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THE HAGGLER - Follow Up
Restaurant Bill Shock? Some Readers Say ‘Au Contraire’
AFTER every episode of the Haggler, it is a safe bet that a handful of
readers will write to say that the Haggler is a patsy and a twit. Or
words to that effect. The gist of these e-mails is that the wrong party —
an aggrieved consumer, in most instances — has prevailed. The Haggler,
it is argued, failed to appreciate the company’s side of a dispute, and
the consumer should have known better, or behaved differently, or merely
had the decency to shut up.
Sometimes these e-mails include gratuitous and unflattering references
to the Haggler’s mother. But most are even-tempered and often, it must
be said, make a legitimate point.
The last column inspired a flurry of such you-got-it-wrong letters. This
week we look at a few of them, along with other novel reactions. The
point is that much of what is amusing and interesting about this column
is the aftermath, and that is otherwise invisible to readers.
So, a quick recap: a reader named Craig Tall wrote to complain that his
waiter at Nello, a restaurant on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, had
failed to mention the price of a lunch special, pasta with white
truffles, one day in October. The dish cost $275, as he learned when the
bill arrived. After complaining, Mr. Tall was given a 25 percent
discount, and the restaurant’s owner, Nello Balan, later promised
another 25 percent off after the Haggler called for comment.
To David M. Jacobi of Bainbridge Island, Wash., all of this sounded pretty outrageous.
“White truffles presently sell for about $250 an ounce,” Mr. Jacobi
wrote. “If you want to take the ferry, you’d best be prepared to pay for
your ticket — or at least have the good sense to ask what it costs to
cross the pond before you board the boat. Furthermore, every city has a
Nello or two, and you go there only if you have money to burn or you are
in the mood to abuse an expense account. It is not about the food and
it certainly is not about ‘value for money.’ ”
Tom Murray of Brattleboro, Vt., offered this: “Anyone who agrees to
purchase anything without knowing the price has no right to complain,
whatever the price. That’s like voting for someone you know nothing
about, then complaining ‘I had no idea he would do that.’ And
you mention that the customer’s bill was reduced after he complained, by
25 percent. On a bill of $400, that is a big cut -- maybe the profit on
those truffles. Please tell your diner to get real. Can he really
complain while buying a dinner what would feed a family for a month?”
Mr. Tall had sympathizers, too. One of them, Franklin Synder, a law
professor in Fort Worth, offered a bit of legal advice for anyone in a
similar predicament:
“You might be interested in letting your readers know that a restaurant
meal is a ‘sale of goods’ under Article 2 of the Uniform Commercial
Code,” he wrote. “The code provides that where the buyer and seller have
agreed to a contract but have not agreed on the price, the price is not
what the seller subsequently demands. It’s a reasonable price for the
goods at issue. Thus a customer has no obligation to pay for anything
more than the reasonable price of a pasta meal at a trendy restaurant.”
He continued: “In this circumstance, a customer should make a reasonable
offer for the value of the meal, then walk out and wait to be sued for
breach of contract. Be sure to leave the restaurant full contact
information so they can’t claim that you’re trying to steal something.”
TOO confrontational? Maybe you would prefer the cheeky approach
recommended by Mark Oldman, who writes about wine at a site called Drink Bravely.
“It’s called B.Y.O.T., a k a, bring your own truffle,” he says. “Every
autumn I head to a market and purchase one knobby tartufo bianco,
usually with my stash of loose change that has accumulated over the
year. I then take the truffle, a bottle of Barolo and a group of friends
to a humble, welcoming restaurant that serves truffle-friendly food
such as simple pasta or thin-crust pizza. Having one full truffle
ensures that there’s more than enough of this funky fungus to ‘make it
snow’ for everyone at the table. A portion even goes to the waiter,
thereby assuring the ritual stays cost-effective for years to come.”
The Haggler can imagine that this solution might avoid one restaurant
problem — bill shock — and run head long into another: physical
ejection. But Mr. Oldman has a video describing this ritual in detail,
viewable at markoldman.com/videos/BYOT_truffle, and he appears to have all of his teeth and much of his dignity.
Finally, it’s a new year here at Haggler Central, and time for a fresh solicitation for Haggler-worthy letters. First, what not
to send. Enough with the air-travel-nightmare yarns, people. For the
time being, that topic has been covered. Ditto cellphone and cable bill
disputes. Done and done-r.
But there are entire industries that never seem to yield letters, even
though people seem to complain about them all the time. Like H.M.O.’s,
online prescription services and moving companies. Not to mention
retailers, banks and educational institutions.
All truffle trauma? At this point, you’ll have to keep that to yourself.
