I was recently at a truly excellent golf course in Wisconsin called Northern Bay, and was extremely impressed by the service – from the bagboys to the cart guys to the starters, everything was top-notch. The golf carts were equipped with GPS, from which we were encouraged to order lunch before we got to the turn, so it would be waiting for us when we arrived. In theory, this system should speed service and play.

We ordered our meal when we were prompted by the system on the 8th hole. We arrived at the clubhouse, though, unsure whether we should go in or whether the food would be brought out to us. No one was outside, so we went in.

And there we stood at the bar for the next 5+ minutes, as the bartender resolutely ignored us, one server walked past us several times, and another group of servers who may or may not have been on the clock stood across the bar chatting.

I finally caught the bartender’s attention and asked about our meals, and was met with puzzlement. The bartender had no clue, so she asked the server. The server looked bewildered, but then said, something to the effect of, “Oh, yes. You’re food’s just about ready. I’ll bring it out.”

Apparently, though, it had been ready for quite a while. As we drove out to the 10th tee, I discovered my Wisconsin bratwurst was ICE cold and nestled in a stale bun. Worse yet, the chips consisted of the microscopic shards found at the bottom of a well-crushed bag, scattered alongside the cold brat.

The course at Northern Bay, as I say, was fantastic, and I’ll be writing a full review very soon. It will be mostly positive, except for that poor service, which is, unfortunately, hard to erase from my memory.

To provide some evidence that such experiences do not only affect my trained and somewhat critical eye, I offer a little tale from a neighbor who just returned from a weekend getaway to the French Lick Springs Hotel in Indiana.

The hotel—a historical landmark in its own right—has been newly resuscitated by the re-introduction of gaming and the opening of a critically acclaimed (and very expensive) Pete Dye Golf Course to accompany the existing Donald Ross classic course already there.

Now, I have been a long-time fan of French Lick Springs, having written about it years ago, predicting a renaissance if only gaming were to be legalized again. However, it’s not enough to make the place look good: Service is what people remember.

And my neighbor remembered this, as he told me about his visit:

He hand his wife had dinner reservations at 8:00pm in the resort’s top-tier restaurant, 1875: The Steakhouse. The couple were first shunted into the bar and apparently forgotten about for 45 minutes. But that’s not the bad part.

As they were sitting at the bar, a server brought back a brandy that was supposed to have been neat, but was instead on the rocks. The bartender, in full view of everyone, simply poured the brandy through her hand into another glass, catching the ice cubes.

“That should be good enough, shouldn’t it?” she joked. Um…no. Never.

Later, when my neighbor’s wine came out in a glass ringed with old lipstick marks, he asked for a new one, but wouldn’t let the server take the dirty one back; he didn’t want them to just wipe the lipstick off with a napkin and bring it back to him.

So how was the meal? OK, but after the service faux pas, not worth the hefty price tag.

The resort? Well, what stands out in memory is that bartender and her finger-strainer.

Needless to say, my neighbor won’t be going back any time soon.

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