I’m annoyed just thinking about the people I’m about to write about.

First.

We are still busy. Not August busy but way busier than post IPD business. We did 70 more people tonight than we did a year ago today. I was turning people away at the door tonight.

As you’ve heard before we take reservations at the bar. So when a gentleman walked in tonight at 5:00 without a reservation it took a minute but there was a single stool at seat 11 I could give him.

About six minutes later, two women walked in. I told them I could seat them, but I’d need their stools back at 7:00. An hour, fourty-five to have drinks and dinner. More than enough time.

I seat them at stools 13/14. Tell the bartender that their clock is ticking so he can keep things moving. Go back to the desk.

About an hour later the man comes up to ask when he needs to be up. I explain that his chair is the only one without a reservation at all tonight. He wants to know about seat 12. Next to the woman. I explain yes it has to be open at 7:00 for a three top. He sits back down.

The evening continues.

7:00 is approaching and I don’t usually get involved. The guests were told when they were seated. The bartender was told when they were seated.

I’ve already moved the reservation that’s where the two women are, replacing it with a 7:15 reservation.

At 7:00 I’m walking back to the host stand, when the women stop me to ask if they really have to leave. I tell them I’ve done what I can but yes.

They get whiney. Like five year old who wants more Halloween candy whiney.

I explain the situation and go back to the desk.

About 45 seconds the short one is in front of me.

She says, when did you start taking reservations. The last time my husband and I were here we just walked in.

I say over a year and half ago and I assure you that in the last four months your husband and you did not just walk in.

She walks back her statement.

The conversation continues.

She’s basically saying it’s unfair they have to leave.

It’s been 2:20 since they arrived at this point.

Then she proceeds to say that she’s just upset about how I told her they had to leave when I sat them.

Oh.

Now it’s my fault that your married friend is flirting with the not very attractive man at the bar and you both want to stay.

I say the following statement ten times a night.

Yes, I can get you seated but I need your table/stools back by7:00.

Ten times a night. It’s not rude. It’s not inappropriate. It me accommodating your failure to make a reservation in advance.

Also.

If you’d made the reservation online the app says to restrict your visit to two hours to allow us to welcome more guests.

No, I’m not rude.

I’ve moved more things around.

They have a 7:45 reservation on the stools now. And the people have arrived and are waiting to be seated.

The only reason I didn’t have a real situation was that a couple over heard the conversations and offered to leave.

The women ended up leaving at 9:45. With the man, who’d been feeling up the married friend for the last 90 minutes.

I might say that the reason I called him unattractive had nothing to do with physical attributes.

He was my age. With a baseball hat on backwards. Shirt unbuttoned a little to much. He was loud. He used the f bomb a lot. And was kind of creepy.

They stayed for 4.5 hours when they promised 1.45 was enough.

Which makes me think to myself, next time I will think twice before offering bar patrons a chance to eat when I need their stools back by 7:00.

The phone continues to be a source of amusement. I say amusement because annoyance is soooo negative.

I pick up the phone today.

A woman on the other end says, I’d like to make a reservation.

What day I ask.

Sunday she says.

What time I continue.

She says, some time around DINNER TIME.

I put the phone down. Took a breath.

And said. Can you be more specific?

What the fuck time is dinner time. If it’s Adam and I you won’t eat till 10:30. If its the folks at the retirement home you’ll eat at 4:30. We aren’t open at either of those time.

I don’t remember where we ended up.

I made the reservation, thanked her and told her I’d see her tomorrow.

Around dinner time

I live 45 minutes from work.

In the morning, excuse me, afternoon, when I drive to work I listen to the radio. Coast 93.1. Current pop music. Gay funny morning host. When I leave for work, the 90’s at noon segment is playing. PS. Adele’s new song is pretty awesome.

On my drive home at night I like to talk to my friends who stay up late or live on the west coast. It’s a chance to catch up, share our lives etc.

Tonight I called my friend Donna, because I wanted to hear about her recent trip to Paris. I love Paris and wanted to share stories.

However, Donna was more interested in my new job and my Facebook posts. As we chatted I was trying to explain why I started writing.

This was the conclusion I came to.

The first few were to share the ridiculousness of crazy people. But it’s evolved into so much more. (I just typed involved into). It’s late. I’m tired.

It’s evolved into so much more.

I love my job.

But it’s very different than my other management jobs. We aren’t open for lunch so I don’t go in early. It also means that I work all the night shifts. I was used to my schedule being spread between lunches and dinners. Now my schedule is essentially 1:30 to 10:00 or 12:00 depending on the night.

This isn’t bad. I am a night person by nature. I’ve always stayed up late. I hate mornings. My alarm goes off at 11:30 these days.

