Note: I sent a shorter version of this story to a few friends via email. The response was so overwhelming I decided to blog it. Here’s hoping you enjoy it as well:
Last week I had an important business dinner regarding a film project. The dinner was at Wolfgang Puck’s outrageously expensive steakhouse Cut which is located in the outrageously expensive Beverly Wilshire Hotel. For the film folks, this hotel has a big pedigree: not only is it where Richard Gere stayed in Pretty Woman, both Warren Beatty and Elvis Presley lived in the hotel, each for a couple of years. John Lennon lived there for a time as well. It’s that kind of place.
I arrive early, as is my wont. Because I’m early, I go into the bar, Sidebar, which is a separate space across a lobby from the restaurant. I sit down at the bar and order a gin martini, also my wont. The actual bar, while long and beautiful, has a terrible design flaw I’ve encountered a number of times in the last few years: the last two inches of the bar slopes down slightly. Perhaps the thinking is that it makes it more comfortable to rest an arm there than a hard right angle? I have no idea but the problem is that if you place your drink on or anywhere near the edge, where most people place their drink, it slides right off. I’d like to know what idiot thought this up. The photo below is of Sidebar. If you click on the photo and look closely, particularly on the bar in the middle of the photo, you can see the tapered edge of the bar:
For the record, I’m dressed in my standard industry casual. Often in the film biz you don’t dress up really fancy unless you’re, say, an agent or lawyer. Let me also say for the record that I know nothing about clothes. Which often shows. My dream is to find something perfect to wear, buy five sets and wear only that, always. Eccentric, perhaps, but I’ll always look good and never have to worry. I haven’t found such clothes yet. For this meeting, I was dressed in my favorite boots, my favorite jeans and a light green button down no wrinkle shirt. Each of these items were handpicked by others, btw. My clothing sense is so bad I get help from a few female friends who do their best to keep me decently dressed.
So I’m sitting at the bar, enjoying my martini, excited for the meeting which happens in 12 minutes. I’m sitting at the curve closest to you in the photo above. There’s a guy standing next to me, close to the very end, with a friend of his. This poor guy gets his order from the bartender, a tankard of Syrah. After taking a first sip, he sets said tankard of Syrah on the bar. You can guess what happened next. Or you don’t have to guess, just look:
When the glass slid off the bar, it literally covered the entire left side of my body, shoulder to boot, with red wine. It was one of those moments you see in a movie when a packed room of talking, laughing people went completely silent. And of course all eyes are on me, standing there looking a bit like a half-body, red wine version of Sissy Spacek at the prom in Carrie. In that brief moment of silence, you could hear me dripping.
We are both standing frozen, this poor guy shocked and horrified at what happened while I’m trying to figure out what the hell to do in the next ten minutes before the people with whom I’m meeting show up. I’ll be immodest for a moment and say that if you need something done, fast, I’m the guy. I may not always make the right decision but if you need a decision made in a crisis, come stand by me. I’m standing there dripping and I go into my ‘action mode’, trying to think if I can salvage the night. Ok, maybe you can make a joke about it, laugh it off and just go to dinner like this. But this won’t work. Understand, I’m not shy. I wouldn’t be embarrassed to parade through Cut covered in red wine. But I am soaking wet. Seriously, not only is the wine dripping off me, it’s everywhere. Every move I make more wine flies around the room. I know the evening is over if I stay dressed like this. You changed shirts on the way, maybe you can get the other shirt. But it’s balled up on the floor of the backseat of my truck, which is under the hotel with the valet. Clothes, you need clothes. I look at my watch. It’s 8:17. Neiman’s is 2 blocks away. Run down there and buy something, anything. Crap, is Neiman’s even open? Do they close at 8 or 9? Let’s hope it’s 9. The men’s shop is on the third floor. If I call them as I run over…
This all goes through my head in a matter of seconds, along with trying to assure the fellow with the Syrah fixation to relax. I’m about to run down the street but before either of us could move, Boom! We are surrounded by staff. I’ve never quite seen anything like it. As two people start cleaning, the bar manager, Albert, pulls me into a small alcove and takes over. He already has a black jacket in his hand. I start to put it on. It’s too small. We also both realize as I try to put the jacket on that without a new shirt, even if it were to fit, this still isn’t going to work. I’m that wet. I remember at one point Albert was trying to assess just how bad the situation was while helping me with the coat and his hands touched my jeans. He said, “Wow, he really did get you, didn’t he?” Even my jeans were dripping.
Being the guy who usually takes over, it was disorienting and wonderful to be swept up in someone else who gets things done. At one point I said I had a shirt in the car. Four minutes later, no joke, the valet shows up with the balled up shirt, shaking it out, trying to make it presentable. In the meantime, Albert returns with another black coat, larger, and a black shirt. Where these come from, I could not tell you. It’s like magic. I grab the clothes and race to the bathroom, colliding on the way, of course, with my dinner companions. They are wonderful and after a lot of laughing, I make it to the bathroom, change clothes (perfect fit, natch) and as I told Albert later, I looked much better than when I walked into the hotel:
I’ve been blessed on occasion to be in some great restaurants and hotels. I’ve experienced great service. This was beyond all that. We end up at an amazing table, hard to get at Cut. Wolfgang Puck himself drops by the table to check in. (I was a bit of a gushing nerd, I’m afraid.) We have a great meal and meeting. This restaurant may be expensive but I’ve now been twice and it has some of the best food I’ve ever eaten. And 2.5 hours later when I leave the restaurant to get my car, my shirt is presented to me dry-cleaned and pressed, looking as if it came off the rack. There is something to be said for outrageously expensive places when they live up to the cost.
