I am going to share an important secret here for all restaurant owners, that they might share in the riches to be found by plumbing the depths of common sense - service matters. I don't care if you offer a free self-serve salsa and queso bar, have decently priced drinks and good food. If you treat me shabbily, I will not think well of you. It is that simple.
I came to this Chuy's, in the thinks-it's-oh-so-hip So. 7 development, on a cold January lunch hour with some co-workers. I caught sight late of the "Free Valet" sign by the corner curbside, and as a result pulled up about 5-6' beyond the stand where the valet waited. Apparently he was unable to see beyond the zone directly in front of his stand, because we were ignored...pointedly....until we simply drove away to seek to park ourselves. There is some scant parking close to the restaurant, and we were lucky to find a space there. Those unlucky had to park in the dirt across the street and then try to cross at the light.
We came into the restaurant and gave our name to a young gentlemen working as a host at the front. We were told it was a 15 minute wait, but we decided it was too much trouble to go somewhere else. After about 10-12 minutes I went out to my car to get something, and when I came back the rest of my party was gone. I therefore approached the same young host I had spoken to earlier, and asked if my party had been seated. He looked up from whatever mundane task he was performing, and cast upon me a withering look of contempt I can only assume would normally be reserved by him for someone who criticized Lady Gaga in his presence. I was then informed by him that he "wouldn't know anything about that," at which point he went back to his mindless work. This confused me entirely, and I looked around in a dazed state wondering just who the heck WOULD know anything about that. A hostess then came up to the stand, so I asked her. She was quickly able to look at the wait list ON THE DESK RIGHT NEXT TO THE HOST, and determine both the fact that my party had been seated, and where. She then looked over at the young host and asked him to show me to where my party was seated. Again the withering look of contempt at me from the host (now apparently thinking that I don't find Adam Lambert entertaining), as he thrust his finger abruptly to his left and declared, "if you go around the corner they're in one of the rooms down there." He then washed his hands of any thought of me, and moved on to the more important things in his life, like dirty menus.
After setting out thereafter and finding my party, we ordered quickly. Our waiter was a breath of fresh air after my earlier treatment. Our order was taken quickly, and he remained attentive throughout our lunch. The food was quite good. I had the Elvis Green Chili Fried Chicken, which featured a tender chicken breast breaded in finely crushed potato chips and fried to a golden brown (DON'T JUDGE ME!! IT WAS DELISH!!). The rice was light, flavorful, and not as dry as many other tex-mex establishments. My party's only compliant was that the tea was a little weak.
But throughout my meal, I could not stop thinking about my treatment by the host. It made me more and more angry, until I remembered that I Yelp. So here is my story.
If you want to run a needle-sharp gauntlet of outright hostility on your way to a okay meal that you give someone money for, then by all means, go to the Chuy's on 7th St. in Fort Worth. If, however, you cling hopelessly to the inane conviction that you deserve to be treated like a human being when you offer to support someone's business by patronizing them in a down economy, then you would be well-served to: (1) see a psychiatrist; and (2) eat elsewhere. read more