The one thing that is not fun is that Adam and I don’t see each other a lot. I’m off Mondays and Tuesdays. He’s off Tuesdays and Wednesdays. When I leave for work on Wednesday I really won’t see him again until Monday night. He’s gone when I get up. He’s in bed when I get home. We’ve always had different schedules but it’s really different now.

Adam and I also have the same jobs. We are each other’s advocate. We are each other’s champion. When he comes home after a difficult service I get it. When I come home with a situation with an employee he gets it. He coaches me on being more gentle. I helped coach him through his first firing.

Point is, we need each other to do our jobs. To celebrate the good. To get through the bad.

But I don’t have that now. We talk for about 30 seconds each day. When we can. But that’s how he knows that I need him to pick up the prescription for the cat and he reminds me to leave a check on the door for oil delivery. We only get to talk work for about six minutes all week.

This has been a long way of saying that you’ve all become my Adam. The person I can vent to. Can you really believe he wanted me to comp his steak after eating it all? Can you believe the audacity of the woman who yelled because she reserved a table outside?

I also celebrate my wins with you. Record nights. Grateful guests. Wonderful employees.

So by default you’ve become my mid week boyfriend. And I appreciate all of you. You remind me to be kind to myself. To take deep breaths. To do the right thing. You remind me to own my mistakes. To be proud of my restaurant. To be the best manager I can be.

So thank you for your support.

Encouragement.

Kindness.

Love.

Sometimes I pick up my phone to write and think, what the fuck do I have to say tonight?

Yes I type these on my phone. So please take that into consideration when judging my grammar, punctuation, etc.

Sometimes I say to myself, is it better to write a less stellar post or to skip a post for the evening altogether?

I don’t know the answer.

As for tonight, I was going to write about the regular , whose mother came in at 2 minutes before closing asking if they could sit. I said yes, then we find out that he was on a conference call and didn’t come in to sit down for 15 minutes. They then were still sitting at the bar at 10:45. They’d been the only people in the building for 90 minutes.

Yes. I was going to give my opinion of this but instead I’m going to write about my favorite guests tonight.

First was a good friend of mine who has helped me greatly in my new job who came in to celebrate the new job she’d just accepted.

There was hot dad, as my female staff likes to call him, who was overly gracious that we saved his reservation when traffic in Boston caused him to be more than an hour late for his reservation. He really is attractive.

There was another table of friends, who were regulars from David’s that came in to visit. It was amazing to see them for the first time at my new job.

There was the couple celebrating their 30th anniversary who were debating about whether to sit at the table they reserved or the bar. I convinced them the table was the way to go and they loved it.

There was the server who used to work with me at David’s who came in with her family. She shared photos of kittens we should adopt and who wouldn’t love that.

There was the man who was here for a couple of days who I shared stories of the kismet of having the right job choose you that changes the trajectory of your life.

There was the couple from Oklahoma City who I discussed tornadoes with since the weather has been horrible there lately. The man knew cows and beef and could not stop telling me what a genius our chef is!!!

There were friends of the chef who came in, who’ve become friends of mine. We shared stories of travel, drinking, and working too much.

Another friend from David’s who comes in weekly that loves to share how much she likes my work posts.

There were the two women who came in who were both a little large and discreetly shared that they didn’t want a booth. I know the feeling. I moved things around and gave them one of the best tables in the restaurant.

There was the couple from Houston who were celebrating his taking his medical boards. He explained that he doesn’t test well and renewing his boards has caused months of anxiety. He took the test and immediately left to celebrate with no idea if he passed or not. They were so lovely.

This is what my everyday life is like. Every night I hear stories. I probably talk too much but I love the stories. I love to hear how much people love the restaurant, our little town, our little state. I’ve made so many new friends. I’ve also staved off bad situations by engaging our guests as the enter and leave.

So never think my job isn’t rewarding. Never think I don’t like what I do. It’s so amazing to go to work and help people enjoy their their vacations.

Life really is good.

Music.

Every restaurant since the beginning of time has a different vibe.

Even restaurants that serve similar types of food have different experiences. Whether style of service, music, decor, food.

Music is definitely a defining element in a lot of restaurants. Sometimes it’s background. Sometimes it’s live. Sometimes it’s classical. Sometimes it’s pop.

Every owner, manager, designer has a reason for why they play what they play. Sometimes the music is different night to night depending who’s controlling it. But there’s always a reason.

My owner is very specific about what he wants. He has a list of stations that we play. All the stations are similar. All variations on electronic chill playlists. They are fun. Upbeat. Solid bass.

The music has a definite driving beat.

It’s also not background music. The music is loud and sets the atmosphere in the dining room. It creates an up beat energy. It lets you know that this is not your fine dining experience from 1972.

I love turning on the music at 4:45 every night.

It’s the call for places.

The lights are lowered. The candies are lit. The actors are in place. The music begins.

And just like that the curtain goes up (by that I mean the doors are unlocked) and the show begins.

