Words like "bad service" and "unprofessionalism" come to mind; however, they do not begin to scratch the surface of my first and last encounter with the Pourhouse. Instead, let me take you on a literary journey through the Seven Layers of Hell that are known as the Pourhouse.
I was part of a group of ten co-workers, bright-eyed and excited upon entering, all of us smitten by its lively atmosphere. Alas, we were unknowingly falling prey to the evil torment that would soon consume us all.
Our friendly server arrived. We ordered soft drinks and waters and the beginnings of a wonderful lunch were underway. We discussed this being our new "Happy Hour" spot. Nothing could crush the love we felt for this new gem of an establishment.
Several minutes later our server returned and took our food orders. The server neglected to ask if anyone would like a refill on beverage, but we paid no attention as it was minimal and in no way could have impacted the lovely time we were having conversing.
Then time seemed to span. We began to enter early stages of starvation as our stomachs began to devour themselves. We realized it had been an hour since our order was taken. We were delirious with food deprivation, and too parched from lack of beverage refills to call out for help. We frantically began swiveling our heads around, searching for our server. She later arrives, one and a half hours we are into this venture, but much more time was to be vacuumed up by the Pourhouse. Our server proclaimed that the kitchen lost our order, and she was going to need to retake our entire order... how embarrassing she said.
We were promised our food would be rushed through the kitchen, requiring we only wait another ten minutes more. Unfortunately, working professionals do not always have an afternoon to invest into lunch, so two of our comrades had to fall off. The manager arrives on the heels of the server, explaining that they were sorry for the mistake and the food would be "on the house". The gesture was great, and was fair compensation for those who remained, had we only been given a refill on beverage.
Ten minutes pass. Our server is walking the room but avoids our table. We were being avoided due to the embarrassment our server must have felt for dropping the ball on our lunch experience. We still did not complain. We clung to the hope that the promises made to us would come to fruition. A beverage would have been nice.
After another half hour has passed, the lunch rush was nearly over, and finally plate by plate, food began to arrive. Was it delivered with an apology, a statement of empathy, a little gratitude for staying through such an ordeal? None of the above. Plates were plopped down on the table in any open spot, while we were made to pass them to the appropriate party who ordered, and then re-ordered, them.
Two more of our companions had to leave this endeavor to return to work, and were only able to scarf down a couple bites. Get a to-go box you ask? We tried to make the request, but no one could seem to see our invisible table... Now there were six.
Of our battered and beaten group of six, five have now received their food. One hundred percent of those five received inaccurate orders. Over two hours have passed. And I alone lay starving. I did not feel anger, though, as I contemplated what was worse? Having no food, or having the food I'm listening to my party struggle through and force to swallow. To say the meals they waited so patiently for were sub-adequate would be giving the Pourhouse credit.
After much hesitation, I made a last ditch attempt to flag our server down yet again, and she admitted that, again, she forgot my order. I asked if I could please just have it in a box. Again I was only fed promises as I waited another half hour with no food ever to show and no revisit from any attendee, server, or manager.
Nearly three hours vested, my food never did arrive, nor did anyone ever return to our table. All our promises were left unfilled. Those that remained through the whole ordeal declared this, without a doubt, the worst experience of any of us.
- A situation like this, my hope, is a fluke for the Pourhouse. Flukes happen. Dealing with the flukes with grace and class is what separates fine establishments from Pourhouse. To come to the table, apologize and then provide great service moving forward would have gone a long way. Making good on promises would have appeased us as well. Hell, toss us a drink coupon in lieu of never receiving food. Any of these remedies would have made any reasonable patron satisfied and perhaps could have even turned into a few laughs at the predicament.
Instead, the Pourhouse ignored us until we had no option but to leave. To us, it was not worth getting angry, as it would not have fed us anyway. Besides, what is the recourse when your first order becomes free and then your free order never shows up ... ?
I guess a post on Yelp. read more