By Ted Kruckel
A few years back a positively riveting article by Frank DiGiacomo ran in The New York Observer about a meeting where the burgundy list publishers, Tim and Nina Zagat—backed by reams of questionnaires from real diners—squared-off with restaurateurs like Danny Meyer and Drew Nieporent. The battleground? A proposal for a Diner's Bill of Rights.
Summarized briefly, the saga went that the Zagats were trying to convince dinner-place owners to observe an intensely wrought list of rights that diners could expect to enjoy at all soignée establishments. The list itself escapes me…all sorts of stuff about not waiting more than two hours if you had a reservation (and, assumedly, you were at the right place) and that no waiters were to cough on your food deliberately.
The Sturm and Drang was real good, though, what with those influential Zagats involved, with just an oh-so-slight concern about, and air of, coercion. Talk moved of a new and mysterious graphic symbol for foodie-page-thumbers to see if their rights were to be upheld at, say, Nobu. (Imagine it—another Zagat symbol.)
It is in this spirit that I propose party throwers fight back against grievous guest behavior. Here's why: If you are in the event profession, then there's no need to remind you that it is a service business. But the "customer is always right" mantra neglects the fact that they are not. Coddled celebrities, demanding journalists and pushy guests can hijack you during a crucial moment and threaten an event. The clients or executives throwing the event are often guilty too; they think your job is "soft" or "fun" and behavior that would never be tolerated in the office seems alright when there are balloons around.
My modest proposal: Event planners should adopt the following bill of rights.
1. At a cocktail party for 50 people or less… The menu need not include vegan alternatives.
2. No benefit organizer should ever be forced to reveal how any or all seating choices were made. When this egregious transgression occurs—and it will—it's best to play dumb.
3. The list of services an event impresario never has to perform, regardless of circumstances, includes, but is not limited to, the following*:
A. Carrying a pail of urine for a celebrity performer who would prefer not to walk through the civilian black-tie crowd
B. Addressing, and insisting that staff address, a mini-duffel with heat rollers and other hair implements as "The Football," and assigning a guard to said duffel
C. Wearing a nametag
4. Guests of guests may not bring guests. A family-tested favorite.
5. When welcoming plush guests such as Hello Kitty, Paddington Bear or any Disney character (and their assorted wranglers): Host is not expected to know every character's back story and/or personal interaction rules. Host, must, however, be willing to point characters toward their trailer and cameras.
6. All event planners are afforded one instance of "It just didn't arrive" per outing. Provided "it" is neither the M.C. nor the check. In those circumstances rights are best negotiated out of earshot.
7. If approached by clients or attendees whose names have been forgotten… A party host is excused for pretending to talk intently into a headset. Note of caution: Occasionally they wait.
8. Gift bag hander-outers are required to say no more than "Goodnight" and "Thank you for coming." It's best that way. At the end of the night, event staff and clients alike feel looser and thus more likely to get casually chatty with guests. This can get bad.
9. Any boss (or client) who calls for a full recap before 10 AM the following day…when their event extended beyond 11 PM the evening before, gets what they get.
10. All professionals who proclaim to adhere to any rules beyond The Big Three** are full of bologna.
So here's a reminder:
1. Check them in.
2. Check their coats.
3. Serve them drinks.
If they misbehave after that, it's probably not your fault.
* A and B, sadly, are not hypothetical examples. There's a dinner on me (within reason) for the first reader who correctly identifies the individuals who demanded such treatment.
** The Big Three were credited in The New York Times to the recently deceased accomplished party-giver, Brooke Astor confidante and legendary grump George Trescher. But I learned them from then-Allure, now-Lucky publisher Alexandra Golinkin in, or around, 1994.
Columnist Ted Kruckel is an experienced—and opinionated—PR pro who produced events for 20 years for high-profile clients like Vanity Fair, Elle Décor and Christian Dior, before he shuttered his firm, Ted Inc., earlier this year. Email him at [email protected].
This story is from the Winter 2003 issue of the BiZBash Event Style Reporter.
