Everyone Matters Here
It’s a few minutes before eight o’clock on Saturday night, and the second seating is about to begin. As I survey the dining room from my post behind the podium, I watch servers move quickly to pick up paid checks, clear dessert plates, and leave subtle hints that it’s time for their guests to enjoy the rest of their evening somewhere else. The bar is three-deep with people waiting for their 8:00 tables. The mood is festive, but I know it can turn at any moment. I know the pattern because this is the hundredth time I have been here, in this exact situation. It’s both daunting and reassuring. Daunting because if things don’t go perfectly, we disappoint people who booked weeks in advance. Reassuring because it always works out. Somehow.
I’ve saved a few tables that have been requested by regular guests, which means that those tables will sit empty until those regulars arrive. At exactly 8:00, guests start approaching me to ask when they can get seated.
“I see an empty table there. Can I have it?”
This is the dance. How much do I share? How do I walk the line between taking care of regular guests and making first-timers feel like they are part of a club? This is why I love this job. It’s fun every time.
A group of three women arrives, laughing and excitedly talking as they walk through the front door in high heels and brightly colored dresses. They gaze at the ceiling, the bar, and the flower arrangements like kids seeing Disney World’s Cinderella Castle for the first time. It’s a look of sheer delight.
“Welcome, it’s so great to see you!”, I dramatically exclaim as I stand with open arms.
One of them looks over her shoulder in disbelief, to see if I am talking to someone behind her.
“We came to New York City from Kansas City to celebrate her 40th birthday, and this is our first time. We booked this reservation exactly 28 days ago because you wouldn’t take a reservation farther in advance.”
What these women don’t know is that I have been waiting for them. In fact, I didn’t know I had been waiting for them. Until that moment. I make a split-second decision.
“Well, welcome to Union Square Cafe. We’ve been waiting for you.”
…
At lunch, I could recognize regulars before they reached the door. I knew their favorite tables, and their personal preferences. At Union Square Cafe, regulars made up nearly three-quarters of the room on any given day. They came back because of that recognition. Danny Meyer understood this early, and he attracted a loyal following of neighborhood fans. As a team, we understood the importance of delivering a personalized experience every day.
When I became a maître d', I discovered that, no matter where a guest came from or how many times they had dined with us, they all wanted the same thing:
They wanted to matter.
I learned early on that building genuine relationships with customers is the most sustainable and effective way to make them feel good and to grow the business.
Dinner was different. Dinner service attracted more first-timers and tourists than lunch, which meant we could have more fun at dinnertime. Dinner service was the perfect opportunity to build new relationships, cultivate new guests, and create new memories. Our lunchtime regulars were accustomed to being part of the club. It was easier to exceed the expectations of most dinner guests. And we had a process to do just that.
…
As I stand at the podium with the three women, I quickly glance at the dining room and can see it’s ready. Tables are set, silverware is re-stocked, and water pitchers are full. The guests at the bar are engaged in lively conversations.
“Wow, this place is busy!” says one of the ladies. “When will we be seated for our reservation?”
“How about right now?” I reply.
“I’ve saved a couple of options for you. Would you prefer something in the heart of the action, or something a little quieter?”
“Wait, why are you being so nice?”
“We’re nice to everyone here.”
Cultivating new regulars and getting the word out about your business is as important as keeping existing ones. Too many businesses get this wrong. They make a lot of effort to attract new customers with promotions and ads on social media, but they don’t know what to do once those customers walk through the door.
Like our regulars, new customers want to matter. And the person who greets those first-timers needs to understand the importance of their role.
In my time as a maître d’, we always held back one table for first-timers or tourists. New Yorkers are more accustomed to making special requests, but some people from out of town may feel like they are being pushy by asking for a private table or mentioning that it’s a celebration. In fact, the Kansas City trio had no notes next to their reservation, so there was no way to know it was a special occasion. When they walked in and told me their story, I decided then to offer them the table I had saved.
It cost us nothing, and they were immediately swept away by our hospitality. I told the server about the birthday, and the team took incredible care of them. And we didn’t need to give anything away to make them feel great. Yes, we did write “Happy Birthday” on their dessert plate and put a candle in their banana tart, but that’s it. It was more important for us to connect with them on a human level. It wasn’t about giving them free stuff.
As the women were leaving after their meal, they hugged their server, the host, and me. They thanked us all for taking such great care of them and said they would tell their friends back home how great we were.
Nights like that are why I loved that job. The guests felt seen; the business gained new fans; and the people who made it happen felt like they did something meaningful.
What’s your version of the Kansas City trio? I want to hear a story from you in the comments.
Until next time, make it a great shift.
