UPDATED! The (Pan)aroma of Unhelpful: My Failed Attempt to Dine at Sean’s Panaroma

Overqualified for Sean's Panaroma customer service ©

I wanted to host my mother’s birthday dinner – one of those big, important, you-get-sparkly-jewellery-presents-and-don’t-hold-back-on-the-champagne birthdays. I wanted something really special for her, and I figured a restaurant by the sea on a Sydney spring evening, with a guest chef working in a restaurant known for its commitment to organic food would be all that. And I was only talking dinner for ten people – not something you’d try at home, but not so hard for a professional, right? Turns out it was amateur night - no, amateur week. And I didn’t even get to the restaurant...

It started with the answering machine message, which informed me that the staff only answered the phone for a short interval three days a week. Not that I had a particular problem with that, since you could leave a message and in their all-too-brief-because-everybody’s-busy weekly telephone interval, they’d call back right?

Not so fast: after telling you the limited period in which calls will be answered by an actual human, the increasingly irritated-sounding answering machine proceeds to instruct in haughty tones “Don’t leave a message”. What was I supposed to do? Send a pigeon? A singing gorilla? Camp outside the door with a placard? All I wanted was to make a booking - how hard could it be??

Three hours of telephoning on the designated day later, I had a booking. So far, so good. I had achieved already. Invitations to guests were sent.

A few days before the big day, I spent another three hours trying to get through, since I wanted to confirm the booking and make sure all would be perfect for Mum’s big night. Finally, I get through. I confirm the booking.

This is where the wheels fall off.

When I ask what the vegetarian options might be (since my mother is missing the rampant carnivore gene the rest of us have in spades), I receive a haughty reply, complete with heavy sigh, that "of course there are vegetarian options". If I’d been able to, doubtless I’d have seen the waiter rolling his eyes at having to answer tiresome questions from potential customers. Not that I found out what the options were, of course, since answering customer questions was clearly not in the job description:

ME: It’s my mother’s big birthday celebration, and we’d like to do something special. Is it possible to order a birthday cake for the table for dessert?

WAITPERSON WHO IS REALLY AN ACTOR/MODEL/WHATEVER: [Heavy sigh] No, we don’t do that.

ME: All right, would it be possible to bring a cake?

A/M/W: No.

ME: Ohh-kkay, would it be possible to have one of your regular desserts made in a larger size for the table to share?

A/M/W: Maybe.

ME: Erm, would it be possible to know what the dessert options would be?

A/M/W: No, of course not, we don’t know ourselves. You’ll just have to turn up and see, and if we can make a dessert in a large size, we might do that, otherwise everyone will just have to order their own.

ME: But it’s a birthday dinner, surely a birthday cake/dessert is not entirely out of the question?

A/M/W: I can’t help you.

Finally, he got one answer right.

I hang up and see if the red haze of rage will dissipate. It won’t. I spend the next hour trying to call them back and hanging up on the nasty answering machine. Finally, I get through and explain (politely) that I was cancelling the booking, since I’d had really unhelpful service over the phone and couldn’t take the risk that my mother and her guests would receive similar treatment on what, I believe I had mentioned, was a special birthday occasion.

The response? “Oh.” And he hung up.

I subsequently wrote Sean Moran an email. I said his restaurant had been our first choice, but that his staff had made it no choice at all. I’ve heard nothing since.

I happily spent a fortune on celebrating my mother at Catalina, and it was worth every penny.

EDITOR'S UPDATE: Moneypenny has expressed much the same view in comments posted online at The Sydney Morning Herald. The result? A firestorm... mostly of violent agreement! Lift thy game, Sean's Panaroma, Sydney customers are onto you!