Ejected and rejected

Maybe it was the hair. After waiting out a four-hour rain delay to watch Lincecum pitch, a few hours more sitting in drizzle and a walk up the street in search of a post-game snack, chances are good the frizz peeking out of a plastic rain poncho left me looking a bit bedraggled. But drowned rat or not, it should not have left me looking like a thief. Yet, there we were, me and my partner in crime -- and oh how that phrase sounds ironic now -- indulging in a long-standing wish to check out the San Francisco Mexican restaurant Tres Agaves. We should have stuck with the stale pretzel at the ball park. At least that vendor was kind enough to point out fresher products at the Doggy Diner. Long story short, after first being seated in a booth, we moved into a table near the television in the bar, taking with us the aforementioned ponchos, backpacks filled with emergency mittens and scarves and, in our frenzied bundling, a woman's jacket that had been left on the seat. After getting cozy in the new spot, we noticed the extra clothing and planned to hand the jacket over to the server. In the chaotic mix of waiting for a server, getting wrapped up in the end of the game and pondering whether guacamole and albondigas were necessary, the jacket stayed on the chair. Roughly an hour later, an employee -- or so he appeared without his actually identifying himself -- approached to ask if we had a jacket. Why yes, and here it is, was the response. He left but returned not to thank us for handing over the jacket, not to clarify how it was moved from booth to chair but to demand, "You have to leave." When I asked what he was talking about, he said the owner had returned and claimed we had stolen her Chanel jacket so we had to leave. How funny -- I, who am rarely at a loss for words, was so stunned and frankly a bit humiliated that I couldn't even find a voice to ask the man's name or issue my own demand for an audience with the manager or allegedly wronged customer. So we left, leaving in our wake a barful of staring customers, a perplexed server (who I still tipped on the way out) and lingering confusion over what the hell just happened. Customer service is not a perfect science. Horrible stories abound of what happens when customers send back steaks or bartenders who don't notice anyone not wearing a miniskirt. There are valets who dent cars, bussers who spill water and hostesses who forget to write down reservations. Likewise, there are customers who will never be happy, clients who ditch out on bills and misunderstandings about what "dressing on the side" means. The bottom line is some of it is avoidable, most of it of it is regrettable and some of it just manages to happen -- even to customers who forgo the coat check and leave their belongings behind. And, obviously, things happen to innocent patrons with no desire of nabbing another person's belongings, Chanel or otherwise. The customer isn't always right. Really, neither is the establishment. But as any business owner -- heck, any rational person -- knows, an explanation and an apology goes along way toward smoothing over a situation. A conversation, too, is a great step toward figuring out just where a situation went wrong. Certainly, owners Eric Rubin and Julio Bermejo, would agree, wouldn't they? A company with so many accolades for their growing number of restaurants and tequila know-how couldn't possibly be content not to ferret out the truth, could they? Honestly, I don't know. A week of fruitless phone calls, messages on their Web site and e-mails to their general manager's e-mail address went unanswered. E-mails to their public relations group bounce back. Remember Michael Moore stalking GM CEO Roger Smith in his first documentary? You get the idea. So, I'm left wondering if it was the hair -- actually wondering what the heck it was at all and nursing evil, juvenile wishes that rats infest their kitchen and all their avocados mold. In between the fuming, though, I thank the restaurant. Not only did they save me a bill that evening -- at least they didn't have the audacity to ask that I pay -- but they gave me a new appreciation of all the restaurants and businesses in the Bay Area that know how to conduct themselves. Certain places may get the headlines and the publicity, but in the end the others are the ones that nab customer loyalty. And even if the owners and managers of Tres Agaves don't want to know the truth, I do. Nothing was stolen that evening but at least one thing was permanently lost -- a customer. Michelle Durand's column "Off the Beat" runs every Tuesday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 102. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.