Monday, April 29, 2013

Aramark, Citi Field, The Mets, Danny Meyer and Kiss My Ass

Is there anything worse than "your" team (I'm talking the Mets here) losing, at home, to those powder-puff blue dandies, the L. A. Dodgers?  I mean, especially when you trudge all the way out to Shea Stadium Citi Field, on the god-forsaken 7 train, in weather more suited for football.  A game in which "our" number 2 starter was knocked out after taking a line-drive off of his lower leg.  A game in which the "paid attendance" (which is the way the home team lies as to how many people are actually at the park) was over 21,000, but if there were more than 10,000 people in the park, we'd have been surprised.

Well yes, there is - and here's why - it's how "they" treat you at the stadium. No, not how the Mets treat you (we already know how bad that's gonna be), but how the organization (Aramark) running the rip-off concessions treats you.  Early in the game, my friend (the Dodger fan) and I headed to one of the fancy-schmancy bars that people sitting in the expensive seats get to go to. I think it was the Delta Club, or some bullshit like that.  Anyway, after sitting there for 15 minutes and not even getting someone behind the bar to say hello to us, I was starting to get aggravated and do things I don't do at a bar - like hold up a $20 bill so one of the schmucks would come over.  We finally got served our $9 one ounce Jim Beam pours, and boy were they worth the wait. Oh - here's a tip - sneak in a couple of minis (you know - airplane bottle booze) and just refill your glass; they're giving you plenty of ice.

We took a nice, long walk around the stadium to digest our booze, and there are food options aplenty.  Lots of Danny Meyer: Shake Shack!  Blue Smoke!  Plenty of Pat LaFreida, too!  You can't miss it...

We ended up getting none of those, as we had a game to get back to, and I had a bag of peanuts, which are one of the fun things to eat at a ballgame; after all, you just throw the shells all over the place, so what could be bad?  By the sixth inning, we decided to head back to the Delta club; after all, we were practically regulars, right?

Here's what greeted us when we sat down...
Yes, that's a disgusting bar-top with water and left over detritus from whatever previously unlucky patrons might've been sitting there.  15 minutes passed (of course) and I once again waved a bill in the air; this time, when one of the schmucks came over, I suggested that perhaps he might use a bar rag and wipe the bar before serving us.  At that point, I received a look of disdain - how could I suggest such a thing?  Oh - I just love being called "boss," by some 2-bit bartender that wouldn't know a Manhattan from a Martini, but that's another rant.

Also, we ordered some food from someone who looked like they might be a food order taker/deliverer.  I mean, she took my order and took my credit card and had no problem with my 32% tip. Check that - small problem - never got my Danny Meyer Shake Shack food.  So I called over a manager who explained that they were very busy (HAH!), apologized profusely and said to make sure I get in touch the next time I'm at Citi so they could "take care of me."

We all know the Danny Meyer service model - I mean, the guy wrote a book called Setting the Table: The Transforming Power of Hospitality in Business.  And I know he doesn't run the show at Citi - but he does have his good name associated with some of the food being served. So Danny - get yourself out to Citi and see how they do by you.

And to Aramark. Citi Field. The Mets.  You can all kiss my ass. My next game is gonna be at a classy operation - Yankee Stadium, here I come.

3 comments:

  1. People should pay you for the idea of sneaking in mini-bottles. I've done it on airplanes, but never in stadiums (or at least not since college).

    Sometimes, you just gotta let it fly, y'know? Nice rant, sir.

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  2. Yipes, sounds like you had a good time :)

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  3. That's what I like, a bitchin' Mitch! Nobody can say it better and more to the point. Back in the saddle mister. Keep the bitchin' twitchin'!

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