As I write this, I've just semi-enjoyed a lunch at, whatever this place is called. Oh, yeah, the Old Ship Saloon. Over on the corner of Battery and Pacific here in Downtown San Francisco.
At any rate, the service was semi-terrible. I felt rushed. A long time to be served, then served, then food taken away, then no one asking if I needed the other table for my computer (I did), then some lady I guess is the hostess comes over and grabs the set of salt, pepper, and augar that was at my table. And to do this, she has to reach across my body, which she does without saying "excuse me."
All for four patrons who didn't have a problem finding a seat. The place wasn't crowded. The lunchtime crowd left, and while there are people here, it's not anywhere close to jam-packed. But given that it' Friday, that could change around rush hour.
That written, the waiter is cool; he just seems like he's new to the job.
Oh, yes. I am writing this as I sit here.
You'd think business people would get the idea that it's good to make sure all of your patrons are treated properly. Not just some of them. And never trade off one for the other.
Ok. That's why I go to the Royal Exchange. In the 15 years (or more) I've visited that place on the corner of Sacramento and Front Street never had a bad moment. Not only that, the Royal Sex-change, as it's called, was the home of some of this bachelor's finest moments.
Without going into detail, well, hell, why not a little, huh?
There was the female sales exec who said she could hold me up by the ankles. And so, she took me down to the women' bathroom and, well, she did just that. (And she did a lot more after that. One strong woman. I like that.)
I can say I know what the World looks like from upside down, hung by a beautiful woman, in the women's bathroom at the Royal Exchange in downtown San Francisco.
I can't say I can see that ever happening at the Old Ship's Saloon, but I'm just smarting because the service is subpar. Ok. It's not happy hour.
Stay tuned.
No comments:
Post a Comment