Over the past two months, friends and I have started frequenting Burrito Bar again once weekly, after taking a break for reasons outlined in my previous posts. We were definitely impressed with the makeover, and what seems to be a renewed commitment to all those elements that made Burrito Bar so magical for us so many years ago (I've attached my "Groupie Card" just to give you an idea of how long I've been patronizing this place.
Last night, we pulled up to the bar for an evening of what we thought would be good food, drinks, laughter and fun. It certainly started off well with a round of great margaritas and some nibbles. One member of our trio was running late, and as the bar filled up, I was worried someone would finally snag the barstool next to us (I don't believe in holding seats when an establishment is trying to make coin). Indeed, a gentleman asked to have it, and we happily obliged, because IT'S THE RIGHT THING TO DO. By the time our friend arrives, there's just one seat remaining at the opposite end of the bar (the one behind the host podium). Dying for a cigarette, we tell the newly arrived friend that we'll be back, and will ask if we can have the barstool to replace the one that was needed for the dining area. When asked, Javier, the manager, simply dismissed the request, and said no. Cool, as I though he knew something we didn't know. Anyhoo, outside smoking a cigarette, we noticed that he and staff were opening up the outside COVID hut for a party, going the extra mile to ensure their comfort, as a good manager and staff should. At the same time, we noticed from outside that the aforementioned stool was, indeed, vacant, and I said I'd ask again when inside. I asked Javier again, and with much snark, said "Yeah, you can get it." Now, here's where I don't come out smelling like roses, because my response was "Oh, you can't get it?" This response was for many reasons, and had nothing to do with me wanting to boss anyone around (it's not my style). A) Their lovely stools are solid iron, and a little heavy; B) While I can certainly carry the stool, we were on the opposite side of the bar next to the service bar. Out of RESPECT, I didn't want to go hauling chairs through the establishment, and it would have looked a whole lot better if an employee did it. I worked in countless restaurants, imbibed in even more, and I'm experienced enough to know that a GOOD MANAGER would have retrieved the stool for us; and C) I just watched you make magic happen by opening up a station that was previously closed, turning on lights and heat, hauling high-chairs outside, etc., but your response to me was "Nah, YOU can get it." Bet! I go get the barstool, and when I'm back, and call him a "smart ass," to which he replied "I know I'm a smart ass. That's why I'm the manager." Yelpers, I can't tell you how my blood began to boil. He subsequently accused me of being drunk, I had exactly two margaritas, a fiesta platter, and a side of fries (split among two). Now, you go from smart ass to ASSHOLE in my book. After a few choice words, things somewhat calmed down, and our third arrival had received his FIRST drink. Javier, the oh so professional manager, then appears behind me grabbing my shoulder while asking "You sure you're not drunk?" This was clearly done to antagonize me, and I responded with "Get your hands off me BEFORE I punch you in the face!" He then claimed that he asked because he wanted to buy me shot. Let it be known that I NEVER do shots, as I'm not in the business of getting drunk, and why would you want to ply someone with a shot that you had previously accused of being drunk? I told him I don't do shots, and I don't need him to buy me shit.
Things simmer back down, and I offer to buy a gentleman next to me a drink, and apologized for him having to experience the scene. He was understanding, and offered some sage advice; really tried to deescalate what was happening. Well, I never got a chance to buy him the drink, my friend didn't get a chance to drink his FIRST drink, and we were denied what would have been our third margarita, which is typically when I call it quits. Javier claimed that since I THREATENED TO PUNCH HIM, HE HAD TO CUT US OFF. This after HE PUT HIS HANDS ON ME. We left, but I was really offended and hurt. Honestly, the three of us had been so excited to add Burrito Bar back into our rotation of fun, then this happens. Javier is a young arrogant kat who has to learn to curb his visceral dismissiveness of some, and really ask himself where does that emanate from?
Lastly, the friend who never got a chance to have his FIRST drink paid the tab before I could intervene, and later told me that it included gratuity. We're all three great tippers, and gratuity NEVER bothers me, but I couldn't help but shake my head upon learning that. I hope someone above the MANAGER reads this. Cheers! read more