I’ve felt this energy every day since I’ve started. It is unlike any other restaurant I’ve worked in. It’s this amazing energy that consumes the building.

The first guests arrive. They are seated.

The show has begun.

The energy continues to build until we seat the last guests. And then gradually quietens as the guests complete their dinners and begin to leave.

Quieter and quieter.

Until it’s just the staff.

Curtain call.

At the end it’s just the dim lights. The candles. The thump of the music.

At the end we are only left with the ghost lights. The glow of the lights from the cooler, the exit signs, the parking lot.

Just like that.

The show is over.

You know what absolutely no one tells you as you embark on the role of restaurant manger?

That you have to literally know everything.

About everything.

I often wonder if there’s a class about this in restaurant management school.

Seriously though.

You have to have the obvious leadership skills. You have to know accounting. It helps to know basic culinary skills.

Things they don’t tell you.

You need a PhD in psychology for all the relationship advice you will give.

You’ll need a PhD in chemistry so that you can get an oil stain off a silk blouse when your new server spills salad dressing down the back of their first guest.

Let’s not forget a computer science degree from MIT to keep your POS going on Saturday night of the busiest night of the year.

You’ll need to be a licensed plumber to diagnose and remedy the awful smell coming from the women’s room.

Three restaurants. Same problem.

A medical degree helps when your new host OD’s in the office while filling out his new hire paper work.

A certificate in small appliance repair when the coffee maker and glass washer both stop working. At the same time.

A licensed electrician when the breaker keeps tripping that controls the sockets where the band plugs in.

A sound design degree when the speakers keep feeding back when the groom is trying to toast his bride.

Why am I posting this?

Because when something goes wrong everyone comes running asking you to fix it.

It’s always an emergency.

Oh no!!

The music has stopped.

There’s no coffee

The hoods are off.

A server cut their hand in the kitchen.

And tonight.

The bar printer isn’t working.

It’s 5:15. We’ve sat two tables. Two drink orders. Both printed at the back up printer.

Oh. No.

This breeds panic as the last time this happened, twenty minutes later the whole POS was fucked.

In 16 seconds, five servers let me know the bar printer is not working.

Oh. No.

I go into my phone booth.

Strike that.

I spin around and around and become Wonder Woman and put on my IT hat.

I go to the bar.

My first thought? Does it have paper? But no that is not the problem. It’s something so much more complex.

Oh no.

Can it be fixed?

Someone has turned it off.

Seriously.

I flip the switch.

A bright light shines down from the heavens.

Actually it’s just the green power light.

All is good in the world.

I go back to the door.

Did I mention that I’m also a host?

When I was in fourth grade a classmate asked me to come to his houses one Saturday. This was a big deal to me because I never got asked to come to someone’s house.

So Saturday arrived, and I was dropped off.

I don’t remember much about the day. I do remember it was chilly. He wanted to play outside. I wanted to play a game, Mousetrap if I remember correctly. We ended up outside at his mothers suggestion.

At some point my parents arrived to pick me up. I reluctantly got into the car saying I wish I could stay longer.

My mother turned and said, “you never want to over stay your welcome.” I had no idea what this meant till years later, but I remember her saying it vividly.

It was true then.

It’s still true.

Know when to leave.

Even at a restaurant.

Tonight three ladies showed up at the door at 5:00. They wanted to sit at the bar. Unfortunately, I couldn’t sit the three of them together.

But.

A reservation for 5:00 had cancelled.

I gave the women this table.

And back to seating people I went.

And as 7:00 approached I watched as they continued to sit at the table. Even though they were finished.

7:00 came and went. And they continuited to sit.

7:30 approached and they continued to sit.

By this time the server has lost two opportunities for a 4 top. And I’ve had to move people around to tables they didn’t want to keep things moving.

They finally got up around 7:40. Having been finished with their meal almost 45 minutes.

This happens a lot.

Sometimes they sit for two hours after they have finished their meal.

It also happens a lot at the end of the night with people thinking that because we close at 8:30 it doesn’t matter.

Fun fact: we take our last reservation at 8:30. Especially in the summer. So while you sit, the smiths are in the lobby still hungry.

When in doubt ask the server if they need your table. Ask if you can move to bar or cocktail area.

Years ago we sat a table at 5:15. A 30ish couple. At 8:45 I approached the table and explained if they wanted dinner they’d have to order now as we closed at 9:00. I don’t remember if they ordered. Just that they sat for 4 hours without ordering.

Tonight was summer time busy. The last big hurrah as we begin the descent into fall and winter.

You know it was summer time busy because several people were summertime difficult. Nothing horrible, just a little outside the norm.

I had tonight’s post in my head until a server walked up to me at 10:00 for a comp.

I asked why we were comping this piece of apple pie and she proceeded to explain.

Table 21 finished their meal and was offered dessert. She recited the menu and then gave them a few minutes to think about it.

