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Saturday evening I went to a local restaurant/bar/lounge well-known for it's as well jazz music on weekends as for its southern food. I've eaten there several times before (and drank & enjoyed the music there several more times) and always enjoyed myself.But the other night's visit was <span style="text-decoration: underline">terrible</span>!
We were seated shortly after arrival - despite not having reservations... because they know us. I appreciate that consideration. Mr Witchy and I made a last-minute decision to see if we could get in.
Half-way through supper, I had to use the ladies room. While I waited in line, I idly watched a busboy setting up a long table for a large party of about 16. This place rolls the silverware in the cloth napkin. The busboy dropped one roll and it hit the floor. <span style="font-style: italic">He then picked it up and placed it on the table and kept on setting the table!</span> Disgusted, I asked the woman in the line behind me to please hold my place, and I grabbed the head waiter.
"Dave! Where's your GM? I need to see him <span style="text-decoration: underline">right</span> <span style="text-decoration: underline">now</span>!"
"Well... I... I... Uh... Um... He... That is... Well... I can handle it... What do you need, Witchy?"
So I told him what had happened. The head waiter blanched and grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the table and asked me if I knew which silverware roll had falled to the floor. I reached and picked up the dirty roll and handed it to him. He asked me if I was absolutely certain, and I confirmed it. He thanked me.
"That busboy is new; it's his first night. I'll go talk to him now."
"Yeah, but Dave - you know you have to wipe down that entire table top, don't'cha?"
"Yeah. I'll have it done. That party's not here yet. Thanks again, Witchy! Jesus!"
I watched four more women leave the bathroom before it was my turn to use it. None looked upset or concerned. None asked for the manager.
I used the toilet. I went to the sink to wash my hands. <span style="font-style: italic">There was no soap!</span> Dear God!
I washed with hot water, dried with paper towels, and opened the door. I told the women waiting that the bathroom was "not usable", stood in the doorway to block it, and hollered at the top of my lungs for Dave, who was on the other side of the place.
"<span style="font-weight: bold">DAVE!! DAVE, COME HERE NOW!!!</span>"
Dave wheeled, stared at me for a second, and almost ran over.
"What?"
"There's no <fensored> soap in here, Dave!! Shall I use your shirt, or what?! I mean, COME ON!!"
He told me to wait a moment and he'd be back with soap. Five minutes went by. Six. Eight. No Dave. No soap. Finally, Dave returned to tell me that they had no more soap. He'd emptied out the men's room for us ladies to use, and I could wash my hands first, then the other ladies could use it, one by one. While I washed my hands in the men's room, I ranted at Dave, and he admitted the whole truth: There is no GM! The restaurant has had no GM for 2 1/2 months, now.
Now, I'm not dead sure... but I believe that it is illegal in NJ for a restaurant to be open without a trained general manager on the premises.
Here's the big question: <span style="font-weight: bold">What, if anything, should I do?</span>
I mean, obviously, I'm not gonna be eating there again.
But, do I report them to the City Board of Health Inspector, "V"? (whom I know)
Do I report them to the County Board of Health Inspector?
Do I report them to the State Board of Health Inspector?
Or do I just mind my own business and simply don't go back in there again?
What??
We were seated shortly after arrival - despite not having reservations... because they know us. I appreciate that consideration. Mr Witchy and I made a last-minute decision to see if we could get in.
Half-way through supper, I had to use the ladies room. While I waited in line, I idly watched a busboy setting up a long table for a large party of about 16. This place rolls the silverware in the cloth napkin. The busboy dropped one roll and it hit the floor. <span style="font-style: italic">He then picked it up and placed it on the table and kept on setting the table!</span> Disgusted, I asked the woman in the line behind me to please hold my place, and I grabbed the head waiter.
"Dave! Where's your GM? I need to see him <span style="text-decoration: underline">right</span> <span style="text-decoration: underline">now</span>!"
"Well... I... I... Uh... Um... He... That is... Well... I can handle it... What do you need, Witchy?"
So I told him what had happened. The head waiter blanched and grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the table and asked me if I knew which silverware roll had falled to the floor. I reached and picked up the dirty roll and handed it to him. He asked me if I was absolutely certain, and I confirmed it. He thanked me.
"That busboy is new; it's his first night. I'll go talk to him now."
"Yeah, but Dave - you know you have to wipe down that entire table top, don't'cha?"
"Yeah. I'll have it done. That party's not here yet. Thanks again, Witchy! Jesus!"
I watched four more women leave the bathroom before it was my turn to use it. None looked upset or concerned. None asked for the manager.
I used the toilet. I went to the sink to wash my hands. <span style="font-style: italic">There was no soap!</span> Dear God!
I washed with hot water, dried with paper towels, and opened the door. I told the women waiting that the bathroom was "not usable", stood in the doorway to block it, and hollered at the top of my lungs for Dave, who was on the other side of the place.
"<span style="font-weight: bold">DAVE!! DAVE, COME HERE NOW!!!</span>"
Dave wheeled, stared at me for a second, and almost ran over.
"What?"
"There's no <fensored> soap in here, Dave!! Shall I use your shirt, or what?! I mean, COME ON!!"
He told me to wait a moment and he'd be back with soap. Five minutes went by. Six. Eight. No Dave. No soap. Finally, Dave returned to tell me that they had no more soap. He'd emptied out the men's room for us ladies to use, and I could wash my hands first, then the other ladies could use it, one by one. While I washed my hands in the men's room, I ranted at Dave, and he admitted the whole truth: There is no GM! The restaurant has had no GM for 2 1/2 months, now.
Now, I'm not dead sure... but I believe that it is illegal in NJ for a restaurant to be open without a trained general manager on the premises.
Here's the big question: <span style="font-weight: bold">What, if anything, should I do?</span>
I mean, obviously, I'm not gonna be eating there again.
But, do I report them to the City Board of Health Inspector, "V"? (whom I know)
Do I report them to the County Board of Health Inspector?
Do I report them to the State Board of Health Inspector?
Or do I just mind my own business and simply don't go back in there again?
What??
.well dis one is a no brainer aint it...even if u naw nyam deh oddas will be...would u want to be one of the not-knowing had it been someone else who saw /experienced wat u did...dont really see where u dilemna lies...but dat is juss moi...
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