The Safety Message – Reinvented

Companies that provide minimal amenities as part of their service package have been historically frowned upon by the editors of this blog.  However, there is always a slight chance that fantastic employees can connect to their guests by being nothing less than who they are; human.  Not robots who read the same announcements off the same scripts as per company mandates, but humans who feel the need to mix it up a bit if only with the purpose of entertaining themselves.

Although Southwest Airlines fits the “minimal amenities” category, they can make up for some of their service failures – like “Festival” seating, lack of food availability (although this is in the process of changing), lack of technology (although wifi installation is in progress), ridiculous hillbilly clientele sprawled out in queues on the floor in “A, B, or C” categories making airports across the U.S. look like a Mobile, Alabama version of Hotel Rwanda, and classless seating- by utilizing their employees to provide entertainment. Be sure to listen for the United Airlines shout-out at the end.

And the Awkward White Guy version:

The issue of Sanitary Service

Try to think of a restaurant venue that brandishes all of the following amaranthine service praxes that we have come to love:

- Features singing and dancing wait staff every thirty minutes during primetime.

- Serves your ketchup in a smiley-face.

- Creates grilled-to-order hand-pressed hamburgers alongside hand-dipped real ice cream milkshakes.

- Features table-side jukeboxes and free nickles from service staff.

And finally,

- TWIRLS YOUR STRAWS!

Of course, the establishment in question is Lake Forest, CA based “Johnny Rockets” and any desultory reader of this blog should have figured out that a Meltdown in service has occurred on more than one occasion with the twirling of straws.  First, let’s be clear;  Rockets does not produce the most consistent or appetizing food and must make up for this shortfall with quirky service lagniappes (term inserted for our Southern readers).  Second, these perks are both common and expected by all guests who visit the venue a second time or further.

Case in point:

From Rocket’s Guest Promise:

OUR GUEST PROMISE:

• Say “hello” and offer a smile to every Guest we see.
• Serve the freshest, highest quality simple All-American fare.
• Cheerfully serve Guests promptly in a sparkling clean restaurant.
• Dance, twirl straws and serve ketchup with a smile.
• Handle Guest needs right here and now.

Also, please view Rocket’s desperately platudinous and low-budget flash animation that proudly flaunts all of the above italicized “promises.”

The hopes and dreams of the VP involved in delivering this promise came crashing down when Exquisite Service visited the [new but already] tired Rockets on 20th and Pennsylvania NW in Washington, DC.

Twirling Straws? WTF?

If you’ve made it this far through this particular blog entry without storming off to your aging Webster’s in an attempt to discredit the author’s use of terminology that doesn’t even appear in your most vivid chimeras, then you should be aware of what the act of “Twirling Straws” is… but just in case your Monocle is a bit Foggy from last night’s escapades, let us draw it out for you:

Now, obviously the staff does not remove the entire device from the container like these untrained gentlemen do.  In addition, the actual “twirl” occurs as one lifts the straw plunger slowly out of the container, gently twisting (or twirling) it to allow the straws to fall into place neatly and uniformly.  One does not simply plunge the device up and down in an obscenely grotesque manner (all the while filming his indecency) as demonstrated in the video above.

The story continues.

May we present, The 2000 Pennsylvania Ave NW Johnny Rocket’s Straw Twirl:

A MELTDOWN of epic proportions.

With some text overlay, this photo could actually make it onto the Fail Blog, it’s just that horrendous.  So what exactly is going on here and why are the straws failing to fan and twirl?  Clearly, the straws are individually wrapped in plastic and thus have become too bulky, too long, and too intertwined to properly “fan out;” instead they remain in a solid vertical column which neither provides the aesthetic effect we’re looking for nor enables the signature “twirl” to take place.  Upon interrogating the manager as to the reason for this calamitous fail, he exclaims, “It’s Sanitary!”

True, individually wrapped straws are more sanitary than loose straws but come on… they’re in a closed jar!  How bad can it be?

The issue in which we are now presented forces a debate that may never be resolved.  Is this a Memory or a Meltdown?  Has the staff of this Johnny Rocket’s been proactive in preventing our imminent demise from surface-based pathogens?  Or are they just robbing us that service lagniappe we’ve come to expect?

The answer is not up for debate.  The staff here are fools to think that the burgers keep guests coming back for more.  IT’S THE STRAWS, STUPID!  Let us have our beloved “twirl!”

The FLL Case Study in Exquisite Service

Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport.  Some people love it, most people just think of it as Broward County’s HELL.  To be fair, this airport is preferable to the hustle and bustle of MIA, and your flight has a good chance of on-time performance so long as you are not flying amongst hurricanes in the late Summer/Fall.

I digress… Be not bamboozled by the post title, for this anecdote has diddly to do with flying, airplanes, on-time performance, or aviation at all!  Friends, we have met the ultimate scofflaw, and her name is “Veronica*.”

