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How big of a problem is thievery in restaurants, with customers taking silverware, coffee mugs, and the like? —Ralph M., St. Louis
My guess is that tabletop accoutrements have been pilfered from restaurants for as long as there have been restaurants. But it’s not just pieces of silverware or a random bud vase that's getting pinched. The list is long, varied, and surprising.
For starters, the smaller or cuter the item, the more likely it is to walk out the door. In truth, restaurateurs learn early on that if it can be stolen, it will be stolen.
My running list includes:
- creamer pitchers
- salt and pepper shakers
- Parmesan and hot pepper shakers from pizza joints
- jam/jelly caddies
- sweetener packets
- bud vases
- decorative votive candle holders
- silverware (steak knives, oyster forks, espresso spoons, and escargot tongs are quite popular)
- soufflé cups (especially the fluted, ceramic ones)
- unusual glassware (as well as the ubiquitous logoed pint glass)
- quartino glassware
- sake cups
- napkins
- napkin rings
- chopsticks (the nicer variety)
- tip jars
- tips sitting on other tables
Some customers are brazen, to be sure, but they haven’t reached the point of toting bubble wrap with them. Yet.
Asked how often items are lifted, most restaurateurs will say “not a lot but enough to make you really mad.”
Restaurateur Charlie Downs (of Cyrano's Cafe, Sugarfire Smoke House, Sugarfire Pie, Hi-Pointe Drive-In, and Chicken Out) says he used to buy an extra dozen roses for the tables at Cyrano's every week. (“I told myself that it’s to replace the ones that wilt,” he says, which he knows is only partly true, because "more seem to wilt during prom season.") He’s been advised not to bring barbecue sauce in squeeze bottles when catering conventions with BBQ, because entire bottles tend to disappear, presumably destined for local hotel rooms.
Photo by George Mahe
I read about college students lifting bottles of Horsey Sauce from Arby’s only to return them later—and swap them out for full ones.
Derek Gamlin recalled that at the former Sub Zero Vodka Bar customers would pilfer copper Moscow Mule mugs, but the problem dissipated. He reports no thefts of the 168-ounce Mondo Mule mug at 1764 Public House, however. "Too big to steal, I guess," he quipped.
Buffets seem to be the target of extra-hungry diners: I’ve heard of entire plates of food being wrapped in napkins before being shuffled into purses the size of carry-ons.
The most popular items stolen, according to multiple sources? Salt and pepper shakers and rolls of toilet paper (lifted from the supply cabinet) and this was long before an epidemic resurgance.
Courtesy of Mission Taco Joint
Mascots are also favorite targets. Those giant red-eyed fiberglass steer that graze outside steakhouses frequently go M.I.A. several years ago, Señor Frog, the bespectacled, guitar-playing mascot at Mission Taco Joint in Soulard, disappeared and then mysteriously returned. The owners wasted no time playing up the caper, tweeting, "Sometimes a frog parties too much and makes bad decisions."
The most gutsy items ever pilfered?
I’ve had large urns stolen, ladies room signage plucked from restroom doors, plants that were too heavy for one person to lift, and pieces of artwork removed from the walls of my past restaurants. Ever wonder why a lot of restaurant art is placed above eye-level, where it should be displayed? For the same reason that every sign for Elvis Presley Boulevard in Memphis is placed high in the air: sticky fingers. Any restaurant person will tell you that anti-theft picture hangers are the best investment ever.
I read about a guy who posed as a plumber just to lift a fancy sink out of a restaurant’s men's room—yet he was considerate enough to replace it with a cheaper one! Fancy faucets have been swiped.
After a pair of expensive salt and pepper mills mysteriously disappeared from a table, one owner got fed up enough to tack a "Misc $140" charge onto the couple's dinner bill. They paid it.
Years ago, when Jimmy Kristo managed Restaurant de Bergerac, where "everything was either sterling silver or silverplate," he did something similar. When a creamer pitcher disappeared, Kristo was agitated. When the table lamp disappeared as well (the ones with a little shade and votive candle), he responded by adding charges of $60 and $140, respectively, to the check, noting the two items on the bill. After the items mysteriously reappeared on the table top, the server whisked the check off the table and deleted the charges. The couple paid without a word said.
The most outrageous items ever stolen? How about urinal toys, those, um, interactive games of skill. The one I liked involved a pointer and silly sayings. In Columbia, Missouri, I lost so many that I had to stop buying them. (Sidebar: When Stan Kroenke moved the Rams out of town—and once again when his team made it to the Super Bowl—his visage appeared on urinal screens in at several local restaurants. (No word on how often they had to be replaced.)
Restaurateurs try to beat the thievery game in a variety of ways: After losing 20,000 spoons, a Mexican restaurant began offering free tacos to "honest thieves" who returned a spoon.
Courtesy of Shack
Brant Baldanza, managing partner of OG Hospitality Group, owner of eight local restaurant (including five locations of The Shack), addressed pilfery in an unusual way. To their credit (or detriment), The Shack uses fun logoed mugs with cutesy sayings. After they began disappearing, Baldanza put up a sign and is charging a nominal fee for the mugs, "with all proceeds benefiting the stolen mug fund." When Baldanza opened Shack locations in Kansas City, the practice followed—"just in case."
At the Valley Park plaza where OG Hospitality owns three restaurants, he says, "glasses from one place show up at another. A lot. I can only guess what's in people's kitchens at home."
Photo by George Mahe
My story: After years of losing ornaments (even the really cheap ones) off Christmas trees in the restaurant, we began making little ornaments for the tree—mini clothespin reindeers with the restaurant's name and year on it. They were the only ornaments we put on the tree. The front desk staffers offered one to every party on their way out the door, a holiday parting gift from the restaurant. That may be my favorite lemons-to-lemonade story ever.
I’ll end with another personal example, this time with yours truly as the delinquent: Years ago, I was flying on an American Airlines 747 and found myself in the lounge eyeballing a large, handsome, cobalt-blue ashtray, with a recessed “A” as the receptacle and the words "Ambassador Service" emblazoned on the sides. I wormed it back to my seat and slipped it into my carry-on, elated to have scammed such an unusual curio. When I got home and examined the trophy, I turned it over and on the bottom were stamped the following words: “Formerly the property of American Airlines.” Touché.
If you have a question for George, email him at gmahe@stlmag.com. You can also follow him on Twitter @stlmag_dining. For more from SLM, subscribe or follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
Editor's note: This article has been updated from the original version.
