"Unfortunately, since the new owners took over Front Street Station several years ago, the quality has declined dramatically. When my kids were young, my husband and I would go there frequently, and the previous owners provided excellent food and service in a warm, family-friendly atmosphere. It was a fantastic family restaurant. Clearly, the current owners lack an understanding of what makes a great dining experience.
When we arrived on Saturday and entered the bar, I was taken aback by the appearance of the woman tending the bar; she looked disheveled and unkempt. While I support giving people in need a job, I believe she would be better suited for a non-customer-facing role. We ordered our drinks—mine was red wine, and my friend opted for soda. I headed to the restroom, but when I tried the door, it was locked. I stood near the entrance of the small hallway leading to the dining room so the woman could walk past me when she exited.
Suddenly, I heard a loud voice from behind me, announcing to the entire small dining area, “There’s someone in the bathroom!” I replied, “I know. That’s why I’m standing here.” A minute later, the woman from the restroom came out and mentioned that the bathroom door locks when closed. I wasn’t sure if she meant it locks from the inside, so I went to try the door again and found it still locked. I realized I would need a key to unlock it, just like in cheap establishments that want to prevent people from barging in.
I looked around for the loud waitress but didn’t see her. I went over to the bar and asked the bartender if she had a key. She looked frustrated and approached the restroom. After finding the door still locked, she rummaged in a basket on a shelf across the wall for the key. Just then, the loud waitress entered the dining room and—once again, in her characteristic volume—said, “I told you! There’s someone in there!” In disbelief, I told her, “The woman just came out of the bathroom.” She began to say something along the lines of having to wait for the key, but she delivered it in a nasty tone. I replied firmly, “Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” To my shock, she then told me to leave the restaurant.
I was taken aback—I knew the restaurant had gone downhill, but this was beyond unexpected. Just then, the bartender managed to open the door, and as the waitress continued yelling for me to leave, I laughed and said, “I will, after I use the bathroom.” I entered the restroom, all the while speculating what would happen when I came out. Meanwhile, the waitress marched back into the bar and berated my male friend—who, by the way, is in his 60s and dressed appropriately for a nice lunch—calling me rude and saying we needed to leave, once again in front of everyone in the dining room.
She then went behind the bar, took my glass of wine, and set it under the bar, instructing the bartender not to serve us anymore. My friend pointed out that we had already paid for our drinks, and if she was taking it back, he wanted a refund. The bartender confirmed we had indeed paid, prompting the nasty waitress to return my wine to the bar."