Veronica’s abhorrent ingress into my life occurred during an otherwise equable sally from Lauderdale to Washington, DC.  It involved a catastrophic decision to dine at “Vito’s Gourmet Deli” and, more importantly, to eat a Meatball Sandwich.  Please take a moment to picture the perfect meatball sandwich in  your head.  Actually, it does not matter what picture came to mind, as long as it involved copious amounts of white bubbly melted cheese (and if you specifically pictured “White American Cheese” please leave this blog immediately, and send an email to admin [searchforservice@gmail.com] so we can subtract one visitor from our now tarnished stats.)  It may not look exactly like the picture below but should be close:

Courtesy voodoolily.blogspot.com

This is NOT up for discussion; the true Gentleman will insist that there are only two ingredients of paramount importance to make the quintessential sandwich:  MEAT AND CHEESE.  Furthermore, a meatball sandwich requires said cheese to be melted and plentiful.

Vito’s is a simple counter-service deli operated by the Delaware North Companies that featured an unhappy employee at the register named Veronica.  As the time to order drew near, a customer three spaces ahead ordered a meatball sandwich.  One should always consider such an event a great twist of fate; a sort of ‘preview’ of your dining experience to come.  Just as Veronica asked, “Can I help you with something…?” the meatball sandwich was delivered to the gentleman at the front of the queue.  After one glance, he removed a large rope from his carry-on baggage, looped it over the fluorescent lamp above, hopped up on a table, and began tying a hangman’s knot.  Yes, it was that depressing… Anemic amounts of impossible-to-melt grated Parmesan cheese on dry meatballs with a par-baked roll.

After a 15 minutes of psyching myself out about meatball sandwiches I was determined to press forward and correct the issues I observed with the preview sandwich and get a properly executed Meatball sub.  The conversation that ensued went something like this:

“Meatball Sandwich, please!  Please toast the bread and add some extra sauce.  In addition, what kind of cheese is available?”

Veronica: “It comes with Mozzarella”

“Perfect! Extra Mozzarella please!”

V: “$9.50″

Sounds simple enough and the exchange was brief, to the point, and, yes, appropriate for an airport deli.  The sandwich was delivered in about 5 minutes swimming in sauce with a toasted roll, but alas, grated Parmesan cheese.

“Excuse me, may I have some mozzarella for this sandwich?”

V takes the sandwich and exclaims: “It’s on there, NEXT”

“No, no this is Parmesan, I need some Mozarella, you know, the kind that MELTS”

V: “It is mozzarella, and that’s all we have”

“This is definitely not mozzarella, it’s finely grated in a powder and not melting, you can’t even grate mozzarella like this!”

V raises her voice: “What is it you want from me?  What are you trying to get? you got what you asked for!”

“I just want some mozzarella for my sandwich; you know, a meatball sandwich with melted cheese! That’s why I asked you before I ordered what kind of cheese is on it.  This is NOT mozzarella, and if you want to continue to argue about it you can show me a package of it with the label on”

V: “Fine I will do that right now, SIR!”  She leaves the queue of about 10 people to go to the back room, rummages awhile, and returns, “There aren’t anymore boxes of it.  That cheese is all we use and it’s mozzarella so you’re not getting your money back”

“I don’t want my money back I want melted cheese on my damned sandwich” (Looked over to the Hispanic man preparing the dishes, currently prepping a personal pizza by adding shredded mozzarella cheese to a frozen and sauced crust).  “May I have some of that (Pointing) cheese in side cup so I can put it on my sandwich?”

V: “Sir, that cheese is for the pizzas, you can’t use it on your sandwich.  What’s the DIFFERENCE anyway? There’s cheese on it.”

Take a moment to let it all sink in.  If you are steaming at home, just imagine the Armageddon at the deli!  At this point, all control was lost and a yelling match ensued between me and Veronica.  Very rarely will a gentleman loose his cool in such situations so we can skip the unproductive pissing contest that developed.  I hastily read the sign on the register: “Did we forget to give you a receipt? Please call 1-800-xxx-xxxx.”  Quickly dialing the number on my BlackBerry, I made my way back to my assigned gate.  I left a message for the manager in charge of hospitality, calmly letting him know of the incident that occurred.  I did not ask for anything in return but left my phone number if he had any questions.  I recommended Veronica be fired.

