Diners are usually the ones to complain. But ask restaurateurs what bugs them about customers and there’s likely to be a long groan, a knowing laugh or something like, “How much time do you have?”
Restaurant owners realize they’re in the service business. “Our job is to make the customer feel good, not to be as sensitive as they are,” says Francis Namin, owner of Don Pollo restaurants and the new Food, Wine & Co., slated to open in Bethesda in June. “In the hospitality industry, [dealing with difficult diners] comes with the territory.”
That territory encompasses a wide range of behavior.
“Every night, there’s always something,” says Tom Williams, co-owner of Rock Creek Restaurant in Bethesda. “You have to take a deep breath, smile and nod. I wish the politicians in the world would learn from us. You have to grin and bear it and move on.”
Here are local restaurateurs’ top 10 pet peeves about diners, listed in no particular order. You know who you are.
You make a reservation on a busy night and don’t call to cancel.
“We’ll have 30 people waiting at the bar and two open [reserved] tables, and they don’t show up,” says Francesco Ricchi, owner of Cesco Trattoria in Bethesda. Or worse, people will reserve tables in multiple restaurants, then decide at the last minute where they’ll eat, he says.
This past Valentine’s Day, La Ferme in Chevy Chase was fully booked for dinner, and owner Alain Roussel had to turn away 350 people who called for a table. In the end, 100 people didn’t show up for their reservations.
You try to pass off expired or bogus discount coupons.
Knowingly or not, customers “constantly” bring in expired coupons, says Brian Carmody, assistant general manager of Dogfish Head Alehouse in Gaithersburg. Sometimes they’ll even change the use-by date with a Magic Marker, Carmody says. Even tackier, customers will bring in coupons from another Gaithersburg restaurant, Bonefish Grill, cross out the word “Bone” and write in “Dog.”
You bring your own food.
At Oakville Grille and Wine Bar in Bethesda, manager Melody Stone can’t stand it when diners bring their own tea bags and ask for free hot water—or worse, order dessert, then go next door and bring back a Starbucks cappuccino to have with it. “I know people are very specific about the coffee they like, but we serve cappuccino and espresso,” Stone says.
John McManus, owner of The Barking Dog in Bethesda, says one of his worst nightmares is the diner who joins friends ordering there, but brings lunch from home. “They want to have a picnic in the restaurant,” he says. “We’re not Veterans Park.” McManus tells them they can’t eat their bagged lunch there, even if they offer to order a Coke and fries. It’s either order a meal or “adios,” he says.
Sometimes people bring entire meals from other restaurants. “I’ve had families come in with bags from Five Guys,” says Bobby Bloch, owner of Bobby’s Crabcakes in Rockville Town Square. A few people in the party will order from Bobby’s menu, but “we can’t allow a Five Guys spread in our dining room,” he says. “We’re pretty tolerant, but some things cross the line.”
You agree to the wait time for a table, then become furious when you have to wait.
This happens sometimes at the popular Cava restaurant in Rockville, where waits can be up to 2½ hours. People may wait at the bar or even go to a nearby restaurant for a drink, but when the wait really is the 2½ hours they’ve been told, they get mad, says Ted Xenohristos, one of the owners. “I understand why people are angry; I know they’re hungry,” he says. “But they curse me out.”
You polish off a dish, complain you didn’t like it, then demand to get it for free.
Ricchi of Cesco recalls one gentleman who finished his entire veal chop, then told the waiter he didn’t care for it. Ricchi came out of the kitchen and said to the man, “I understand you didn’t enjoy your chop, but you forgot to say what part you didn’t enjoy. You only left the bone.” The man got visibly upset and his face reddened, but other patrons started clapping, Ricchi recalls.
Gabrielle Martinez, assistant manager of Nicaro in Silver Spring and daughter of chef-owner Luis Martinez, says she has a “three-bite policy.” If someone doesn’t like what they’ve been served, they can get something else, but only if they’ve eaten a small amount, she says. And, yes, they have to pay for their meal.
You ask the waiter what’s good on the menu.
“If it’s not good, it shouldn’t be on the menu,” says Duarte Rebolo, head chef and owner of Tavira in Chevy Chase. “You think I’m going to put something not good on the menu?”
You’re a wine snob and a show-off, or just generally self-important.
“I love the whole aspect of being around people and serving them,” says Jeremy Hummer, co-owner and executive chef of Nest Cafe in Bethesda. “But one thing that bothers me is sometimes you get people—especially with wine—who want to show off. They’ll tell me all about the wine, but they don’t know what they’re talking about. I spent 10 years importing wine…and a lot of time in Italy.”
Other restaurateurs say they sometimes have to deal with arrogant types. Bloch of Bobby’s Crabcakes recalls one customer who changed his side dish order to a more expensive item, then got furious when he was charged the difference.
“There are some people who just think they’re entitled,” Bloch says.
You steal the pepper mills.
“Oh, yes, people walk out with our pepper grinders,” Bloch says. He has had to replace 20 to 30 of them since he opened in 2007, at $20 a pop.
Other restaurateurs have given up. In one local establishment, the wait staff now offers freshly ground pepper from communal mills since too many grinders were snatched from the tables. And at the now-closed Amada Amante, the vanishing $30 pepper grinders eventually were replaced by less expensive salt and pepper shakers, says Hummer, who co-owned the Rockville establishment before opening Nest Cafe.
You steal the silverware.
“Our silverware is nice,” says Cava’s Xenohristos. “It’s made by Mikasa.” Xenohristos realizes that forks, spoons and knives can vanish for other reasons, such as being inadvertently thrown out. But still, he says the restaurant ends up ordering about 25 pieces of new silverware every three weeks, at a cost of $100 to $200.
Claude Amsellem, owner of Tragara Ristorante in Bethesda, is also familiar with disappearing silverware, estimating he spends about $2,000 a year replenishing it. But patrons aren’t always the culprits. Amsellem once caught an employee mid-heist, with nearly three dozen pieces of the expensive silver.
You steal the big stuff.
Anything that’s not securely fastened apparently is fair game for restaurant thieves.
At the eclectically decorated Relic Restaurant, Bar and Lounge in Bethesda, two wooden lion heads that decorated the top of a chair were misappropriated, leading one to wonder what the pilferer would ever do with them.
Xenohristos remembers one man who went into the men’s room, stole a picture off the wall and stuffed it up the back of his trench coat. Like many restaurants, Cava has multiple cameras (Woodmont Grill in Bethesda has 16), so the outline of the frame on his back was captured on video. Even more bizarre is that the man continues to dine there five or six times a month. Xenohristos says he has kept mum about the theft, adding that the man had a few too many drinks that night. “We thought it was more funny than anything,” Xenohristos says. “He’s a good customer.”
Years ago, when Amsellem owned Claude’s in Gaithersburg, he couldn’t keep silent when a waiter told him a female diner had just stashed an empty teapot in her purse. Amsellem resolved the situation by telling the waiter to put “Teapot, $15” on the check. The woman and her husband paid the bill, including the $15. Then, Amsellem recalls, “they left—fast.”
Carole Sugarman is Bethesda Magazine’s Food Editor.
