The Sad Culture of the One-Star Review

This week, I had a very unique experience as a restaurant owner.

I was sitting at the back corner table at one of my locations, as I often do, working on my computer when a couple came in and sat at the table right next to me.

Either they had no clue I was associated with the business they were patronizing, or they were way too confident in their ability to pass judgment, because sitting just a few feet away from me, they began speaking out loud—play by play—about the one-star review they were apparently preparing to leave for my restaurant.

I don't know if their intent in visiting my restaurant was to pass judgment, but it certainly seemed like they were keen on analyzing every facet of something I had spent years building as a service to my community.

"Can you believe how uncomfortable these chairs are?" the woman said to her partner.

"The tables are way too close to the bathrooms," her partner responded.

The complaints continued.

They were frustrated by the inconvenience of having to pour their own coffee at our self-serve station. They weren't fans of our fast-casual style of dining. At the 10-minute ticket mark, one of them got up and went to the counter to check on their food.

When the food finally came out, I was pleasantly surprised to hear them NOT complaining.

There weren't any compliments, mind you, but in this situation, the absence of a complaint basically felt like a five-star review.

As they ate, there was little to no conversation between them. When there was, much of it revolved around comparing their personal experience to other reviews they had already read about my business.

Did this particular experience feel extreme?

Yes. Very.

But the reality is that, as a restaurant owner and operator, the judgment game has become a mainstay in our industry. With the explosion of social media and the ability to broadcast our digital opinions to people all over the world, it seems like EVERYONE has become a critic.

I am not bashful about my incredible disdain for review platforms.

I find them disproportionately unfair to the businesses being reviewed. With keyboard warriors seemingly popping up everywhere, review platforms have helped create a culture where anything short of absolute perfection can suddenly become worthy of public condemnation.

Has my restaurant ever made a mistake?

Oh yeah.

Honestly, we probably get something wrong every single day.

Is it malicious? Of course not.

We are human beings. We make mistakes just like everyone else.

Do I wake up in the morning and tell my staff, "Let's intentionally screw up someone's food order today"?

No.

Do we hold ticket times to an uncomfortable length out of spite?

Of course not.

But to the ardent reviewer, intent doesn't always seem to matter.

Here are just a few actual quotes I have read in one-star reviews over the years:

"This owner doesn't know what he is doing."

"I hope they go out of business."

"You can count on me never coming back."

When harsh criticisms like these hit my inbox, I often find myself frustrated, hurt and, quite frankly, ready to aggressively defend something I have worked so hard to create.

But as I sat there listening to this couple critique my business in real time, I found myself experiencing a completely different emotion.

Sadness.

And surprisingly, not for me.

For them.

Of all the things that came out of their mouths during that meal, what I didn't hear was anything about their lives.

Their day.

Their passions.

Their kids—if they have any.

Their pets.

Their dreams.

The things they were excited about.

The things they were struggling with.

The deepest desires of their souls.

Instead, the conversation was dominated by harsh criticism of a business that was simply doing its best to provide them with a good meal and a good experience.

And that made me sad.

Because in that moment, I realized that if our "review culture" has done anything, perhaps it has caused us to miss out on genuine human interaction in favor of hypercriticism.

The conversation with the person sitting across the table has somehow become less important than our opinion of the food sitting between us.

We no longer simply "meet friends for a cup of coffee or a beer."

Instead, we "try the new spot in town to see if it's worth supporting."

Think about how different those two things are.

Restaurants and bars have historically been gathering places. They are where friendships are strengthened, first dates happen, business ideas are born, birthdays are celebrated, families reconnect and people who haven't seen each other in years sit across a table and pick up right where they left off.

Yet somehow, we have taken an industry built around creating spaces for human connection and turned it into an industry that rises and falls on the public opinions of its customers.

And I wonder if, somewhere along the way, we've lost sight of the greatest gift restaurants, bars and coffee shops give their communities:

A place to genuinely connect with people we love.

That breaks my heart.

So here's a thought.

Go out to eat this week with someone you want to connect with.

Catch up with an old friend.

Take someone on a date.

Grab a beer with someone you haven't seen in a while.

Host a game night with your friends.

Put your phone down.

Talk.

Laugh.

Connect.

And if the food or service isn't absolutely perfect?

Who cares?

You're there for the people.

And doesn't that sound a whole lot more enjoyable than spending your time complaining about the chairs, the placement of the tables, or—God forbid—having to pour your own coffee?

And if, by chance, the restaurant does get it right?

Maybe take a minute and leave them a good review.

Trust me.

They'll appreciate it.

Cheers.