This is Why We Avoid Manhattan on the Weekends


A disgruntled reader has shared with EfV quite an enjoyable rant about the bar at the restaurant Butter, where she recently spent $60 without being allowed to finish a single drink. It’s a lengthy complaint, but it’s worth it, especially when you get to the part where her waiter calls her “Babygirl.”

Dear Eat for Victory:

I recently had a completely crap time at a party at Butter, that sad excuse for a restaurant/bar that occupies the space once filled by Belgo. I had to share.

I bought a Makers on the rocks for $12 at the downstairs bar/club area. This came as no surprise; you don’t go to a place like that and not expect the drinks to be pricey. But when I went back to buy my friend a drink and myself a beer, I put it on my card — only to discover they had a $30 minimum for credit cards. The most I’ve ever heard is $20.

Whatever, I figured. After one more drink here, I’ll probably hit that $30 cap anyway. So I had a few sips of my Corona, put it down on the table that all my friends were seated around, and headed to the bathroom, then back to the bar to get my friend another drink and myself a bottle of water. I close out my tab and find that my friend’s two well drinks had been upped to top shelf status (Huh? Grey Goose?) and that they had tacked on a 20 percent gratuity. Are you kidding? Onto a bar tab for drinks I fetched myself?

I pay, return to the booth and find my BEER NOT THERE. It, like my Maker’s Mark before it, had been cleared before I finished. In the case of the beer, it was after I had had three sips. I go up to a waiter (not mine, but I don’t see mine anywhere) and tell him the situation. He ignores me. I bother him again. He says, “You should have taken it to the bathroom with you.” At the booth that people from my party were already occupying? I don’t recall any table in the shitter specially devoted to your $12 cocktails, dude. And how much time had passed, anyway? A whole 15 minutes? I explain this to him and the manager, and throw in a “this is fucking ridiculous.” Then the manager, some budget Tom Ford fucktard with the corny open collar shirt, turns to me and says “It’s not ridiculous. It’s his job. But I’ll get you a drink to PLEASE YOU.” Wow. Glad you could shell out for the Corona there, stud. What does that cost this bar, a whole 50 cents?

I grab the Corona back from him and walk over to the booth. Concerned Waiter then tracks me down and starts ripping into me. Huh? I can’t recall his rant exactly, but something like “We’re just doing our job here” and “Look — I’m clearing a full drink right now” (indeed he was) and “it’s not even my table, and you come up to me with all this attitude” and “I’m just trying to tell you how it is . . . BABYGIRL.”


Places like this have overpriced booze. I don’t like it, but I get it and expect no less. What I can’t accept is management that won’t even let you finish your drinks (if the waiters were indeed “doing their job” as the manager says, then I blame the manager). During the week, Butter supposedly has celebs occupying these booths. But it’s the weekend, and I guarantee you — Mary Kate and Ashley are nowhere to be found, and me and the rest of the B&T crowd are sucking down every drop.

I spent $60 bucks, and hadn’t even finished one drink. Tell your readers to avoid this place, and maybe they’ll tell their friends to avoid this place, and maybe one day we can get fucking Belgo back.