In 2007, Sister Lioness was scheduled to have her high school senior prom at a South Florida hotel called the Marriott Marina. When the hotel was bought out and rebranded as the Harbor Beach Resort, the contract was honored. It was just the right thing to do. Our wedding venue, Anthony's Fine Dining, did not think this was entirely necessary. Apparently, they just weren't as concerned with respect for a bride's big day, a commitment to doing the right thing, or general public image.
Our wedding venue went out of business just a couple of weeks after our wedding day. They sold to a new owner and became the semi-private Yacht and Polo Club, which I found interesting because there are neither yacht docks nor polo fields on their property. The classic antebellum home was once decorated with vintage furniture, antique art, and Southern charm. Just imagine the retching in brides' stomachs when they arrived to this venue for their rehearsal to unexpectedly find riding chaps and oars lining the walls. Surprise! You're having a gentleman-themed wedding!
In addition to a significant change in decor, the venue has also lost their liquor license. Another surprise! You get to buy your own alcohol and find people to serve it...at the last minute! These disasters seem like tiny inconveniences compared to the thousands of dollars lost on deposits. Oh yes, the previous owner allegedly took the money and ran.
This story has been all over the boards over here...in fact, it's been all over most wedding sites' boards. It was also discussed on
The Bert Show, one of Atlanta's most beloved morning radio shows, and it was covered on Atlanta's
Channel 2 News.
I was lucky. The Lioness wedding was one of the last weddings held prior to this disastrous transition.
Our wedding day was wonderful, and everything went smoothly despite encountering some
horrible customer service from Anthony's just two weeks earlier. However, I was disappointed with how everything was executed post-wedding.
First of all, we were promised doggie bags and never received them. Sure, it sounds petty, but when you spend that much money on food, you expect to take some with you. Fortunately, I made it a point to eat during the reception, so I was able to fully enjoy my entree. However, we never received hors d'oeuvres from cocktail hour, as we were taking pictures during that time. Our guests rave to this day about these fried cheese grits dumplings that were served; we will never have the privilege of trying them. I will concede the fact that Anthony's boxed up our leftover cake.
Our contract also listed that final payment would be based on consumption. Of course, our balance was due prior to the wedding, so I asked for clarification during these negotiations. Both Anthony's business manager (at the time) and their day-of coordinator responded that they "almost always give money back, because no one drinks as much as you think they will." I know we had some pretty tipsy guests, but I highly doubt they consumed as much as we paid for. Nonetheless, we did not see a dime post-wedding.
What got to me most of all was the fact that we left some items at the venue: our ladder, our chuppah,
my vintage chair, and a hammer. Our day-of coordinator assured us that we could pick them up whenever it was convenient for us. I trusted her, so I didn't worry about it. When we returned from our honeymoon, I emailed Anthony's to arrange for pick up. No response. I gave it another week before I sent another email. Again, no response. When I didn't hear back from my
third email, I decided to call. A recording stated that Anthony's was no longer in business. I decided that the only way to get my stuff back was to speak to them in person.
The banquet office door was locked, so I decided to let myself in through a different door. I tracked down the day-of coordinator, who seemed less than thrilled to see me. (Oh heyyyy, I was totally going to email you back?) I told her that I just wanted my stuff back, and she responded by saying, "I think we might have thrown it out."
Ladders and hammers are replaceable, so I wasn't worried about those. Our chuppah, however, had received a few offers from potential buyers. More importantly, I wanted the lace from the top of the chuppah. We got married underneath that lace, and I wanted to use it as matting in a framed letterpress print of our vows. And the chair! Oh, I wanted the chair.
I informed her that I was going to look around until I found at least the chair and the lace. She walked away to "help me look," saying that she was pretty sure I wouldn't find much. I shouted after her, "Oh yes I will! I want my blue chair back! I WANT MY BLUE CHAIR BACK!" a la Damien from Mean Girls, requesting a certain pink shirt.
I found the chair and the lace, and headed for my car. But not before the day-of coordinator could reunite with me and confront me about a less than stellar review I had given them on
Wedding Wire...something about a cupcake incident. The last thing I wanted to do at this point was discuss The Cupcake Incident (which has now earned capitalization)
again, so I simply said, "You should be grateful for the feedback." And I got the capital F out of there.
Venues, schedule an appointment with your brides about a month or two after the wedding to tie up loose ends. Your referrals are so crucial to your business; it is absolutely crucial to provide the best possible customer service from the very beginning to even after the wedding. Brides, when you negotiate your contract with any vendor, inquire about a back-up plan. I don't mean to scare anyone, but it's rough out there. It can never hurt to ask about something like a "recession clause." You never know what may be going on behind the scenes. For example, this photo was taken at our photo booth. Since those polo props weren't mine, I can only assume the transition had already begun.
