Where Shall We Eat? Not Ruby Tuesday!

Let’s begin at the first inkling of what would eventually become the norm anytime we visit any Ruby Tuesday.  …that I would inevitably leave in a fit of anger and then write a letter to various officers of the company.  All of which would never be acknowledged.

Back in 2000, a week or two after the Presidential election, I met a couple of friends at RT on the Southside, right here in the ‘Ham.  Southside is Buckhead’s (in Atlanta) ugly step-sister.   It leans kinda left, kinda trendy, kinda off beat, kinda not me.

My two friends and I were sharing a nice enough lunch and were talking about what the entire country was talking about:  Bush v. Gore.  Our waiter was a nice young man who was in college and joined in the conversation.  He respectfully disagreed  and frankly, was parroting what his government professor had just taught him that day.  Whatever.  He was a nice kid, if not misguided.

The rub comes here.  In chatting with this this young man and my two friends, a second waiter came by uninvited and joined the conversation.  He actually said to his customers “If you voted for George Bush, you’re an idiot anyway.”  *Side note to my friend Bob who is surely agreeing with the waiter by this time in my story…Bob…just keep reading and resist the urge to say anything.  Start your own blog.)

Ummm..Seriously?  Because I voted for George Bush.  I have a college degree, I speak two languages, and I can name the entire 1982 pennant winning Braves roster.  Really.  I think that proves I’m not an idiot.

I left that day in a fury of anger.  I wrote to Ruby Tuesday to complain never to receive a response.

Years passed and we would on occasion visit RT.  Usually we went because of convenience and because our friends would suggest it and we didn’t want to seem contrary.  We mostly ordered their salad bar because their food is simply not good.  In fact, their photographers are much more talented than their chefs.  They make the food actually LOOK good on the menu but in reality, it’s awful. Then there’s the fact that RT changes their menu more often than I change my hair color.  Yes…the only reason to visit RT was for their salad bar.

And so we went to Ruby Tuesday for their salad bar on an early Sunday evening in the summer of 2006.  There was a brand new one at the Alabaster Colonial Promenade that was really convenient to us.

We ordered from their new menu (of course it was new, they change it faster than Michael Jackson changed his nose.  R.I.P.)  and headed for the salad bar.

Here’s what I found:

• Half of a bowl of iceberg lettuce
• No Onions
• A few strings of cheese
• No pasta salad (a key building block of the Ruby Tuesday salad)
• No broccoli salad
• No croutons
• No cucumbers
• No honey mustard dressing

It’s as if they wanted me to build a salad out of the sunflower seeds and eggs.

I asked the guy at the host counter to see if they could refill the salad bar.  I went back a few minutes later and the only item that had been refilled were the onions.  Brilliant.  It’s 6:00pm on Sunday night and there is no food on the salad bar.   …and no one seemed concerned about it.

We ate what we could.  After all, we had already ordered….and then we left.  Promising, as usual,  to never return.

And yet, we did.  What follows is an account by my husband posted to his now dormant blog back when it happened during that ill-fated visit.

Ruby Tuesday Hates Babies and the Handicapped

All of you who have known my wife and me for any amount of time have probably heard us complain about Ruby Tuesday.  We hate it, but for some reason we keep going back.  We swore not too long ago that we wouldn’t go back, but we did.  It’s like Ruby Tuesday is an abusive boyfriend.  He hits us but we know he still loves us and we keep coming back.

This time we went to the one at the Galleria with several of our friends.  There were six of us – with one in a wheelchair – and our baby.  We asked  for a table for six and a baby, and the host said, “Oh, wow…”  like we just unloaded a busload of teenagers.  They tried to sit us at a booth for four people, which quite obviously wasn’t going to work.  Then they hemmed and hawed about how they had nowhere to seat us.  I suggested that maybe we could use that empty table for 8 to my immediate left.  Unbelievably, the guy said that they were closing that section off for the night.  We told him to go get the manager, and she confirmed that they simply would not be seating us.

I gotta tell ya, it was really astounding.  Amarilys was just plain ol’ pissed off about it.  I don’t think she can remember the last time that she actually finished a meal at Ruby Tuesday without talking to a manager.  Surely, this was the last straw in our relationship with Ruby.

I wrote several letters after that experience.  I looked up media relations and let them know what happened.  The Ruby Tuesday at the Galleria refused to accommodate my friends and me because we had a wheelchair and a baby stroller in our party.  That, my friends, is unacceptable.  ….and as I understand it, it happened again to my same friends at the same restaurant.

Sadly, it was not the last straw as my husband predicted it would be.  I was forced to go back to RT at Alabaster when my sister and my mother came into town.  My sister is the boss of everything so she had made up her mind and we had to follow.  I tried to warn them. ..but they didn’t listen.  Here’s my account of that precious trip to what is really and truly the last time I would ever visit a Ruby Tuesday.  I posted it to a blog I maintained about two years ago….

My mom and sister were in town visiting from Atlanta today.  We did a little bit of shopping and then it was time for a late lunch.  My sister wanted the salad bar at Ruby Tuesday but I warned her about my previous experience(s) with them and in fact, that particular one in Alabaster.  Against my better judgment, we ventured into Ruby Tuesday.

Things began pretty well.  We walked in and were greeted very warmly by a hostess and seated right away.  We asked to be moved to another part of the restaurant because the sun was bright and they very kindly accommodated us.   Now, I’m optimistic.  I saw the salad bar was completely stocked and looked delicious   We were ready to chow down!

Then we waited.

….and waited.

….and waited.

I saw two different servers pass by our table to help their respective customers.  Each one of them had ONE table they were serving.  They walked past us multiple times without so much as a glance.  Our menus were closed, we were clearly ready to place our orders.  Yet not one single person came to check with us.  NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON.  No greeting, no drink orders, no “I’ll be right with you.”   In fact, one of those two servers walked past us and then over to another booth to have a seat.  I couldn’t see if he was eating or taking a break but I know what he wasn’t doing.  He wasn’t helping us.

Twelve minutes elapsed before my head exploded and we packed up.  ….but not before I had a little chat with the manager.  With a smile on my face, I asked for the manager.

The moment I asked for the manager, servers came out of the woodwork to ask us if we needed help or if we had been seated etc.  I said “No, we haven’t been helped and no, I don’t need help.  I would just like to speak to your manager.”

The manager listened to what I said and then offered us a free meal to stay and eat there.  I told him that I was not looking for anything for free.  Rather, I wanted him to know what poor service I thought his restaurant offered and that it was not the first time we had a bad experience there.  I also told him that the only reason I really wanted to talk to him was to tell him that I would never come back.

….and this time, I mean it.

Sure enough, we’ve maintained our promise with one single exception from me.  Let’s just say there’s not a whole lot of places to go eat after a funeral in Jasper, Alabama.

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