They ordered. A cup of strawberry ice cream, apple pie, chocolate cake.

When the desserts were delivered a gentleman at the table said, oh we’re just kidding about the apple pie.” She asked for clarification and he repeated. He was just kidding about the apple pie.

When she started to ask how she’d have known he was kidding, he interrupted and said:

Don’t argue with me little girl!

She removed the apple pie.

She was beyond angry.

I don’t blame her.

I comped the pie. And then explained to her that should anyone ever speak to her like that again to get me involved.

First, I would NOT have comped the pie. You order. You pay.

Second I would have let him know that speaking to my staff like that would not be tolerated.

Seriously. Who says that to anyone? Especially a stranger.

It’s easy to focus on the bad when making posts. They make for more dramatic stories and sometimes it seems like there are more of those.

But every once in a while, as I’ve posted before, special people walk through the door and make your evening.

Tonight around 7:30 a gentleman walked through the door to check in for his reservation. I welcomed him, marked him as arrived, and explained that his reservation was for the patio.

Unlike the five or six tables tonight who were angry to find this out he looked at me as said, “is that what I booked?”

Yes. It is.

I don’t suppose you have anything inside.

At this point I usually push for them to go outside for a few reason.

We have staff outside that are counting on the covers to pay their rent.

We are often full inside and have no other option.

More often than not the people are rude and deserve to be cold.

This man gently ask if there was anything. And then explained his elderly mother in law was with him and she couldn’t be out in the cold.

I ask him to give me a second.

I look.

All I have is a large table that seats 12.

I ask him if that will be okay.

He says yes and in two minutes, he’s brought his family in and has been seated at the VERY large table.

As I turn to leave he shakes my hand with a folded bill in it. I pocket the bill and walk away.

90 minutes or so later their server appears telling me that the table is asking for me.

I approach them and ask how their meal was.

They rave about dinner.

They then say that they are in love with Maine and are wishing they didn’t have to leave tomorrow.

I ask if they are thinking about moving here.

Seems they have been in New England for almost two weeks driving around Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine thinking about where they’d like to live. They are currently living in LA. and are looking for a place to move.

They ask how I got here.

I tell our story about our friends Michelle and Lisa. About coming to visit. About convincing Adam to move. About moving six months early. About writing a check we couldn’t cover for our first apartment. About struggling the first year. About the magical things that have happened since we’ve lived here.

I tell them about traffic that extends my commute by four minutes. I tell them about the mall for when you need a candle from bath and body works. I tell them about the food. The wonderful food. I tell them about mall food. I tell them to rent until they know where they want to live. I tell them about the beauty that is living in Maine.

They tell me about being up north earlier in the day and people being rude to them while they were getting gas and snacks. I ask if they were wearing masks and explain that Maine is red in the north. Blue in the south.

I tell them about real estate prices since COVID. About South Portland being one of the most sought after areas in the country.

They ask lots of questions. I give them lots on answers. He works for the academy of motion pictures. She works in construction.

Both can get jobs here.

I have these conversations so much more than I used to. And I love sharing the wonder that is Maine. Relocating here. Life on the other side of big city living.

They ask about snow.

N’or Easters.

Winter.

The ocean.

Skiing.

Commuting.

We talk for about 30 minutes. My staff hates when this happens because I’m not around to do comps and voids and cash outs.

We all shake hands.

I give them my card. Which excites the wife because we have Moo brand business cards. They are very nice business cards. They are extra thick. Super expensive.

We all say goodbye and I go back to find the burger I was cooked for dinner is cold but still delicious.

They were wonderful people.

Which reminds me why I like my job.

We are a restaurant in the northeast. It gets cold here.

We have a patio. It gets cold out there.

And.

Long before I started the owner made the decision not to have heaters. I agree with him 1,00000000%.

For many reasons.

First.

It’s expensive. Our patio is huge. We’d have to have 20 heaters to be useful.

It’s a a full time job keeping them full and exchanged. Someone has to do this.

They are never in the right place so you turn your back and some aggressive dude is moving one across the patio.

Someone is cold. The table next to them is hot. So your server who should be taking an order, running food, getting a check spends 20 minutes trying to make everyone happy.

You have to have a place to store these 20 heaters when winter finally arrives.

Seriously it’s a pain in the ass.

And every day someone marches up to the host stand to tell me how shameful it is that we expect people to sit out there with no heat.

Fun fact. We don’t expect you to sit outside. You chose to sit out there. You could have chosen an indoor reservation but you did not.

Also. Our business. Our choice on how to spend our money.

Fun fact: It’s Maine. It’s fucking cold 11.5 months a year. Wear a coat. Bring a blanket. A hat. Gloves.

But don’t become indignant.

And.

When you get here and realize there are no heaters—leave.

We don’t mind. People do it all the time.

That’s all!