An Unexpected Plate of Chutzpah May Be Served After Dessert
MARKET price.
Are there two more ominous words on any restaurant menu? The Haggler
thinks not. It’s a phrase with plenty of if-you-have-to-ask hauteur, but
those too cowed to inquire may be in for a grim surprise.
“They said ‘market price,’ ” gasps a character on “Community,” the NBC
comedy, as he weeps over a stupefyingly high restaurant bill. Then,
shrieking toward the kitchen: “What market are you shopping at?”
That said, at least “market price” carries with it a bit of a heads-up. You know what would be a whole lot worse? This:
Q. On Oct. 30, two friends and I went to lunch at
Nello, a restaurant on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Shortly after
we were seated, a waiter came to the table and mentioned the day’s
specials, one of which was described as pasta with truffle sauce.
At the end of the meal, I got a look at the check and for a moment I
thought I was hallucinating. The meal for the three of us cost $400. How
was that possible?
Easy.
The pasta dish cost $275.
No joke.
When I confronted the headwaiter, I was told that Nello never discloses
the prices of specials and that it is the customer’s duty to pipe up
with questions. To add obnoxiousness to injury, the manager told me that
we should expect high prices at Nello because 1) the restaurant is near
Hermès, the French seller of luxury clothing and bags, and 2) the
restaurant has been in its current location for nearly 25 years.
Weirdly enough, I still felt ripped off. Only after I began to make a fuss did a manager refund 25 percent of our bill.
I later e-mailed Nello Balan, the owner, and within a day, he wrote back
to apologize for our terrible experience. That was months ago,
obviously, and if Mr. Balan had a refund of some kind in mind, there is
no evidence of it.
Can you work some Haggler magic and get my money back? Craig Tall, Mercer Island, Wash.
A. Bill shock is common in the realm of cellphones,
hospitals and auto body shops. It is rare in restaurants, but it is
apparently a recurring phenomenon at Nello, which is both a longtime
haunt for certain celebrities and a Venus’ flytrap for tourist dollars.
An Internet search reveals that more than a few people have visited this
Euro-vibed establishment on Madison Avenue and come down with a bad
case of the $275 truffle blues. “The price of $275 was not mentioned by a
single word,” groaned a truffle-ruffled customer on TripAdvisor. “We were floored when we got the bill,” wailed a diner on Urbanspoon. Under the heading “The surprise of my life,” a patron who posted on menupages.com wrote: “Well, the bill came and we were horrified — just under $400 for two people with no alcohol.”
One e-complainer said the waiter would not come near the table after
dropping off the check — which included a 20 percent tip for service.
That might be a pretty succinct definition of “chutzpah.” A bit of
background: Nello Balan is one of the more — what is a nice way to put
this? — colorful characters in Manhattan’s dining business. A native of
Romania with an exotic accent, he says he is a descendent of Vlad the
Impaler, the inspiration for Count Dracula. He has bleached blond hair,
the body of a bouncer and a strange gift for regularly turning up in the
news media.
For a few years, that gift might have had something to do with money. In
2007, Richard Johnson, then the Page Six gossip columnist for The New
York Post, apologized in print for accepting a $1,000 “gift” from Mr.
Balan. Some cynics wondered at the time if this largess explained the
many favorable mentions of the restaurant in the column.
Oh, and there was a lawsuit in 2009, brought by former waiters who said
that Mr. Balan had “diverted” more than $100,000 a year from their tips.
A lawyer for the employees e-mailed the Haggler to say “the case was
resolved” but did not elaborate.
Last week, the Haggler called the restaurant, and a manager asked that
any questions be sent by e-mail. No problem. An hour later, Mr. Balan
wrote back.
“Thank you for addressing the problem directly to me,” the e-mail began.
He went on to caution against accepting Mr. Tall’s version of his
conversation with Nello’s staff, because one person’s account could
easily be distorted. But he quickly added that the waiter might have
been “confrontational” and that the restaurant required servers to
disclose the price of specials.
“I will clarify my policy, which is in place since we opened,” he wrote.
Maybe a neon sign would be a good idea, because it sure seems that a lot
of those waiters are falling down on this particular job. But this
entire issue, it seems, was new to Mr. Balan, who contended that the
first time he had heard about the $275 truffle special was when he
received Mr. Tall’s complaint.
“Since I value every customer,” he wrote, “I will offer another 25
percent discount on that check and I hope to see him back soon.”
Mr. Balan closed with yet another offer, this one for the Haggler. “If
you have time join me for a white truffle lunch, I still have two pounds
left before the season of the winter truffles kicks in.”
You hear that, America?
Nello has two pounds of truffles left.
You’ve been warned.
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