Red Robin - Strike One!

With our self-imposed Three Strike Rule for restaurants in mind, Red Robin has two strikes left.

I visited the Red Robin in Turlock, California last Saturday (April 28th). Having never been there before, I thought it was time to try one of my daughter’s favorite casual dining places. Simply put: “Great burgers - Bad everything else!”

Yours truly wandered into this Seattle-based national chain restaurant with high hopes of grabbing a quick burger. It was a solo experience, I was in the middle of some Saturday afternoon errands for my job. At 2:00, Red Robin was not particularly busy, it was less than half full and business was steady. This particular RR is located right off Highway 99 and is part of a huge, relatively new, outside shopping complex with hundreds of major brand stores nearby. I was hungry and had only 30 minutes or so to spare.

Red Robin is big...bigger than an Applebees or Chilis. The setup in very open and airy with a long showcase style kitchen area on one side. Upon entering, I was overwhelmed by the noise. Just inside the entry are several video games. A flock of about 7 or 8 kids (10 year olds) were playing the games, screaming out loud, and bolting back and forth through the lobby and bar to get more money from their parents seated somewhere in the bowels of the dining room. The smiling hostess greeted me immediately. I asked for a table (not in the middle) somewhere “quiet”. She kind of chuckled about the request for a quiet table. I then suggested the nearby bar area, gesturing to the first booth near the lobby. The bar is a small island thing with a few tables and a bar top.

She sat me at the requested table, handed me a menu, then asked me if I wanted some french fries. “Well, thanks...but not right away”. Apparently, one of Red Robin’s gimmicks is the “bottomless french fry basket”...they push fries on you from the gitgo! From this point on, things fell apart.

A few minutes later, I was approached by a sour-faced young female server. Her facial expression wreaked of “I hate being here on a Saturday afternoon. I’d rather be at the mall with my friends. In fact, I hate working here period!” She didn’t say that, but she did say (in her best corporate restaurant training monotone), “Hi, welcome to Red Robin. Can I get you a beverage and some french fries?” I answered, “No fries yet, but I will take a Diet Coke and this Whiskey River BBQ Burger. I’m kind of in a hurray.” “How would you like that cooked”, she blurted back, “pink or no pink inside?” “No pink, please”, I responded. “I’ll get that going for you”, she assured me. Then, she sidled away for a few minutes, returned with my Diet Coke, and left without saying anything. The video game kids continued to scream and run back and forth for more money, through the bar and right by my table. The time was 2:03 pm.

During the next 30 minutes, I had the opportunity to look over the menu, observe what was going on, and wonder where in the hell was my food? Yes, I said 30 minutes! Somewhere around the 20 minute mark, my sour-faced server approached within 10 feet of my table, extended a puzzled look in my direction, then shuffled her way to the open kitchen area. I watched her speak to the line cooks for a few seconds, then run down to the nearest computer terminal and punch something into the touch screen menu. She returned to my table and said, “Sorry, your order will be right out. Would you like some french fries in the meantime?” I politely refused the offer (again).

I sat there for another 10 minutes or so watching the gum-chewing hostesses chat amongst themselves, greet and seat the occasional customer, check their cell phones every 5 minutes, lean on the hostess stand, and look bored. Then, at 2:33...my long-awaited food arrived, placed in front of me by the sour-faced server, “Would you like some more Diet Coke?” Since my glass was still full to the brim, I politely refused and dove into the burger basket. Yes, I said basket. Here is this huge, well constructed wax paper-wrapped burger sitting in a tiny, red, plastic basket. The burger was so big, and the basket was so small, it appeared that I hadn’t received any french fries. Upon further observation, I found the fries under the burger. Pardon me, but if I am going to pay $8.99 for a burger and $2.50 for a Coke, I would like my food on a frickin’ plate! And, where in the heck is the Ranch dressing I requested? I flagged a gum-chewing hostess and reminded her I asked for the Ranch. The sour-faced server returned with said condiment a minute or so later.

