I started my day worrying that today was going to be a tough one. We went to bed too late, I had to be up early. About 6 hours of sleep, which is way to little for me. I’m a 9+ hour a night guy.

So I got to work and jumped right in.

Phone calls go great. Reservations are increasing. They are spread out. Settling in for a busy night.

Things start to spiral around 4:30.

The staff is behind on set up. I’m having trouble wrangling them. We finally gather to meet at 4:35, five minutes late, which ended later than usual.

Then getting candles out took what seemed like 16 hours. Then the men’s restroom had no soap in either dispenser. No one can find the soap. It’s now 4:57, the doors should have opened at 4:45, I have no staff. God knows where they are but they aren’t in the lobby waiting to seat our first turn.

I personally unlock the doors and in comes the first guests.

Hi I need a gift certificate. I send her to the bar.

Hi we have a 5:00 reservation. I get them seated.

The host appears at this point. I trade spots with her.

And at almost the same time Mrs. Samuels walks through the door.

Uh. Oh.

I didn’t even know she was coming in. Her name wasn’t in the book the last time I looked.

She marches in and announces that she is here for her 5:30 reservation. It’s 5:06.

The host explains that it will be a few minutes before we’ll be able to get her seated.

She’s having none of this. She demands that we show her the table. She wants to approve it.

A food runner who is helping us seat takes her to show her the table. Three seconds into the dining room and Mrs Samuels see’s Jen the server. She stops her trip to see the table and demands that Jen be her server. Jen speaks with her briefly and then Mrs. S is shown her table. She once again demands Jen be her server and is led back to the lobby.

I’m watching all of this from afar.

I ask the food runner what she said. She was not happy with the table and demanded Jen be her server. Jen approaches and offers to wait on her. I’m not sold on arranging this. Jen is less excited when she learns she’ll lose a four top if she takes the two of them.

I decide we’ll leave things alone.

I go back to the lobby. Say hi to someone I haven’t seen since I’ve been back. I get a big hug. We chat for a few. I take her to her seats.

I come back and it’s time to seat Mrs Samuels. A server is handed two menus and sent off to seat her.

About 90 seconds there is a scene in the lobby. Mrs. S is at the desk yelling at the host about how she will not sit next to children. She is very angry.

The host started to respond and I stepped in, moved the host aside and addressed Mrs S. I said you aren’t seated next to children, and I’m in the middle of this sentence, when I learn that the sever had taken her to the wrong table.

She is led back into the dining room and is seated.

As she walks away I look at the foursome seated on the sofa and read the woman sitting there’s lips as she says people can be real assholes.

She sees me and I smile and say, I’m sorry did you say something.

She smiles and says I was just saying how much I admire your sofa. It’s very comfortable.

I said, thought that’s why you said. She smiles. I smile. She knows. I know.

About four minutes later it’s time to seat the foursome on the couch, I greet them and ask them to follow me.

The woman takes this opportunity to apologize for the behavior of Mrs S.

We get to their table and guess where they are seated? Right next to Mrs Samuels.

The woman turns to me and says, Seriously???? I said I am but not on purpose.

The night continues.

Table 11 thinks their steak is too small. It’s not. They think their side salad is too small. It’s not.

Bar seats 21 and 22 are angry because I won’t take their reservation for 14 people because 12 is the most we take.

At least four tables are upset because we ran out of chicken parm. At 5:15.

The night never really got better.

HOWEVER.

Every few minutes I catch the woman from the sofas eye and she starts laughing. She is right next to the wait station.

At one point she says I don’t know why I laugh every time I look at you. I reply that my mother always said the same thing.

I go back to my night and in my next circle through the dining room I notice Mrs Samuels has gone.

The woman from the sofa calls me over and proceeds to tell me how difficult Mrs S really was. She sent her drink back. She sent her entree back. She complained about the music volume. She didn’t like anything.

I thank them for being so sweet. And supportive. And I explain that Mrs S wasn’t really that bad. Yes, she yelled but she didn’t make it personal, call me an asshole, or never let it go. So in the big scheme of things I explain sometimes it’s so much worse.

Her husband pipes up at this point, he very handsome if your interested, to say he’s in law enforcement but there’s no way he could my job. He thought what he dealt with was bad. But he’d never want people yelling at him like that.

They leave.

The night continues. It never really gets better.

It ends.

I come home.

Hug Adam. Hug Judy.

Pour a bourbon.

Write a post.

I survived it.

So full disclosure about Mrs Samuels. She is immune compromised. So I understand her want to be separated from people. I understand her not wanting to be near kids. I understand her wanting to protect herself.

However.

Somewhere along the way she decided the way to keep herself safe is to treat everyone like shit. She never explains herself when she makes the reservation. She doesn’t ask for allowances.

She shows up and yells, and demands, and gets mad when we don’t bow to her.

And I know her name. She didn’t make her reservation until 4:30. I didn’t know she was coming till she appeared. At that point it’s too late to adjust things to help her. If only she’d said all of the things she needed before she got there.

I understand her fear, but it doesn’t excuse her behavior.