, after he swam across the Rio Grande to get here. Hey, I’m no expert on pastry but when a customer questions something, get someone who knows. A manager walks by and I ask, “Is that a croissant?” He replied, “No, it’s a brioche.” Deja fucking vous! He apologized and took her plate to the kitchen. He returned a couple minutes later with said plate. He apologized that they were out of croissants. I work in a bar. We run out of stuff. Shit happens. But this is a french fucking bistro on Sunday at two in the afternoon. How can you run out of croissants? And why didn’t our “haven’t seen him since my ten year reunion” server inform us of this? The manager offered to get her something else, but since my thirty-year is just around the corner, she decided to eat what she got. For the record, my burger was amazing and Carrie said it was possibly the best hollandaise she ever had.
As someone who works in the service industry, I can usually tell the difference between a bad server and a poorly staffed restaurant. This was an instance of both. If he had been a good server, he might have checked once every eon or so to see how we were doing. I was told not too expect good service from a French restaurant. NEWS FLASH: This is America. Act accordingly. I asked the table next to us if he would ever come back and he said, “No.” I, on the other hand, may return. The food was that good and if you’re ever near Anisette, stop by and grab an almond croissant. Just don’t expect much from the service, because it was reprehensible.
Don’t go back. There are several restaurants in the Los Angeles area that offer good food as well as good service. If you must eat their food try take-out!