I know I raved and raved about Zola in my previous review, but my most recent experience was strange.
More often than not, I'm the sort of person who knows what shit usually costs. I'm good at this game; like, REALLY good. Drive down the street with me and point out a house and I can give you a damn fine estimate.
So imagine my surprise when my husband and I hit up Zola on a muggy Saturday night:
We went to dinner and a movie at the Magic Lantern and decided to grab a drink after. Upon finding the Blind Buck's clientele to be ... to put it politely, not quite for us, we landed at Zola. We were carded and scouted around for seats first. I stood in line at the well for a solid ten minutes while one bar tender made half a dozen drinks for a single patron, and I didn't bat an eye. The bar was crowded and I am a reasonable person with generous reserves of patience. I'm not the girl who causes a scene .. I'm not even the girl who makes snide comments about the scenario passively to the people around me.
(I'm the girl who quietly waits her turn, treating servers with respect, and saying please and thank you while taking special care to make mental notes so I can outline my experience in a forthcoming yelp review...)
Here's the part that gets weird ... (this section doesn't take anything away from my rating and I don't fault Zola for this detail) Mead High School was celebrating a 20th reunion party across the street earlier that evening, and quite a few folks (I assume) from that event wanted to extend the party at Zola. Understandably so! It's cute and also a bar. At the same time! I KNOW! So, as I said, I was waiting in line to order our drinks when a man stumbled between myself and the guy waiting ahead of me. There was ample space to walk behind me, as I was the last person in the line and well over 15 feet away from the stage, but I had left a fair amount of distance between myself and the man in front of me, because I am not (always) a creepy neck-breather. (sometimes I am. It just feels right. I'm only human.) Well, this line-crossing man crossed my path and let his arm run the width of my body .. the top half! Yes! Smooth, right! Just left his arm raised, and ran his hand straight across my boobs on his way back to the table to sit with his date. Dude was hammered. I have tits .. I'm going to pretend that it was unintentional. Nonetheless, awkward and uncomfortable. (Tapping into my reserves of patience by now)
As a result of this, I was a little scrambled when I made it to the front of the line to order my drinks, I'll own that. However, something about the bartender's demeanor was odd. I can't really put my finger on anything that was out-and-out WRONG, but when I ordered our drinks (an Angry Orchard Cider and an orange creamsicle) the guy looked at me with disgust and made me repeat my order five (5!) more times while becoming more and more agitated as if I was wasting his time. I had already shouted my order across the bar to him so I still don't understand how I was unclear. He, then, rolls his eyes and walked away. (The aforementioned reserves of patience are accessed, yet again, at this point.)
I didn't react badly or say anything that could be construed as rude, so I'm not going to claim fault for his attitude when I was just trying to order some BASIC drinks after being felt up by a stranger while I waited in the slowest line of all time. He moseys back (Seriously. Take your time! I'm here all night if need be! Do whatever you need to do. I'm here for YOU.) from the back with a fresh bottle of Pinnacle Whipped Cream Vodka and set to work on the drink. Wasn't too taxing was it? Ice, vodka, splash of orange juice? Good job!
Back to the register to calculate the drinks ...
Here's a bill for $17
"Do you want to leave it open or close out?"
To recap:
A draft of Cider
An orange creamsicle cocktail
Standard $5 charge for the cider. $12 for the cocktail. Twelve. Dollars.
Please correct me if I'm wrong, but this seems exorbitant. Never would I have guessed that I would be paying almost $20 for a cider and a basic, elementary cocktail at Zola. We're not talking a decent glass of wine or a craft cocktail in Portland.. We're talking about an ORANGE CREAMSICLE AT ZOLA.
To be clear, I have NO problem ponying up when I see something I really want that is of good value. I will shell out $15 for a glass of wine in certain places and never bat an eye because it's what I want and I know it's going to be good. I'm not excessively frugal, but I do know the difference between cost and value. This was high cost and low value.
For a local business as established and well-versed in the routine of a summer Saturday, the whole evening was a disorganized mess.
I'm not the sort of person who stiffs a server on the tip either, but consider my previously-generous reserves of patience with Zola completely exhausted after my experience on Saturday night. So, no. I don't want to leave it open. read more