Albert? He reminded me of Winston Wolfe in Pulp Fiction. No dead Marvin was involved, sure, but wow was Albert calm, cool and in control. Harvey Keitel must have studied Albert before filming Pulp Fiction. I hope I’m around Albert when The Big One finally hits LA. I know I’ll be okay.
I’m not going to say I’m glad I ended up covered in Syrah. There was an infintesimal moment I absolutely hated right after the spill happened: I stood there, arms out, looking at myself, feeling just how wet I was and I realized Not even you, Tom, can fix this. I hate that feeling. And with all the problems in the world, I don’t mean to suggest that some spilled red wine is any kind of a big of a deal. It’s spilled red wine, the definition of a first world problem. At the same time, damned if Albert and the staff of both the restaurant and hotel didn’t take over, get the job done and make a rather large spill something pretty wonderful.
27 thoughts on “Spills and Service”
I think the single best story of customer service in this day and age.
If even just five percent of businesses did this, America would be a much better place.
BTW, I think the first blog entry that didn’t deal with details about food!
And the food was so good! Agreed about the service, one of the points, even as a first world problem. I’d like to emulate those people every day in my own life.
on the list of “what’s the worst that can happen”
that rocketed to the top. i will carry this with me on every flight, every hotel, and every carrier to show them this is how a customer should be treated
Bill! Thanks for the post and glad you enjoyed ! Hope all is well with you!
One of the best “spill” stories ever! So fantastic that you were treated like a foreign dignitary or big movie star. I have to say that the bar was either designed by a non-drinker or a sadist.
So please tell us all what you had for dinner after that incredible experience! You must have been flying high on adrenalin.
Mel, I’ve seen a number of these bars. They seem to be the ‘in’ thing. I myself fell victim to one once, at another place in LA. So I understood the poor fellow’s predicament.
We each had a steak: Two filets and I had a strip. Wow. So good. And a number of sides: Mashed potatoes, some shell beans and something else. Honestly, after Albert and Co, the night was a bit of a blur. We didn’t get any starters because at Cut, you are first presented with hot out of the oven Gougeres (yum!) and then an assortment of wonderful breads with three or four dazzling homemade mustards. Oh and some kind of chocolate dessert and a killer bread pudding. Life was good that night 🙂
Wow! Sounds amazing! I love excellent steak houses. I hope you got to enjoy a Martini after all of that…or maybe a nice Syrah. 😉
And the motto of the story is: always wear dark clothes when sitting at a sloping bar. Or a raincoat.
LOL. Indeed. Black. Always black.
1) I’m with you (of course) on the concept of having, in essence, a uniform, something to wear that always works. Lee always used to tell me, “If you like something, buy it in every color,” and turns out, he was right. (I will now even order online in every color.)….
2) You haven’t answered one of the most important questions of the evening: Did you get to keep the new outfit?
I did not keep the outfit! I wonder if I could have? I sure would have loved to have that jacket 🙂 But it didn’t occur to me, I just gave it back as I had both the balled up shirt from the back of the car and the newly pressed Syrah shirt. But the three button jacket was rocking it.. I think I need to go shopping…
What a great story. Thank you for the detailed rendition and photos. Felt like the wine was spilled on me!
Hey! Thanks for the post. So glad you enjoyed it!
OMG… just how big are these tankards?? What a totally awesome response by Albert and staff! That is one thing that I truly love about America, you have such wonderful standards of service. Everywhere I have been in the States, staff are always charming, friendly and welcoming (and efficient).
They pour a nice big glass of wine!! LOL. I think every drop hit me. As someone who waited tables for ten years, I am proud to agree that yes We do tend to have a good service here !
I may resemble a bag of mixed spanners myself, and my personal dress sense is universally acknowledged as being “fell out of a second storey window into an Oxfam skip”, but I am very good at dressing other people. That jacket is great… you should definitely get one!
I think I will look for one!
Tom, I’m dying laughing here. Great story! It’s a movie scene waiting to be shot. As for the dinner, I’m proud that you had the strip… Yum. You look great in the black jacket. Def need to go buy one. Jeans with a sport coat always looks sharp. Albert was clearly the right man for the moment. Also, I totally relate to you being able to react quickly in a crisis… By brain works so much better in moments like that than on just an average Tuesday. Thanks for the story! Perfect for my insomnia ridden night.
Elizabeth ! So glad you enjoyed it, thanks! And yes don’t you live a strip! Particularly a bone-in version yum 🙂 I hope you have an amazing year two btw. Looking forward to hearing all about it.
Tom, what a wonderful solution from the staff. Kind of makes you want a spill trained personal assistant…
I had a similar experience several years ago. I was at lunch with coworkers and had an entire bowl of ranch dressing spilled on my lap and my coat. The waiter ineffectively tried to clean the mass of ranch dressing with napkins and I ended up cleaning more of it off than he did. The twist was that I had a job interview right after lunch. I went to the interview and even though my clothes had been cleaned, I kept my coat on the entire time! The interview went well but I’ve always wondered if the interviewer thought it was weird that I never took off my coat.
Love your story-telling skills,
Hey, Debi! Thank you! And that’s a great story of yours too. Ranch! I think thats even worse than syrah. And I always wonder what people on the otherwise of a job interview think as well…
I can just see it! If I had been there with you I probably would have wet my pants from laughing so hard (unfortunately somethingI have experience with). The worst that has happened to me was when a waitress spilled a picture of iced tea down my back. All I can say is COLD. Glad all worked out and now you have another story to entertain us with.
Yikes! Cold indeed. And I think back is worse than front!
I guess all that stuff in “Pretty Woman” was no bullshit!
ha! You are right!
I confess I’ve gotten very behind on your blog, so am taking advantage of the holiday to catch up a little. Oh. My. SO sorry this happened, but what a great outcome!
It was worth it, Mike! 🙂