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Friday, February 15, 2008 at 8:16 am
I’ll tell you a funny story. Last night I went to one of those restaurants that feast on the egos of the rich and famous. The room is often filled with people who you would probably know if you saw their faces on the front page of some tabloid or business publication. It’s amazing that there’s enough air to breathe in there, let alone eat, with so many great narcissists sucking the oxygen out of the atmosphere. The place is rather small, with a bar in one small entry room and a bigger room past the portal of glory. People enter, remove their coats, and are then ushered at varying rates of speed to their thrones. I arrived at 7:30 to meet my friends for an 8:00 PM reservation. We were to be a group of three and only one of them was there, my pal Dworkin. “I wonder if they could seat us a little early,” he said as we were finishing our drinks at about 7:45. I peered into the dining room, which was virtually empty. “Give it a try,” I said. He returned from his chat with the maitre d’. “He says they’re still setting it up,” he said. We ordered another drink. The bar was warm and cozy, filled with people drinking, eating at little tables that had no social cache, looking around to see if they could spot somebody famous going in to dine in the big room. We waited. People began to arrive for dinner. I saw Vreeland, who I know from the corporation, come in with a few pals, doff his outerwear with flamboyance, hug a bunch of people at the door, and breeze into the castle keep. Then a great captain of industry appeared, was greeted with quiet, discreet cries of pleasure by the staff, and was all-but carried in a divan to his position of honor immediately. We continued to hang out at the bar. I was okay about it. It was a scene. I melded into it. At 8:05, the dining room was still rather empty. I went to the maitre d’ and very politely asked if we could be seated now. He looked at me for a moment, making some inner calculation. I felt either under- or overdressed all of a sudden. “Your party is not complete yet,” he said. “Yes,” I said very politely. I hate jerks in restaurants who make a scene about things. “But my friend Vreeland just went in there and there are still several empty seats at his table.”"Oh!” said the maitre d’. “Mr. Vreeland! Well…” And then he smiled at me indulgently, as if to say, “Come along, my friend. You and a man of Mr. Vreeland’s standing should not be mentioned in the same breath.” I felt a little tickle of annoyance scratch at the back of my amour-propre. “Besides,” he added, not unkindly, “we’re just setting your table now. It should be a few minutes.” I thanked him humbly, backed off to the bar again, and stood there with my companion. There was nothing else to do. I generally don’t like to have six drinks before dinner so we just hung out. Glossy people continued to enter and receive a fine helmet-polishing followed by immediate conveyance to comfy seats in the sanctified enclosure within. My tickle was now and itch. I approached the maitre d’ again. “How about it,” I said. “Actually,” he replied, looking at his book carefully, “we’re still waiting for your table to finish dessert.” A little bolt of sulphuric acid shot from my stomach into the back of my throat. “I thought you were just finished setting it,” I said evenly. “Oh yes,” he said coldly. “We’re just finished setting it.” “Look,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “I’ve seen about two dozen people float by here and into the next room. It’s still half empty. I have just heard from our third party, who is stuck in a cab but will be here in minutes. Come on.” “I’m sure they’ll be finished with their desserts very soon,” said the maitre d’. At that point I uttered a short observation of no particular import, put on my hat and coat, and left the establishment. I was, in fact, simply too angry to stand there anymore. So I went outside and stood in the cold. It was nice out there. We’re all equal under that big black sky. About two minutes later, the door to the restaurant opened and Dworkin popped his head out. “They’re seating us now,” he said. I went in, said nothing to the maitre d’, and took off my coat. We were then hustled in to a very fine table, right next to General Pinochet’s. Perhaps it was not him. I heard he died. So maybe it was somebody else. “What happened?” I asked Dworkin. “The maitre d’ was very upset,” he said. “He said, ‘Is there a problem with the gentleman?” and I said, ‘Yeah, he’s not used to waiting for anything.’ And he said ‘Oh’ and told me to go get you.” Our other pal showed up a few minutes later and we had a very lovely dinner. What was clear to me was that 1) If I had not thrown a tantrum, we would not have have been seated until early March and 2) If I had not distinguished myself as an angry, over-sensitive, egotistical wheezebag, we would not have gotten such a good table, either. It was by demonstrating all the pushy, aggressive, ill-tempered and self-aggrandizing portions of my personality that I showed my qualification for proper treatment in that establishment. And that’s why jerks run the world. Amen. One day you’ll learn to stop worrying about whether you are a jerk or not, and just enjoy the results. It’s called Nietchien Nirvana. Posted By Allan, Orlando FL : February 15, 2008 11:27 am
