America Scares Me: Why I Don't Go Out Much

I have been traveling on business in a part of America people do not visit on vacation.  There, hotel promises of free high-speed wireless Internet access are not always kept and there is not even soft-core porn on the in-room video system.  All roads are eight lanes wide and Post-Modern architecture is not dead.  Also, there is a restaurant chain called "Max & Erma's." 

I admit to being a snob and I admit to being isolated from suburban mall culture as a result.  But this particular "dining experience" was a nightmare of scripted joviality and only-slightly-camouflaged up-selling.  Is this really what most people endure when they go out for a nice meal?

Our server, Chas, was stoned out of his skull, at least if the whites of his eyes were any indication.  A recent high school graduate with vertically gelled hair, he spoke to us as if he had spent his youth in the restaurant world's equivalent of a Red Chinese re-education camp.  He smiled vacantly and spoke in a monotone, looking over our heads and concentrating like a kid struggling for a word in a spelling bee. 

He asked if it was our first time at Max & Erma's. Naif that I am, I said yes.  I should have known that that would mark me as that most prized of creatures, The New Customer.  It instantly became the job of Chas not just to serve my meal, but to convert me into a Repeat Customer.

To that end, Chas launched into an explanation of the menu that apparently presupposed I couldn't read it myself.  He recited lines from a memorized marketing brochure, drilled into him at off-hours training sessions, that informed me, among other things, that Max & Erma's has good hamburgers.

Now, being American, I assume that every restaurant surrounded by adequate parking has good hamburgers.  Whether those burgers come wrapped in wax paper or dressed up like a New Orleans hooker in garnishes and proprietary sauces, burgers are basic.  (Or should be.  I once confronted a hamburger with a sliced radish next to it.  Do people put sliced radishes on their hamburgers, or was someone in "presentation" just looking for a point of product differentiation?)  You can't survive in the restaurant business in this country unless you've got a decent burger, the same way you couldn't have a restaurant in Tokyo if you couldn't make rice.  I don't need a little speech to tell me that.

Over the course of the meal, Chas dropped by our table regularly, as if controlled by some internal clock that had no relation to where we were in the course of our meal.  Under the guise of providing service, he'd stop by and recite a little marketing message.  As I was eating my salad, he brought me, the Max & Erma's virgin, a tasty sample of the restaurant's "signature" (and no doubt high margin) tortilla soup.  (Why did this remind me of a heroin dealer offering the first taste for free?)  Between salad and burger, he interrupted our conversation to explain to me that Max & Irma's is famous for it's chocolate chip cookie dessert, and to remind us that if we wanted cookies we should order them soon "because they take some time to bake fresh."  As opposed, I guess, to baking them stale. 

And when those of us at the table were engaged in a raucous post-meal conversation, he refilled my iced tea glass and, instead of leaving quietly so not to interrupt us, asked how everything was and invited us to look at a dessert menu.

I do not, as you can probably tell, frequent chain "concepts," which is what people in the franchise business call restaurants.  All the same, I was stunned by how marketing-intensive the meal was. 

I used to produce television and radio commercials for a restaurant chain, and I know that the executives of that chain considered per-ticket revenue a key performance metric.  They were always trying to figure out a way to get the same number of people to spend more money.  The result of that kind of thinking is that Max & Erma's and, I assume, lots of other "concepts" are destroying the dining experience. 

As we were getting ready to leave, the manager of Max & Erma's appeared by horrifying surprise over my left shoulder.  Suddenly, as I slipped my jacket on, she was there, inches away, in a spooky re-creation of conversational intimacy.  She was harried after a busy lunch hour, but did her best to smile at me artificially, maybe even seductively.  She pushed her ample bosom against my side and thanked me for trying the restaurant.  And then, as if slipping me her phone number, handed me a $5 "gift certificate" which was really a coupon for $5 off my next $30 ticket (not including alcoholic beverages).  She wanted, she said, to personally invite me back.  She looked forward to seeing me again.

Look, I know I'm a middle aged man and middle aged men are stupid, especially when a woman pushes her breasts into the sides of our arms, but I'm not that stupid. 

I gave the coupon to an admin back at the office I was visiting.  She looked down at it as if I handed her a two ounce diamond and thanked me profusely.

"I love Max & Irma's," she said.  "Have you tried their tortilla soup?"

Comments

[Pursuit]

My sympathies Tom. I recently had the unfortunate experience to visti Applebees. Think M&E without all that wonderful tortila soup.

[michelle]

Too funny. I am a total restaurant snob. I'd rather go out for a $150 meal (including good wine & dessert) once a week (and eat mac & cheese at home) than go out 5 x $30 or even 3 x $50 meals.

Fortunately for me Boulder is a quiet gourmet restaurant mecca. In fact, we have one of the highest restaurant per capita ratios in the US. And I absolutely will NOT eat anywhere with an all you can devour salad bar or a place that touts its best dessert being a choco chip cookie!

[michelle]

Also, I'll even ask a waiter to buzz off by saying "WE'RE FINE!!!"

[yankeegirl]

Yes, I have the dubious honor of living in Max & Erma's headquarters city. I know people who would cut your throat for that soup, lol.