A Series of Unfortunate Events

Do you remember the film called Lemony Snicket's? I couldn’t tell you one thing about that movie, except for the fact that the subtitle was “A Series of Unfortunate Events.”

I recently experienced my own series of unfortunate events, and I’ll do my best to recount the story accurately. But honestly, it was such a strange night that I am not sure I can trust my own memory. As I write this, I keep thinking, “Did that really happen?”

I had arrived in Philadelphia for a four-day event with some entrepreneurs. Many of us flew in the night before, and the organization we were working with had arranged dinner plans for us. We met in the hotel lobby and drove to The Cheesecake Factory.

Our client chose this restaurant because it was very close to our hotel, we could make a group reservation, and with such a large menu, there would be something for everyone!

Upon arrival, we noticed that the place was packed, and we were grateful for a reservation. A member of our party went to check us in. She came back laughing and reported that we needed to listen closely for the name “Felicity.” This was odd because no one in our party was named Felicity.

My colleague then shared that the name and cell number for the reservation belonged to the person who made the reservation. She told the host we needed to change the contact information to match someone who was actually in our group, but the host replied that she couldn’t edit the information. Since the text message would go to Felicity’s cell phone, we were told to listen closely for her name.

My thought was, “It’s 2023, and you can’t edit a reservation? Ok.”

After a 5-minute wait, we made it to Felicity’s table. Our waitress – I am not sure she ever told us her name – let’s call her Amber, brought us our menus. We began the process of reading what felt like a novel.

Amber returned about ten minutes later and took our drink orders. Eventually, she brought us our drinks, departed again, and then returned to ask if we had any questions. She once again left and returned later to see if we wanted any appetizers. There was a pattern with her coming and going, so we were firm in not letting her depart this time. We said that we wanted to order the appetizers and our entrées.

Eventually, our food arrived, but we’d been there so long that the conversation had already shifted to dessert. We agreed we should order dessert sooner rather than later! However, our server was nowhere to be found.

So, we issued an Amber Alert. At one point, a member of our group left the table to ask a manager if there was someone who could help us. We had been there for a few hours with no drink refills, a table full of dirty dishes, and we wanted to order dessert.

I finally saw Amber and flagged her down like I was working on the runway at a major airport. She was the plane, and we needed her to land tableside!

We told her we wanted to order dessert. She replied, “ok,” and left.

Wait, what just happened?

She returned about ten minutes later with some dessert menus, which we didn’t need because if you are going to order dessert at the Cheesecake Factory, you are probably going to order, you guessed it, cheesecake. She set down the menus and left again!

I looked at the person to my right and said, “Did she just leave us again?” We were all in shock that we had let her go!

Amber finally returned and took our dessert order. We also explained that we had a friend who was running late, and we wanted to order an entrée for her.

After another ten minutes, the dessert, our friend, and her entrée all arrived.

As my friend began to eat her meal, she quickly realized that her medium Steak was rare, very rare. We issued another Amber Alert, and my friend voiced her concern. It was at this moment that things got really uncomfortable. Amber replied, “I am sorry about your steak. Do you want me to take it to the kitchen and have them put it on the grill again?”

We were all thinking the same thing: is it sanitary to put a partially eaten steak on a grill that you use for everyone?

My friend awkwardly replied, “Um, can you, ah, do that? Is that, ah, legal?” At this point, Amber said, “Well, let me talk to my manager.”

The manager came to our table and asked again if we wanted the kitchen to put the partially eaten steak back on the grill.

At this point, I could no longer control myself. I was shaking my head and making comments like, “There is no way the FDA is okay with that!” My friend stood her ground and requested a salad instead.

The evening was truly a series of unfortunate events, and the reality is this wasn’t Amber’s fault. She was functioning in a system that had failed to set her up for success. Based on the number of reservations that night, they knew it would be a full house, and they didn’t bring in enough staff. Way too much fell on Amber’s shoulders.

There is a reason the system failed Amber and her guests; it was designed to serve the people in power. Amber and most of the customers didn’t have a very good night, but the CEO and the corporate office sure did. Systems are designed to work for those in power.

So, the next time you see someone struggling, take a moment to zoom out and think about the system they are functioning in. Ask yourself if that system is setting them up for success.

And then, take some time to think about the systems you are working in and the systems you have created for others. Are those systems serving your people, or are they serving those in power?

We need more leaders who will create systems that serve the people, otherwise we are just creating another series of unfortunate events.