A Comedy of Errors

Maura and I went to Ted’s Montana Grill last night, hoping to have some delicious bison for our final meal of the weekend. While Ted’s is not nearly as authentic Montana as they claim (for example, all the avocados would be a little too Californicated for Treasure State natives), it’s still one of my favorite places to get a burger.

We arrived at the Brookwood location a little after 7 and were seated outside on the little porch overlooking Peachtree Street and the big bison statue out front. I was a tad concerned about how things would be working that evening when we were told to sit anywhere. However, Will came out to take excellent care of us (and take our drink orders), so my concerns were briefly assuaged.

Until a few minutes later, when John came out to let us know that he would be our server this evening. "You, too," I asked, assuming that Will was already taking excellent care of us. So, John scurried off, thinking the situation was under control. A few minutes later, our tomato salads came out which was another harbinger of a lovely evening to come, as we had so far only ordered drinks.

Soon, we were greeted by our new friend Robert, who informed us that he would be our server this evening. "You, too," I asked, still under the illusion that Will would be taking excellent care of us. And just a minute after Will brought us our drinks, Robert came out to let us know that he’d be our server now and finally took our orders. A burger and a house salad, each. A few minutes later the manager came out, and we all laughed about how everyone wanted to serve us.

Half an hour wore on, and while the runner from the kitchen kept bringing dishes to us that were destined for other tables, there was nary a house salad in sight, let alone a meal. Finally, the manager came out again to apologize profusely for the delays and confusion, let us know that our dinner was on its way out, and that she would be comping our meals and have some dessert on the house. A perfectly satisfactory resolution to a bit of confusion.

Minues later, the runner came out again.

"Who had the veggie platter?"

"We didn’t order a veggie platter."

He apologized and walked over and asked Will, who should have been taking excellent care of us, and then walked back and said, "He said you ordered the vegetable platter."

Well, if Will said so… We sent the vegetable platter back, and a moment later, our dear friend Robert came back because he had to take our orders again. I imagine that was the last order Robert took for Mr. Turner’s fine dining establishment.

It wasn’t long before our burgers finally came out. Except, these were not the burgers we were looking for and we had to send another set of plates back. Finally, the manager came out along with the correct burgers. She begged us to please try Ted’s again and gave us a $20 gift card as hush money. (Though, honestly, I think we should have gotten at least $50 to cover another whole meal for two.) We asked to be moved inside, since it had gotten dark in the ensuing hour and a half since we ordered, were assigned our own personal wait staff for the remainder of our stay, and did take advantage of that free dessert.

Now, to be fair, I’ve been to Ted’s many times before and have had nothing but top notch service. I’m sure if they had let Will take excellent care of us, nothing blogworthy would have occurred then. I’ll probably be back, because this was just too much of a fluke to be indicative of anything. But if this had been my first trip to Ted’s, it most certainly would have been my last.

And we never did get those salads.

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1 Comment

You should have told them that they’re lucky that they really AREN’T in Montana because real cowboys don’t tolerate incompetence and out West there’s a little thing called Vigilante justice. Robert might have gotten more than just a pink slip on the Flying D.

Cristin | 10.4.06 | 1pm

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