I was at my usual hangout with friends yesterday, settling in to watch England take on Norway in the World Cup – which England won. We had arrived early enough to grab good seats at the bar, order some food, and enjoy the pre-match conversation that always seems to happen before a big game.
There was one empty seat beside me.
A man walked in, sat down, and immediately asked, no, he told me, “I hope you’re cheering for England.”
“I am,” I replied. “Although I have a feeling Norway will win.”
That was apparently all the invitation he needed.
For the next couple of minutes, I received an unsolicited lecture on England’s versus Norway’s lineups, why the English would prevail, and, somehow, before I knew it, a rudimentary history lesson that stretched from modern football all the way back to the British Empire and the Middle Ages.
I nodded politely. Internally, I was thinking, Thank you for the history lesson; I’m well-acquainted with British and European history, having read at least a dozen books on the subjects.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it; even though I reiterated twice that I didn’t want Norway to win, I simply had a feeling they would.
The volume kept increasing, and yes, you could safely call it belligerence. Every few seconds came another booming “Go England!” that echoed through the room – despite the already talkative crowd and despite kickoff still being an hour away. It became obvious that he wasn’t simply enthusiastic. He had already done quite a bit of celebrating before arriving.
When he tried to order a drink, the bartender refused – offering him water instead. Then another bartender refused.
Predictably, he became upset and told everyone within earshot what happened. Not one person was empathetic or sympathetic. He argued. He raised his voice. He made a scene before finally leaving. Only afterward did I learn it wasn’t the first time. Apparently, it was the third occasion he had arrived already intoxicated and had been refused service, not to mention annoying other customers and being almost confrontational.
As I watched him storm out, I knew the bartenders weren’t the problem. Both of them have been bartenders for at least a decade each and have seen just about everything.
The customer was the problem.
One of the easiest things we do as people is confuse consequences with unfairness.
We make a decision. The decision produces an entirely predictable outcome. Then we become angry at the person who applies the consequence.
But the consequence didn’t arise on its own.
He wasn’t refused because the bartenders disliked him. He wasn’t refused because they wanted to spoil his evening or because they were Norway supporters.
He was refused because they were doing exactly what they’re legally and ethically expected to do. Responsible alcohol service isn’t optional. It’s part of the job and the law.
The decision that determined the outcome happened long before he walked through the door. Someone had several drinks before arriving and decided that wasn’t enough. Someone decided another drink or three at the bar would surely be fine and that the establishment would naturally oblige.
By the time he reached the bar, the difficult decision belonged to someone else, and they did the right thing – refusing him service.
What struck me most that afternoon wasn’t even the refusal itself. It was the professionalism of the staff. They stayed calm but firm. They didn’t match his volume. They didn’t insult him. They simply stood their ground and applied the same standard they would apply to anyone else.
That’s often the least appreciated part of customer service. People remember the person who shouted. They rarely remember the employee who quietly prevented a situation from becoming much worse.
By the time kickoff arrived, the atmosphere had returned to normal. Friends were talking football again. Food was arriving. The match became the focus, exactly as it should have been. Yeah, it was noisy in the place, but it was a noise you’d expect from cheering fans and not at all chaotic or vulgar. It was a respectful noise.
The loudest person in the room had gone home convinced he’d been treated unfairly.
From where I was sitting, I saw something completely different. I saw someone experiencing the entirely predictable result of choices he had already made. Sometimes the easiest thing in the world is to blame the bartender rather than look in the mirror at the real problem.
johnberkovich.com 