A few years back a positively riveting article by Frank DiGiacomo ran in The New York Observer about a meeting where the burgundy list publishers, Tim and Nina Zagat—backed by reams of questionnaires from real diners—squared-off with restaurateurs like Danny Meyer and Drew Nieporent. The battleground? A proposal for a Diner's Bill of Rights.
Summarized briefly, the saga went that the Zagats were trying to convince dinner-place owners to observe an intensely wrought list of rights that diners could expect to enjoy at all soignée establishments. The list itself escapes me…all sorts of stuff about not waiting more than two hours if you had a reservation (and, assumedly, you were at the right place) and that no waiters were to cough on your food deliberately.
The Sturm and Drang was real good, though, what with those influential Zagats involved, with just an oh-so-slight concern about, and air of, coercion. Talk moved of a new and mysterious graphic symbol for foodie-page-thumbers to see if their rights were to be upheld at, say, Nobu. (Imagine it—another Zagat symbol.)
It is in this spirit that I propose party throwers fight back against grievous guest behavior. Here's why: If you are in the event profession, then there's no need to remind you that it is a service business. But the "customer is always right" mantra neglects the fact that they are not. Coddled celebrities, demanding journalists and pushy guests can hijack you during a crucial moment and threaten an event. The clients or executives throwing the event are often guilty too; they think your job is "soft" or "fun" and behavior that would never be tolerated in the office seems alright when there are balloons around.
My modest proposal: Event planners should adopt the following bill of rights.
1. At a cocktail party for 50 people or less… The menu need not include vegan alternatives.
2. No benefit organizer should ever be forced to reveal how any or all seating choices were made. When this egregious transgression occurs—and it will—it's best to play dumb.
3. The list of services an event impresario never has to perform, regardless of circumstances, includes, but is not limited to, the following*:
A. Carrying a pail of urine for a celebrity performer who would prefer not to walk through the civilian black-tie crowd
B. Addressing, and insisting that staff address, a mini-duffel with heat rollers and other hair implements as "The Football," and assigning a guard to said duffel
C. Wearing a nametag
4. Guests of guests may not bring guests. A family-tested favorite.
5. When welcoming plush guests such as Hello Kitty, Paddington Bear or any Disney character (and their assorted wranglers): Host is not expected to know every character's back story and/or personal interaction rules. Host, must, however, be willing to point characters toward their trailer and cameras.
6. All event planners are afforded one instance of "It just didn't arrive" per outing. Provided "it" is neither the M.C. nor the check. In those circumstances rights are best negotiated out of earshot.
7. If approached by clients or attendees whose names have been forgotten… A party host is excused for pretending to talk intently into a headset. Note of caution: Occasionally they wait.
8. Gift bag hander-outers are required to say no more than "Goodnight" and "Thank you for coming." It's best that way. At the end of the night, event staff and clients alike feel looser and thus more likely to get casually chatty with guests. This can get bad.
9. Any boss (or client) who calls for a full recap before 10 AM the following day…when their event extended beyond 11 PM the evening before, gets what they get.
10. All professionals who proclaim to adhere to any rules beyond The Big Three** are full of bologna.
So here's a reminder:
1. Check them in.
2. Check their coats.
3. Serve them drinks.
If they misbehave after that, it's probably not your fault.
* A and B, sadly, are not hypothetical examples. There's a dinner on me (within reason) for the first reader who correctly identifies the individuals who demanded such treatment.
** The Big Three were credited in The New York Times to the recently deceased accomplished party-giver, Brooke Astor confidante and legendary grump George Trescher. But I learned them from then-Allure, now-Lucky publisher Alexandra Golinkin in, or around, 1994.
Columnist Ted Kruckel is an experienced—and opinionated—PR pro who produced events for 20 years for high-profile clients like Vanity Fair, Elle Décor and Christian Dior, before he shuttered his firm, Ted Inc., earlier this year. Email him at [email protected].
This story is from the Winter 2003 issue of the BiZBash Event Style Reporter.
