December 12, 2012
I’d read about Three Buoys — the new fish restaurant that recently opened up a few blocks from my office. It sounded like a wonderful place for simple fish sandwiches, and for more sophisticated seafood preparations as well. So, I thought this morning, why not try it for lunch today.
I was warmly welcomed, but then presented with a dense page of typewritten text, that must have contained at least 100 different menu items. All were priced well above what I wanted to spend for lunch, and most were not seafood.
Yes — I could have scanned the menu, checking out the seafood items. There probably were some that would have interested me, and at a price not too much above what I expected to spend on lunch. But the very fact that there were so many items on the menu was proof positive to me that this place couldn’t be doing anything very well.
My “proof positive” may have been completely wrong. I might have missed a taste thrill for lunch today. But that’s not the point. What’s interesting is that I entered the restaurant wanting to buy something, and I left feeling upset that this mission was so hard. They might have lost not just my one purchase today, but a loyal customers for years to come.
What might have helped turn me into a real customer?
- A menu sorted by kind of item — Perhaps fried seafood, broiled seafood, soups, salads, meat, poultry, etc.
- A menu that was just shorter.
- A server who has offered to help me pick out something on the long menu for this new place.
- A page of lunch specials — perhaps only slightly cheaper than the full menu, but much more approachable.
Also, as I left, somebody might have asked, “We’re sorry you’re leaving . . . What were you looking for that you didn’t see on the menu?”
I want this little place to succeed, and may go back to offer my feedback — for what it’s worth. But if they are not querying their customers (or would-be customers), there’s not a lot of hope that they will get it right.