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Bonehead Managers
Spend any length of time as a server in a restaurant and you're sure to discover a phenomenon I call 'Managerial Logic'. This peculiar mode of thinking seems to exist well outside the boundaries of conventional problem solving. Managerial Logic is caused, in all likelihood, by the bestowing of too much power on too small a brain--one that is permanently atrophied by long hours, rich food and a tiny little salary. Whatever the cause, Managerial Logic leads to Managerial Decisions and these can have truly disastrous results. Ask any server. Allow me to offer but one example. I worked for some time with an Italian low-level manager I will call Sergei. Nothing about Sergei made sense. He worked at a nice Italian restaurant, yet his favorite eatery was Goofy's Kitchen in Disneyland. He claimed to be Italian, yet his accent sounded suspiciously Eastern European. He wore Donald Duck ties to work. He claimed to be a computer engineer by trade, but couldn't figure out how to delete a house salad from a check. Above all, his "executive" decisions on the floor defied conventional logic. In short, he relied on Managerial Logic. It was a frantic Valentine's Day dinner. One of the most recent Managerial Decisions had dictated that all servers would only have four table stations in order to "improve the quality of service." Fine. I was yawning through my four table shift when I noticed that, Susie, the server next to me was buried so deep she couldn't breathe. The reason for this was that, in order to shove as many tables as possible into the restaurant, Sergei had broken up Susie's four four-tops to make eight deuces. All eight were seated with separate parties and Susie was losing her mind. "Why don't I take a couple of Susie's tables?" I asked Sergei. "That way, we'll both have six tables and she'll be able to give better service." "No, no," Sergei said. "Only four tables each." "But she's got eight! Can't you see how buried she is?" "No, no, Susie only has four tables, just like you." "It might have started as a four table station, but you broke them up," I countered. "She's waiting on eight tables. Eight. Count 'em." Sergei insisted that there were only four tables in Susie's section while she sweated and drowned. He still insisted while he comped several dishes for Susie's dissatisfied customers. And of course, he continued to insist later while, he wrote me up for insubordination. "Refused to listen to Manager," he wrote in barely legible script. It was the night eight became four. Managerial Logic at its finest. --Debra Ginsberg |
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