"like experiencing murphy's law for two hours"- a fellow patron. i'm giving theyard2 stars because i did not get food poisoning. this is my first time reviewing a restaurant and last night was my first time in any dining establishment not leaving a tip. it is now early afternoon on a beautiful pittsburgh day. it has been about twelve hours since my friends and i entered the twilight zone of the yard. like the zone,we soon discovered that entering is a lot easier than getting out.
besides a few ordering hiccups (one of my friends has celiac disease, and so ordered her sandwich gluten-free, and the waiter then interpreted that as we all wanted gluten-free bread. gross.) the actual dining experience was pleasant. the chef corrected the gluten misunderstanding and our food arrived in a timely and aesthetically pleasant state. i had actually gotten someone to cover my shift at work so i could meet my friends and sample the infamous grilled cheese. expectations for the food were high and well met. i will never go back to that purgatory again. here's why.
before our waiter even brought the check, i asked if it was possible to split it for our party of six. i understand that is a miserable task, and only asked because we were one of three active tables in the bar. as a former waitress myself, i would have been fine if he'd refused the delineation. with slurred, fragmented speech he assured us it would not be a problem, and shuffled off to the kitchen to separate the tabs.
he came back a moment later with one long check, and mumbled something about how orders were according to seats 'so you guys can just do that.' we didn't understand either. this was 11:45pm and that's an important detail. we asked him to write our initials next to our orders (most of us had ordered two items). flustered, he grabbed his pen and we began the painstaking task of trying to communicate with a scotchbrite sponge. actually, a sponge would have been less frustrating because it is not encased in the facade of a sentient human being. in what was surely the quietest, most patient 7 minutes of our groups time (3 of my friends are currently waiters), we spoke with the slow deliberate manner of a parent explaining addition to a six year old. a six year old how just wasn't going to get it. eventually he scooted off to the back.
he returned less than twenty seconds later and laid the same check on the table. it had not been written on so we were all a bit puzzled, and we were further confused to find attached an additional check for another table. as friend (a waiter) stressed the importance of patience, and began writing clear, itemized instructions of which food and drink went to what name. we jokingly whispered in debate about whether he was high or drunk. both sides made solid cases but i remain convinced it was the latter.
he returned and we gave him the check, and also asked that we not be charged for the wings, as they were probably for another table. he nodded and mumbled incoherently. when he returned 10 minutes later with the same check yet again, it was printed anew, a clean slate free of our cluttered, specific instructions. we asked if he had noticed our notes. he said he could not read the handwriting. if nothing else, please trust me when i say we were all just trying to get out of there. it was 45 minutes into the process of paying and we had made no progress. the handwriting was perfect. he had also kept the wings. as we went around the table a third time, it was slightly funny that we all knew each others orders by heart, like an oft repeated word salad pledge of allegiance. the level of incomprehension with this guy was amazing. i was amazed. amazed that as he came to me, he asked for the third time if i'd gotten the gluten free sandwich. and then if i'd gotten the growler. wrong on both accounts of course. i clearly, crisply, and visibly annoyedly stated 'no, i did not get those items. i got the big chebowski, and the anchor. that is it, that is all i ordered and received tonight.' exasperated he mumbled something about a table to six being difficult, to which i channeled the dude and replied 'yeah, well, we've been through this three times man.' i asked if there was a register we could take our tab to. he mumbled and i guess it was something like a no. his final question before leaving: "so, who got the wings?"
upon the fourth or fifth visit to the table, we were ecstatic to see five separate checks. by a higher power's grace, mine was actually accurate. fate was not as kind to my friends, as there were still errors. leaving them behind haggling with the waiter, i went to the bar with my card and check, and asked if i could pay there or anywhere but with our waiter. there was no way that guy was gonna touch my debit card. the bartender smiled and said no. i begged, briefly explaining the trouble the waiter was having. no sympathy.
i've run out of room in this review. do not go to this place. we escaped an hour after first asking for the check. on a slow night.