The meek may one day inherit the earth, but they’ll never get a good table. Posted By Tom, Canyon Lake, CA : February 15, 2008 1:33 pm
I’ve often wondered why this is so – why jerks run the world, our government, my company. It’s all clear now. Retire…become a jerk. retire…become a jerk… Does anyone think a medium size non-publically held company would have less jerks? Posted By JHunter, East Northport,NY : February 15, 2008 2:02 pm
People act like jerks because they’re unhappy with themselves and therefore need a reminder that their special. When they win (get the nice table) or lose (have to wait) either way they remain unhappy. The point is to seek things that are truly rewarding which by it’s nature can’t be status-type stuff. Posted By Russ, State College PA : February 15, 2008 2:16 pm
Alas I am validated! In this crazy city of Los Angeles your are nothing unless you have had your picture on TMZ! Even in downtown LA where you use to be able to have a nice lunch once and awhile they look at you if you are speaking in tongues with you speak the simple words “two for lunch please”. What no reservation? What your party is not complete? And this is at low level establishments like California Pizza Kitchen. Another reason to drink in solitude and hone your cooking skills. Thanks for your humor Posted By Shelly from the Land of Oz (Los Angeles) : February 15, 2008 2:32 pm
And this is why I never eat out. I make all my own meals and eat them at home. I get to eat exactly what I want, when I want, and I always get the best location (right in front of my big screen TV). I don’t have to worry that anyone spit in my food (or did something worse) and I know exactly how many times it’s been dropped on the floor. Posted By David, Houston, TX : February 15, 2008 2:45 pm
Ewww! David. I never think about that stuff when I’m at a restaurant. Much. Posted By thebingblog : February 15, 2008 3:46 pm
This is the outcome of years of validating and celebrating jerks in the news, in publications, in organizations, and in government. Some old timer had it right, “the squeaking wheel (jerk) gets the grease.” Makes you want to avoid any event or public eatry that caters to narcissists i.e. jerks! Posted By B.Roy, Missoula,Montana : February 15, 2008 3:55 pm
Sir: You were sooo correct in acting the way you did. HOOOORAAH for the sane people. Posted By Tony, Brooklyn, NY : February 15, 2008 4:07 pm
Though I appreciate the story, I wish you had left for good – that restaurant didn’t deserve your money. Posted By M, New York, NY : February 15, 2008 5:00 pm
I live in a city of gasbags and, without knowing the name of the place, it is a snootery. The object of such places is to see and be seen. People who are more easily recognized (which could also be interpreted as “easier on the eyes”) jump to the head of the line and they get the window seats. That’s part of the entertainment value of such places. Unfortunately, such places sometimes have good or great food. (I say sometimes because I’ve eaten in a few snooteries where the chow was worse than expired Pork Patty MREs.) Your mistake may have been that you went there for the food, or that you forgot that you are the entertained and not the entertainment. In any case, as soon as you raised your profile by behaving like a gasbag, you got noticed and seated. This could just have easily gone the other way. People who deal with the gasbags are often wannabe gasbags. They like to flex their muscles. It makes them feel important. And when the wannabes feel important, the gasbags themselves go from being barrage balloons to the Grand Zeppelins. One last comment I have to make is that we must remember the Survivor Rules. Sure, a high profiles may get make you photogenic and get you onto the show, but when push comes to shove, it’s either the highest profile or the lowest profile that gets voted off of the island. Yeah, it’s a pain for those of us in the commonry. But in the end, you Posted By Ivan, Washington, DC : February 15, 2008 5:38 pm
Machiavelli was not the first to suggest that many people treat you better for treating them badly. Pity these poor neurotics, avoid them when convenient, and treat them only as badly as they demand when you must deal with them. That said, could you please send a copy of your article too every Democrat in DC? Posted By Janus Daniels, SLC, UT : February 15, 2008 5:50 pm
Jerks usually get what they want. It’s their little way of “working for it” or as a jerk might put it,”getting results”. Unfortunately they are still jerks. Posted By David, Tyler, TX : February 15, 2008 9:02 pm
I work in costumer service, and i avoid helping someone who acts like a jerk. I go out of my way to make sure kind people get great service! I would never reward bad behavior. Posted By AJ Miami, fl : February 16, 2008 12:33 am
In today’s world of equal rights and people exercising them, “chivalry” died with “Sir Galahad” and was reborn with the “ACLU”. Posted By Bob Shelby twp. Mi. : February 16, 2008 10:02 am
This begs the question, Posted By joe, upstate : February 16, 2008 10:57 am
That maitre d’ is on a power trip. Baad carma. Posted By At your service, Denny’s : February 16, 2008 11:44 am
I don’t understand; the service employee lied right to your face, so how are you the jerk? How is any of this a metaphor for success in business? Posted By Broadsword, Los Angeles : February 16, 2008 12:58 pm