Fast forward to Washington, DC two days later;  BlackBerry lights up with a suspicious area code.  Begrudgingly accepting the call, I was greeted by a cheerful “Steven*” from Fort Lauderdale Airport.  At this point I thought I had left a bag at the airport and had no idea what he could be calling about, but he set the record straight and began quizzing me on the incidents that transpired on that dreadful day.  I explained to him that one envisions and expects a meatball sandwich with melted gooey cheese, and painted a mental image for him of my choppers lacerating the crusty bread, seizing a large chunk of seasoned ground beef, lips pursing around the remaining strings of cheese that form upon the withdrawal of the delicious sandwich from my face now blotchy with fresh marinara sauce.  A fellow gentleman, Steven paused to reflect a moment, no doubt salivating at the mere thought of such a heavenly culinary experience.  He agreed with me about the cheese, informed me Veronica has been disciplined, and asked for my address.  One week later, a letter arrived:

A note from Steven offering sincere apologies for my terrible experience, $15 dollars in Chili’s currency, and a Postal Money Order for $10 to compensate me for my $9.50 Meatball Sandwich.

MELTDOWN TURNED TO MEMORY.

At FLL, this Delaware North has a captive audience.  The only alternative passengers have is to bring their own food.  Steven did not have to go the extra step to fix this problem, but he is no doubt passionate about what he does, and perhaps even a reader of this very blog.  I may not dine at Vito’s again, but I will definitely perpetuate this experience within the industry.

*All names have been changed.

The Coca-Cola Miscalculation

By miscalculation, we mean FAILURE.  Few products are capable of making the Exquisite Failures of all-time shortlist, but Coca-Cola’s “Dasani” product is definitely one of them.

Many have tried to provide elucidations as to the concept of “Bottled Water.”  Those of us who read Exquisite blogs, partake in gentlemenly activities like Squash, drinking, and general tomfoolery, dine on authentic cuisine, own a three-piece suit, and on more than one occasion have shared a bed with a woman whose net-worth is above 500k, can understand that bottled water is a necessity.  In any dining environment of true substance, one is given the opportunity to indulge in bottled or ‘iced’ water.  The word “Tap” should never be mentioned, as it guilts a guest into choosing the bottle option no matter what.  However, if the bottle option on hand is Dasani, always opt for tap.  Bottled water should be an escape from the city water that comes out of your home sinks; an on-the-go alternative to Brita or Pur water filtration; a handy method of carriage of H2O that can be quickly disposed of before the big meeting at work.  So the necessity of manufacturing water in a bottle is unquestionable; but could anyone simply bring a glass to their kitchen sink, fill it with water, cap it, and sell it?  Of course not.  There are a couple dynamics called taste and quality that actually matter.  Dasani, however, seems to be the exception to this rule.

PUBLIC WATER SOURCE

The above phrase is now listed on all bottles of Pepsi’s Aquafina brand.  Talk about corporate responsibility.  Dasani refuses to write any such thing, yet the contents of each tumid bottle is overloaded with briefly filtered water packed with chemicals and additives for safety.  We would argue that Dasani is known for its bad taste and pointless existence, yet it edges other bottled waters out in exclusive Coca-Cola contract locations and restaurants.  When it is the only water available at  your dining location, are you really going to complain?  Without fresh-brewed iced tea, we are forced to endure the gritty city taste of Dasani.

This picture sums up Dasani’s arete in the world of bottled water and consumer beverages:

Dasani

Complete MELTDOWN.

Don’t pay for public tap water in  a bottle, just turn on your sink and save your money.

The Cost of Sustainability

The eternally negative stigma surrounding “boxed wine” is enough to make any and all thirst for such libations cease without recourse.  The mere utterance of the word, “Franzia” can send epic repasts into a tailspin; completely ruining the libido inherent in the service of wine out of a bottle.  Imagine the surprise after ordering a bottle of Argentinian Malbec at Founding Farmers and having the following atrocity delivered to our table.

It is a juice box, essentially.  The only difference is this grape juice is fermented and aged.  I politely asked if the cardboard contraption came with sharpened straws for everyone to plunge forecefully into the side of the carton; reminiscent of my elementary days drinking Capri-Sun.  Needless to say, the answer to that question was a firm, “No,” accompanied by a canned spiel about sustainability and efficiency.

Our server stood behind the decision of Yellow + Blue Wines (y+b= green… pathetic) to use the Tetra Prisma Aseptic packaging from Tetra Pak International.  She claimed it was easier to store, lighter, and had a screw-top.  I quickly mentioned that the screw top is irrelevant (it is found on bottles and much more efficient anyway), and questioned whether the packaging has been tested for prolonged storage times.  It had, in fact been approved for up to three years of storage.  We then discussed various ways in which the restaurant was not being green by raising cows that produce methane, etc…

Throughout this entire ordeal the server could have pleased us with one simple fact:

The packaging holds 1 liter which is more wine than comes in a standard bottle.

Forget the organic grapes, a 50% reduction in its carbon footprint, and the fact that we were contributing to global hippydom… MORE WINE FOR THE MONEY.  This little boon will go down in our notebooks as a very fine “Memory.”

By the way, it tasted like a decent Malbec after it was given some time to open up.

