I work in a very small community.

Everyone knows everyone.

So everyone knows my chef/owner.

Lots of people have his personal cell number.

And they will text him directly for a reservation.

My chef/owner is a super, awesome great guy.

So.

He never says no.

Tonight.

He called me.

On the restaurant phone.

He was in the kitchen.

To ask for a reservation for three.

At the bar.

At 7:00.

If this is your first post from me today, below this you’ll know that the bar was stacked tonight.

I did not have room for three at the bar.

Fun fact.

You can’t say no to chef.

He tells me that he told his friends to just come in.

We’d just figure it out.

Would you believe it, that this doesn’t annoy me. He’s such a great guy. And truth is, as I told Stephanie tonight, it always works out.

So it’s 5:05.

I have two hours to figure this out.

As I told Joe, at one point tonight I looked at the reservations and the numbers started to move and light up like in the movie A Beautiful Mind.

I had my answer.

The Smiths were celebrating their 14th anniversary. I’d move them from the bar to the dining room.

I’d move the Jones’ there.

The Johnson’s’ here.

Suddenly I had three chairs where I didn’t before.

All was good in the world.

It always works out.

And if it doesn’t they yell at me.

Which is why I get the big bucks.

Guess who else was in tonight?

You’ll never guess.

Remember the really attractive girl, who looks like the hostesses in NYC who waited for her date etc? The one who was late for her reservation and used her pouty lip to try and get seated late?

Yeap.

She arrives at 6:30.

1 at the bar.

No reservation.

As you already know. The bar was fucking booked.

Really, really, really booked.

She is not having it.

Pouty lip.

It’s just me.

Pouty lip.

Just one chair.

Pouty lip.

Just me.

Pouty lip.

Can I sit at that empty chair?

Pouty lip.

This goes on.

I tell her we are booked.

She will not take no for an answer.

She wants to know what the wait is.

We don’t run a wait.

Pouty lip.

She finally looks at me, says she’s going to wait and sits down in the lobby.

Fuck.

I finally get her seated around 7:30.

But of course not where she wants.

I tell her she can’t move because the reservation is coming in for The Patriots game.

20 minutes she’s canoodling with Mr Burns from the Simpson’s who was seated beside her.

Fun fact.

Plus.

1.

Does not equal two when discussing reservations.

Our bar was booked tonight.

Saturday in August booked.

Fairly tight turns. Everything needing to move.

There was no room for error tonight.

So.

When Beverley walked in for her 1 top reservation at 5:45 saying she was 2 people I panicked.

Uh. Oh.

I explained that she only booked 1.

She says she booked 1. Her friend booked 1. What was the problem?

Anyone want to guess?

Yes. Not a problem. I had both reservations.

It was only a problem if they wanted to sit together.

She seemed perplexed.

I said, Give me a second.

I Looked. And looked.

And realized I could seat them together if they were up in 60 minutes.

I tell her this.

She agrees.

I clarify.

She seems confused.

I explain that I said the same thing a week ago and the two ladies stayed five hours.

She promises.

I seat her.

Her friend arrives ten minutes later.

I tell him what we’ve agreed to.

He agrees. He’s a regular.

He actually left before her.

She left two minutes late.

Whew!

Crisis averted.

Fun fact.

On Thursday’s there is sports balls on tv.

How do I know this?

Because Joe watches said sports balls while cooking. He also talks about said sports balls. And something about fantasizing about quarterbacks and tight ends.

Joe is our executive sous chef. He’s also the guy who got me the job. We used to work together elsewhere.

Also our kitchen is set up so all the chefs have a clear view of three large screen TVs. They always know the score.

So.

Tonight I asked Joe a vague question about the game tonight. I was interested because the bar was crazy booked.

He said yes it was expected to be a good game.

So I took his ambiguous answer to my ambiguous question and ran with it.

I proceeded to tell people all night the bar was booked because everyone was coming in to watch the expected great game tonight being played by The Patriots.

I probably said this 15 times.

This is a long way of saying that if the people didn’t know I was gay…

they do now.

Well. Well. Well.

Guess who walked through the front door tonight.

Remember the bad review I get three or so weeks ago.

Remember the guy who publicly claimed he’d never be back.

Remember how he said I was an asshole.

Yeap.

Rolled in promptly for the 730 reservation at 7:55.

Pretended not to know me. Tried to engage the bartender about the less than friendly host at the door. The host who actually went out of the way to make sure you and your friends were able to sit together. The host who only said hello when you entered.

Yeah.

That guy. Sporting his reddest of red hats. On backwards of course. Guess what was written on the front of the hat?

It clearly told us everything we needed to know about him.

And of course.

Nothing was right.

Somehow, my stellar bar staff who waits on more people than any other persons in the building made not 1, not 2, but 3 mistakes.

I don’t buy it.

They also stayed forever when we should have been on our way home at 9:30.

We’ll see if he writes another review.

PS. He didn’t touch me tonight. But he did rub his hand down the shoulder of the server who sat him. She was not amused.