Unserved in Saginaw Sullivans

 A few weeks ago, my roomie/bestie Linda Lewis and I drove to Saginaw, Michigan.  It was such a long drive, and we were exhausted when we arrived.  We went to the house where she'd grown up to meet her sister and pick up a few items that belonged to Linda from her youth.  You see, Linda's mother died in late January of Covid.  Her father, who also had covid but recovered, was moving to assisted living, and wouldn't be coming back to live in the house.

Linda is fairly stoic and guarded with her emotions, and I don't blame her.  She's been burned so many times.  We've roomed together over six years, and there are still many things she doesn't talk about with me.  I understand that, as that's her way.  Still, while we were there, she seemed more relaxed then I'd seen her in a long time.  I'm guessing that was because she was in a familiar, if painful, place with family.

I'd met her sister, brother-in-law, and niece previously, and they did their utmost to make me feel welcome.  They're wonderful people.  However, I couldn't help but feel like an intruder.  It didn't help that both of Linda's parents were heavy smokers for decades, and the place reeked of cigarettes.  

That's the background, but not the story.

Ummm...

We arrived on Friday, tired and hungry.  The roads were snow covered and full of potholes (so many that it felt like Pennsylvania!).  I asked her where she should eat, especially as I wanted a glass of wine.  Linda suggested Sullivans Food and Spirits.  This is not to be confused with the incredible chain Sullivan's Steakhouse around Philadelphia.  This place is completely different.

We arrived as heavy snow flurries fell from the night, and went inside, where a hostess seated us quickly and efficiently.  That much went right. She got us both water with lemon.  I learned that she was a new employee.  Well, she did her part right.  As for what happened next, I'll quote what I wrote on their facialbook page.

"waited 20 minutes after being seated for a server to acknowledge us.  ordered wine.  both glasses had lipstick stains.  Mgr was gossiping at other tables and never stopped by.

the server who finally picked up our table after the other flat out refused (was it because I'm transgender?) was very pleasant and efficient.

still, never going back."

I included a picture of my wine glass.  Note- I wasn't wearing any makeup.

Wine glass photo

Of course, there was more to the story.

After we were seated, we waited.  And waited.  A waitress worked on the tables on either side of our booth, including the table behind Linda, who arrived after we did.  The place was busy, but not THAT busy.  I noticed that the staff, especially the manager, had enough time to enjoy long conversations with the customers.

After a while, I asked Linda how long we'd been waiting.  She said "ten minutes." That's when I turned on my stopwatch- which is unfortunately becoming a habit in restaurants.

Screen shot of the timer after I stopped it.

After ten more minutes, I asked Linda how much longer she wanted to wait.  She said "one minute."  At this point, a waitress from across the room (call her B)  asked the person waiting on the tables around us (call her C) if we'd ordered.  C turned and looked at her, after glancing at me again, and said "I'm not waiting on THEM."  At this point, B pulled out her order book, and asked what we'd like to order.  I immediately turned off the stop watch.  We were 35 seconds from walking out. B was friendly and efficient.  We both ordered a glass of wine.  I ordered a steak.  Linda ordered Lake Perch, which is a local specialty that she hadn't had in a long time.  (Yellow Perch is native to Lake Michigan.)

The food arrived promptly.  My steak was fine (it's hard to screw up steak), but the fish was soggy and "disappointing."  We finished eating, and waited a while B came back to drop the check.  The manager had visited every table within my sight, usually sitting with them for long conversations, but never stopped by ours.  I wanted him to visit us, first to praise B's service, but also to complain about the wait and C's comment.  

I wrote a small comment on the check "B's service was the only good thing about this visit."  Yes, I tipped.  I always tip well.  As the manager hadn't visited, that night I left my comment on their facialbook page.  I didn't comment on Yelp.  

Later that night (9:17 pm) I received a message from Sullivans vs FB messenger, apologizing for the experience.  About an hour after that, I received a long message from the Manager on Duty (MOD) that night.  I will not quote it, as I don't have permission. It was long, rambling, and full of excuses- some of which were legit.  I understand him courting the regulars who wanted to talk.  To his credit, he again apologized, and offered me a free dinner if I decided to return.  He did not address my comment about the server refusing to serve us at all, which was the heart of the matter.

I did not reply.

Dear reader, this isn't the first time this happened to me in a restaurant as Sophie.  It happened a couple of times before transition, and many times since.  Once Linda and I were ignored in an Outback Steak House in King of Prussia and were fortunate enough to speak to the owner/manager.  We ate and drank for free that night.  Many times, I leave and don't bother saying anything, and never return.  It just isn't worth the pain and effort sometimes.  

Well, Sullivans, you are 478 miles from my apartment- almost an eight hour drive.  I don't think I'll take you up on that offer of a free meal.  I worked in the service industry for MANY years.  I know what good service looks like, and that wasn't it.  You had one chance to make an impression on me and blew it.  And worse- the Lake perch was soggy, after Linda so looked forward to it.

I would've liked to know why C didn't want to wait on us.  I assume it's because I'm visibly transgender.  Maybe I shouldn't assume it, but it follows the pattern, and I can't think of any other reason she refused to even acknowledge our presence.  

That night, I slept on an extremely uncomfortable couch, surrounded by dozens of dolls on shelves above me.  Creepy dolls.  I didn't sleep well that night, not the next when I slept on a different couch.  I don't know how Linda slept in the tiny room where she slept for years.  I was surrounded by creepy dolls, but she was surrounded by memories.  

"Join us... play with us..."

I'd rather be surrounded by the dolls.  

Be well.