The Exquisite Return

To quote the staff at Hummingbird to Mars; “Unfortunately, due to the rigors of our “day” jobs, (Exquisite Service) is going on (and has been on) hiatus…”

Sorry for the inconvenience folks, but other more important items have been afoot, preventing the staff here from updating at the guaranteed rate.  This blog will return to active status in November with plenty of the original stories and content you all crave.

For now, please satisfy your urges by submitting your own service stories to searchforservice@gmail.com.  We will relive those stories and post them right here come November.

Thanks for your support.

-C. W. Socha

Stress Stinks

Being considerate towards my opponents as I was gearing up for a rejuvenating game of Squash, I noticed that my antiperspirant applicator was running low on content, and made a note to myself to stop by a drug store at my earliest convenience. The last time I invested in this humanitarian commodity, the package was labeled as having a ‘BONUS! 20% MORE’. So this time, after working out the margins, I figured that I should continue with the same provider. To my surprise, this time the product was labeled as only having a 15% gain in capital, even though to the naked eye it was the exact same size as the previous version. Observe:

After close examination, it can be noticed that the first container is labeled ‘NET WT 3.2 OZ’, while the second is labeled ‘NET WT 2.7 OZ 3.1 OZ’ Crunching the numbers it turns out that 3.2 is an 18.5% increase from 2.7, and 3.1 is a 14.8% increase.

Did the gentlemen at Church and Dwight Co. realize that rounding up by such large amounts is only appropriate when tipping a waitress at Morton’s Steakhouse, or bragging about the size of a Marlin caught on this year’s annual fishing trip in The Keys? Regardless, they decided to decrease the contents by one tenth of an ounce and let the marketing department have a well deserved night of rest, not having to worry about a potential false advertisement lawsuit.

As for the avid Squash players, that tenth of an ounce could mean life or death when it comes to dominating the T on the court.

The Chinese Failure

Once a commanding idol of exactitude in order accuracy, take-out Chinese establishments across the nations have begun to go soft.

Here’s a humdinger that will have you unlatching those styrofoam containers to corroborate employee assertions of order effectiveness:

Panda Express is the culprit in this meltdown that had me reeling for hours on end.  Settling in for a night of glorious take-out of the finest Chinese quality, deeming it the most appropriate cuisine to enhance the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympic Games, I eagerly awaited my order of Kung Pao Chicken to arrive (someone else was picking up the food).  Little did I know that instead of delicious Chinese food, a catastrophe of the most epic proportions was in the making.  Observe below:

Now if you find yourself wondering why I only have a side of steamed white rice, and not the Kung Pao Chicken that was supposed to be my main entree,  then you must have the same mindset that I had when I was getting ready to indulge myself in pseudo-Chinese culture. Anyone who has ordered food at this establishment should know that the uncanny code on top of the styrofoam lid is meant to indicate to the next employee down the buffet line which entrees should go into this order. For example, C1 would be Orange Chicken and B5 would be Beijing Beef. In this case, C3 should register the third type of chicken the restaraunt offers, Kung Pao. In this situation, the employee must have been on a Huangjiu binge the day when they went over this concept at PEU.

A prompt telephone call to management resulted in an apology and an invitation to come back to the restaurant and have the faux pas corrected. However, as it would have taken over half an hour to drive there and back, I instead opted for a rain check, for I did not want to miss a moment of the $300M production.

It is understandable that customer service was not included in Project 119, but Panda Express should at least strive to pass the qualifying rounds.

The Tribeca Concept

Themed stores and Exquisite Service have always gone hand-in-hand.  J Crew’s decision to convert the old Liquor Store Bar in TriBeCa to a Men’s Shop looks like it’s going to pay off.

We cannot really deem this a “themed store” due to the fact that it was not designed from the ground up to be a retail location.  However, retaining the look and feel of the Liquor Store Bar (a frequented location among NY Gentlemen) whilst catering exclusively to men (a J Crew first) can be viewed as a leap of faith in the new trend of “Brandless Marketing.”

Walking along the outside (and even inside) of this store, one would be hard pressed to find any semblance of the J Crew brand.  The old Liquor Store signs remain intact while the windows are filled with fashionable apparel that cannot be found at any other store (most can’t even be found online).  The exclusivity and curiosity surrounding this outlet are sure to drive in the crowds.

If that isn’t enough, the amount of men’s fashion blogs that are going apeshit over this place will certainly be marketing enough.

Incomparable and Outstanding, we dare say this new store is… EXQUISITE.

See below for more:

PICTURES | A Continuous Lean

Location Info | J Crew

Articles | Bar Rags / Men.Style.com / Racked / Kempt / UrbanDaddy / The Cut

Bollocks

Most commercials that are banned from the airwaves are guaranteed to be great.  In this fantastic display of advertising, Volkswagon turns a simple reminder about fuel into a funny and cute display of child profanity.