At this point in time, I needed to be on my way...I only had 30 minutes or so between appointments. This gave me time for a couple of bites of my Red Robin Whiskey River BBQ Burger, which, by the way, had too much BBQ sauce on it. I had requested “please go easy on the BBQ sauce”. It was a nice burger. Big, juicy, neatly compiled, and tasty...what I had of it.

Just then, a young, little, male, manager-looking person sidled up to my table. And with a smile said, “How is everything today? Can I get you some more fries?” “Well”, I began, “this is a great burger. Are you the manager?” “Yes, I am”, he responded. Then, I began my dog and pony show, very deliberately and respectfully...

Me: This is my first visit to a Red Robin. Good burger! But, is it the “norm” for it to take 30 minutes to get my food?
Manager: Why, no! (a look of shock and concern on his face) It should only take maybe 9 to 12 minutes.
Me: Well, it took 30 minutes.
Manager: I’m so sorry, that’s not normal. Would you like some more fries?
Me: No, thanks. I am out of time. I need to go. Red Robin is one of my daughter’s favorite places in Seattle. I thought I should give it a try.
Manager: Oh, that’s where we started Red Robin.
Me: That’s great. But, I really need my check...gotta get going.
Manager: I’ll get it for you.

(A couple of minutes went by and he returned with my check in a plastic check presenter. He had taken off the price of the burger, leaving the cost of the Coke plus tax...$2.67.)

Me: You didn’t have to do that. I wasn’t looking for free food.
Manager: Not a problem. My pleasure. Again, I’m sorry for the wait. Are you sure you don’t want more french fries?
Me: No, thanks. I’ll be back with my wife sometime. She has never been here either.
Manager: Thanks again.

I sat there at my little booth in the bar for another 5 minutes or so waiting to pay my check. I asked the hostess if she could take care of it. She responded, “No, your server will do that”. Nice!

My sour-faced server (Meghan was her name btw) was behind the bar at the register. I walked up to the bar and asked the bartender standing next to her if he could cash this out for me. “No, but I’ll have Meghan take care of it”. He tapped Meghan on the shoulder and pointed to my check. She grabbed it off the bar, cashed it out, and placed my change inside the check presenter, “Thanks a lot!”. Then, turned back around to finish whatever she as doing at the register before I walked up to the bar.

For some odd reason, I left her a “buck” tip. What was I thinking? This was totally an appropriate time to stiff someone. But, I never do that. On a $2.67 check (after the manager promo) she got $1.00...37%...for a lousy server! You see, when Meghan talked to the kitchen 20 minutes after taking my order, it appeared she discovered that she had forgotten to ring it into the system. That’s when she ran down to the nearest computer screen and rang it in. She frickin’ forgot to ring in my order! Then, as most uninspired, ill-trained, unhappy corporate servers will do...she ignored me, for fear of what I might say for waiting so long. Typical...and sad. The sad state of affairs the customer service industry is in.

I suppose I will give Red Robin another try, probably the other location near us (a new one in Oakdale). But, maybe not. The Three Strike Rule is a “benefit of the doubt” option. We may never be back. Plus, I’m sure I will tell at least 10 people about my “sour” experience (that’s the average negative referral rate). But large, corporate chains don’t seem very concerned about individual guests any longer, they survive on volume and national advertising methods. If one certain location “takes a dump”, they are not concerned. They’ll open another and another somewhere else...until they reach the point of diminishing returns. Then, dump the company on some mega-wealthy foreign conglomerate...the top dogs enjoying their retirements on day cruisers or at sunny resorts far from the maddening restaurant crowds.

The Red Robin concept is (and has been) a good idea. But like most corporate chains, franchise or otherwise, the execution is where failure occurs. It’s the on-going training, setting of expectations, and managerial accountability that is not followed through on. The Turlock Red Robin (and 100’s of others) are a million miles away from the first prototype. We, as consumers, can only hope that their founding fathers cared about the customer. The store employees, store management, and even district and regional type managers don’t seem to have that kind of concern. It’s just a job to them. It's painfully obvious this is the case at Red Robin.