Clyde and I are sitting in our corner booth at Einstein’s. A server we’ve never seen approaches. She has a trainee in tow.
After introductions, the server asks, “What can I get you gentlemen to drink this evening?”
I draw a breath to reply.
“We have our four dollar beer specials, our five dollar drink specials, and our six dollar martini specials tonight.”
We both order unsweetened tea.
She hands us our menus. Before we can glance at them, she says. “And what will we be starting with tonight? Our delicious salt and pepper calamari, our house-made potato chips with melted blue cheese and chives, or our cornmeal dusted fried okra with a side of ranch?”
I glance at Clyde. He glances at me. We glance at the menus. I look up at the server. “We need a minute.”
Without a word, the server walks away. The trainee trails after her. After about five minutes, they return. “What appetizers did you gentlemen choose?”
I draw a breath. “Actually, I’m going right to dinner–“
“We have specials tonight,” our server says, interrupting. She proceeds to describe each one: meats, sauces, garnishes, sides.
“I just want three turkey tacos, please, as lettuce wraps.”
“Would you like to start with red pepper and tomato soup or a caesar salad?”
“No, just the tacos.”
“Would you like a side of our pepper jack grits or delicious crispy vidalia onion straws?”
“Um, no, thanks.”
Clyde orders a sandwich. He also resists the siren’s song of add ons and side items.
After our meal, the server reappears. “I’m sure you saved room for some mocha ice cream cake, Georgia peach pound cake, or white chocolate banana cream pie?”
“No, thanks. Just the check.”
“How about one of our after-dinner drinks? A raspberry truffle? A Bit o’Honey coffee?”
“Just the check, please.”
“Coffee? Espresso? An Irish coffee, perhaps?”
*Sigh*
I know that, by adding drinks, appetizers, side items, desserts, and coffees to the check, the restaurant earns more money and the server gets a higher tip. I know many people have trouble making decisions, and that presenting them with options (“Fries with that?”) often prompts them to simply say, “Yes.”
That said: I shouldn’t feel as though I’ve had to weave my way through a minefield of upsells just to snag a taco.
I’m a frequent diner at Einstein’s. I like the atmosphere. I enjoy the food. Lately, though, I find myself thinking, “Do I have the energy to deal with the barrage of upselling tonight, or do I want to go someplace where I can just relax?”
When things go this far … it’s time for the restaurant rethink that upselling strategy.
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