I always was a fan of Gordon Ramsay. I loved his passion. His determination to get things done brilliantly. The fact he was willing to speak his mind even if it made him unpopular.
I am now not a fan of Gordon Ramsay.
Don’t get me wrong, I love his restaurants. Wednesday night I took 10 of my favourite clients to Maze in Grosvenor Square to enjoy his Michelin starred food once again (a repeat of a previous night with 10 other fantastic women I am lucky enough to work with).
This time the legend was in the kitchen. Not cooking. Don’t be daft. But doing a spot check.
We were invited to meet him (given we were dining at the private chef’s table and spending a considerable sum of money). He could not have been more disinterested in us. He dismissed us a group of gaggling girls and a nuisance (telling us he only flew in a few hours ago so was too tired to take a photo). Not too tired to count our cash clearly.
I complained. As customers would in some of the restaurants he so openly critiques. And he didn’t care. In fact he shrugged me off like an annoying fly that had flown into his soup.
It sparked a fantastic debate at the table about how easy it is to get customer service wrong.
I’d be the first to admit, given we employ humans, not robots, that we do get it wrong at times. It’s in the getting it right that the difference between you and your competitor gets defined. Do you fix it. Do you fix it well. Do you fix it so well that you turn the situation around to a positive.
He offered me a signed photo. Then a single petit four.
I’m voting for Jamie’s Italian next time.