We were busy tonight. The busiest we’ve been since last October. We were also down a host. So I had to spend more time at the door than usual.

At around 7:10 I’m at the host stand trying to get our reservations sat. The host is seating. I’m at the door.

A man walks up and asks if we have a sommelier.

The following is just my opinion:

The people who ask if we have a sommelier are not REAL wine people. If they were they’d look at our wine list, see that we only have a handful of wines over $100 and know that we don’t have a sommelier. They’d also know, that a restaurant our size, couldn’t afford a sommelier with our volume and prices.

Don’t get me wrong. We have a perfectly respectable wine list. But it’s meant to be approachable. It’s also meant to be affordable. We do have a few things on our list for the more adventurous or wealthy diner.

So I’m approached and asked if we have a sommelier. I explain we do not. And I ask if I can help.

He say’s, well what do you recommend?

Remember, I’m at the host stand. Trying to get people seated.

And I’ve just been asked what I recommend.

No questions about varietals. No mention of what they are eating. No mention of anything.

I recommend the Sutter Home White Zinfandel if your having the rib basket at Applebees. I’d recommend a sparkling rose if you’re sitting by the pool in August. I recommend a big bold Cabernet if you’re having a well done Wagyu tomahawk ribeye. I recommend a Sauvignon Blanc if your date stood you up. I recommend a bourbon neat if you’ve been at work 4 hours and you’re being asked crazy questions.

I ask him where he’s seated explaining that I’ll send someone to answer his questions.

He says, his servers already been there. Could I get someone to help him here.

Here’s standing in front of wine storage.

I say give me a second and I’ll see what I can do.

I now have a line at the door.

I go back to hosting. 10 minutes pass. He’s still there.

More hosting.

10 more minutes. He’s still there.

The truth is. My bartenders are buried. I’m buried. His server is his best hope but he’s not going back to his table.

I finally look up and he’s going outside.

I have no idea why.

A couple of minutes later he’s back.

Still waiting.

I ask the host to cover the door.

A round the corner to try and help him.

I apologize for the delay. Explain we are busy.

And he exhales and begins to ask questions.

The exhale has covered me in cigarette smoke. It’s in my eyes. My mouth. My nose. I can’t breathe. I can’t talk. I’m distracted.

He’s concerned that we don’t list vintages on the menu.

I explain we’ve had supply issues and we have to accept what’s available.

He asks about the reserve list. I explain they are on the menu.

He then asks about the not on the menu list?

I tell him I have no idea what he’s talking about.

He points to some masking tape on the wine cooler and says what’s what? The tape says off menu….

Seriously. We don’t have a secret menu. It’s marked so the servers can find what they need.

He asks about an Argentine wine I’ve never heard of.

I say as much.

THEN.

He asks if I know anything about wine.

It’s taken as the insult he meant it as.

I look at him and say just enough to be dangerous.

He’s annoyed.

I’m still tasting cigarettes.

And he’s now been away from his table for 30 minutes trying to impress someone.

He leaves.

I’m still tasting the lovely aromatic tastes of Marlboro Reds.

They ended up ordering a moderately priced wine.

That paired perfectly with Camel Lights.

On Thursday night, around 8:45 a car pulled into the parking lot. This is very late for us during the winter especially during the week.

A woman comes in and asks if we are still serving. I apologize and explain we are not. She then asks who might be serving at 9:00 on a Thursday, in February in a coastal New England town.

I list off a few places having no idea who is even still serving at all, let alone at 9:00. She asks a few other questions and I tell her to hold on a second. I pull up a restaurant on the iPad. I call them. Nope. They’ve closed for the night. I call another. And another.

I finally found a restaurant that was open till 10:00. I tell the woman the name, address, and how to get there.

She’s so grateful. As she leaves I tell her to make sure to come back and see us over the weekend.

At 8:00 tonight she walked in with her husband. They had seats at the bar. She is super excited to be back.

She’s also very grateful for us finding them food on Thursday. When they’d gotten to the restaurant they were well taken care of.

She and her husband couldn’t express enough how grateful they were that we’d gone out of our way to help them.

I assure them, that we love our jobs, and helping people is what we do.

They were sat at 8:00. They stayed till after 11:00. They were the last to leave. But they made friends with everyone. Their neighbors at the bar. David the bartender said they were some of the nicest people he’d ever waited on.

They also had a big dinner. They ordered a Wagyu tomahawk ribeye for dinner. The steak is $165. They got it well done. Approved by the chef. They loved it. And took some home to their daughter.

As they were leaving they asked about coming back in the summer with a large party to sit in one of our private rooms.

I gave them my card and told them to call me and I’d take care of them. I asked them their names again.

They told me. Their last name happens to be the same last name of a drug kingpin on a show I love. I made that comment and they laughed. I told them when they called to just tell me the were the drug lords from the show and I’d know exactly who they were.

The point of the story is that I love when amazingly wonderful people come in. People so nice that you’ll remember them 6 months from now. It makes all the ugly people disappear off the map.

So thank you.