I once lived in a place where on my morning jog, I frequently saw a pack of the local dogs that I referred to as the “dog society.” They hung around making a great ceremony of earnestly sniffing each other’s butt and validating their pecking order. I wish there was a Rockwell type painting of such a scene that could be given to such a gasbag emporium where it could be placed on the wall of the “Throne Room” to be observed by the human butt sniffers participating in their ritual. But a real gasbag, if he was serious about his title, would identify the most dominate other gasbag present, go over to his table, and urinate on his leg, or at least his table’s leg. Every condition should have its style. Posted By Nofoolhere, Johnstown, PA : February 16, 2008 1:14 pm
Ha! It is a war and the weapon you have is not leaving it is staying having a good time probably incurring the what $1200 dinner bill and leaving the five dollar tip with a note! You win and win with class. People like this understand a very short list of things and believe me money/dollars are high up on the list. Good luck and strike where it counts “nice people” do have an impact but do need to act. Posted By Mike, Minneapolis, Minnesota : February 16, 2008 1:33 pm
I became self-employed six years ago and I still work for a jerk. I just discovered your blog and love it. Thanks for doing it. Posted By Averyl, Portland, Maine : February 17, 2008 7:20 am
Actually I just don’t go to place like this. I absolutely hate them and the arrogance of it all. I would rather eat at waffle house. Posted By Suzanne, Cary, NC : February 17, 2008 2:47 pm
It was not being a jerk that finally got you in. It was being someone who was not willing to accept the BS that got you in. The people who rule the world are just like that – they get angry at nonsense, work to the nail, and fight when necessary to make changes that remove what they perceive as BS from their lives and everyone else’s lives. Posted By Gary, Chicago, IL : February 18, 2008 4:16 am
This is not the restaurant’s fault; its the fault of a material-obsessed society who idolize people who are undeserving. You should have left the restaurant never to return. Posted By Anonymous : February 18, 2008 4:27 am
Ah, but I had such a nice dinner! Posted By thebingblog : February 18, 2008 9:13 am
From the very start, if you slipped the maitre d’ a five, you might have avoided this and, saved a fortune on six drinks. Posted By tony new brunswick, nj : February 18, 2008 9:14 am
You’ll find higher class citizens at the Waffle House. If you’re south of the mason dixon line, of course. Posted By Billy Bob Johnson, Knoxville TN : February 18, 2008 11:54 am
Without knowing the exact content of you “short observation of no particular import”, one should have reservations in pegging you as a “jerk”. Posted By Ernestine Bass, Mentone, Alabama : February 18, 2008 5:51 pm
Dude, you got punked out. If I would have had six drinks in me, I would have walked to a table of my choice, sat down, and screamed out my order at the first server who walked by. You weren’t a jerk. You walked out of the place crying. You cowered away to the cold outdoors. Those people would have had to call the cops on me. When I want a seat and I see empty tables, I TAKE a seat. Be a man, Bing! Posted By Yadgyu, Harkeyville, TX : February 18, 2008 9:06 pm
Had to laugh.. it’s happened to me.. the best way to get seated though is, when they usher you into the bar to order high-priced watery drinks, just order ice water… They don’t want you taking up space if you’re not spending money!! Posted By Owen Des Moines, Iowa : February 20, 2008 9:59 am
Wouldn’t it have been great to say very loudly “listen you pissant, you aren’t qualified to shine my shoes, either seat us quickly or take this restaurant and shove it”. Probably would have gotten you no where but you would have felt better. Posted By Brian, Atlanta : February 21, 2008 5:07 pm
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Stanley Bing
Stanley Bing is a Fortune columnist and best-selling author of business books noted for their wisdom as well as their sharp, slightly acrid sense of humor. He is also the only writer on business and the workplace who still puts on a suit and tie and goes to do battle with the dragons that breathe fire at corporate America every day. This blog captures what remains of his brain after it has exploded in all other directions.
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Yeah. I know what you mean. My ex-boss was a big jerk to everyone in the office. He was notorious for it. But it served him well. He got a box of his favorite pens which the office manager of the firm quit ordering because they were too expensive. If his computer was on the fritz, IT would be in his office pronto fixing it. I, on the otherhand, always tried to treat everyone (from the secretaries to the guy who watered my plant) with the same respect. But I had to use the cheap pens that leaked and had to wait on hold with the help desk anytime I had computer problems. I started to think that maybe I should act like a jerk all the time and then maybe I’d start getting my way. In the end, I decided it just wasn’t my style to be a jerk, even if it served me well. I like to think that someday, somewhere, probably somewhere like the Pearly Gates, it will all work out in the end. I’ll be in the penthouse suite with silk sheets and air-conditioning. And he’ll be…well… somewhere else not as pleasant.