Allergies.

Allergies are like service dogs.

You never know if the guest will actually die if they eat a peanut or if they just hate the texture.

Unfortunately, people are willing to lie to get what they want.

Reminds me of working in NYC waiting on two women. One of them was vegan. The Hard Rock Cafe was not known for its vegan choices, but after what seemed like an eternity I had an order.

It arrived. She ate it. All was good.

After I cleared their dishes, I came by to ask about dessert.

She immediately ordered the apple cobbler with vanilla ice cream. And upon delivery devoured the entire thing on her own.

Tonight, a server had a table of four sat in the second turn. She greeted them and discovered that one of the men had a shellfish allergy.

As I mentioned you can’t ask how severe, you can’t ask for qualifications. You accept it as truth. And everything that this person is served will be treated with care. Special pan, multiple changes of gloves, garnishes and sides equally cautious.

The server took the order. Speficied what the man ordered and noted a shellfish allergy on each of his items.

The food is prepared. And delivered. Everything as it was ordered.

The server comes over to check the table and discovers that the man has traded plates with one of his friends.

The server, excitedly explains that she cannot guarantee that the other items on the table are allergen free. And points out that the French fries he is eating are definitely cross contaminated as they are cooked in oil used for fried seafood.

He becomes irate, and demands to know why why everything on the table wasn’t allergen free and insists that the server was careless.

And this kids is why we can’t have nice things.

If your allergy is that severe you have to let us know. There are people that sensitive. But they don’t forget to tell you. They know they’ll die if they don’t.

They never forget.

We are very much a grown up restaurant.

Very much.

Our reservation site says so.

No kids menu.

No high chairs.

No booster seats.

No changing tables.

Grown ups.

We don’t go as far as to say don’t bring your kids, but we want everyone to know that if they bring little Jaxzon, or little Karleighe to dinner there are no chicken fingers. No mac and cheese. No grilled cheese.

Actually this past summer we had a father get angry when he was told the chef would NOT put a piece of cheese on a hamburger bun and heat up.

I actually told the server next time tell the guest, it’s considered a cheeseburger, no burger. We can do it but it’s still the same price.

We have no problem with kids.

We get lots and lots and lots of kids.

And if your kid likes food they are going to love our restaurant. We have regulars whose kids eat their own ribeye, their own octopus, their own swordfish.

Tonight around 5:15 I answer the phone.

It’s a woman asking to make a reservation.

I ask the date and the number of people.

March 19, 8 guests. 2 high chairs.

I ask her to clarify.

8 guests plus 2 high chairs or 8 guests including 2 high chairs.

Plus 2 high chairs.

So you have ten people yes?

I take the reservation and explain that I can’t guarantee the high chairs. We have only two and they are first come first serve.

She says okay.

Hangs up.

About 7:30 the phone rings again.

It’s the same woman. She wants to know if she can reserve the high chairs.

I explain again that unfortunately they are offered on a first come first serve basis.

She gets annoyed.

Stammers.

And then finally says she’s going to have to cancel the reservation.

I say okay, cancel the reservation.

She’s waiting for a response but unfortunately it’s the restaurant we have.

…….

…….

Click.

As I mentioned a couple of days ago it’s hunting season.

I’ve posted ads for all front of house positions.

I’m getting 7 or 8 replies a day.

However, no one tells you what they are applying for. Host? Food runner? Server?

And you can’t tell. I’ll reach out to someone about being a food runner who only had life guard experience but they tell me no. They want to be a server.

I also have big questions about how to reach out to prospects. I mostly do email. But guess what? 17 year olds don’t check their email. I try phone calls but even the adults have voice mails that are full or not set up. I don’t text, because I don’t want to use my personal cell number. So I’m stuck.

Today I decided I’d try phone calls.

I leave messages for 4 different applicants.

Only one called back.

Before service.

I left the messages around 1:30.

Tonight at 7:00the phone rings. I’d glanced at caller ID at the same time I hit answer. I knew what was coming.

Hi, this is Dorothy. You left a message for me earlier in the day.

I have a line of people at the door. I have a surprise party to execute. And now I have an applicant who wants to chat about an interview.

I tell myself be calm.

And the. I explain we are in service and I will call her back tomorrow.

And I will.

And I’ll end up hiring her.

And six weeks she’ll understand why she shouldn’t have called at 7:00.

We have lots and lots and lots of regulars.

Only 10 of them were in tonight. In fact I only recognized four names on the list tonight.

Two of them, are Saturday night regulars.

Older, nondescript couple who usually dine at 5:00, came in tonight with friends at 7:00.

Well.

Their reservation was at 7:00. Four of the 6 showed up at 6:10.

They were early to get a drink and get seated before their other friends because it was a surprise birthday celebration.

It would have been nice to know this.

It’s 6:10. The bar is full. The people who are currently seated at their table have just gotten entrees and are going nowhere fast.

The finally get seated in the lobby, where one of the men is simply not taking no for an answer about the bar.

Finally, around 6:40, their future server catches her breath and gets them a drink order.

All is well.

Except.

We are fast approaching 7:00. Their table still hasn’t turned and we have been told they are very disappointed that this surprise isn’t going to be a surprise. VERY DISAPPOINTED!!!

I really have no idea what to do. I’m not going to rush a table that is perfectly on time. I had no idea about the surprise. And there are a million ways this could have been planned better

Tick. Tick. Tick.

They finally move from the lobby to the couch just inside from the lobby. I close the lobby curtains so if their friend comes in he won’t see them.

It’s approaching 7:00. Now the lobby is filling up with people who need to be seated. Which is being slowed down by the breath down my neck about their table getting up.

The wife of the birthday surprise couple comes in. Ugh. I explain that she needs to push her husband into the corner and not let him move when he comes in from parking the car.

It’s 7:01.

I look up and their table is leaving.

I grab a food runner and tell I need the table cleaned and set in 6 seconds.

I grab the bartender and get her to get the Prosecco the table wants open on the table, I grab the host and have her help facilitate the final touches.

Meanwhile the original 4 are standing outside the room waiting for all to be finished.

They sit. One of the men asks if he should request the Prosecco from the server, I move aside and the bartender sets the glasses and bottle on the table. He’s impressed. As she moves away the server picks up the bottle and begins to open it. As she starts to pour another server arrives with an ice bucket. I whisper to their server, come to the door when it’s poured.

She arrives at the host stand about two minutes later, I ask the surprise wife the name on her reservation, because it’s not the real name, she tells me, I say, ahh, we just finished setting your table.

Jen can you take this couple to table 37. She gets there. They open the door. The surprise is a real surprise.

All is well.

Except that, I’m in the weeds. Jen is in the weeds. Everyone is is the weeds because of one table.

I did feel like I was the maitre d doing the Waiters’ Gallup in Hello Dolly as everything came together perfectly.

They left very happy.

When you book a reservation for my restaurant through our reservation system you get an email survey about 20 minutes after we mark your table done.

We get a lot of feedback. 95% of our responses are positive. Actually it’s better than that most of the time. And the negative feedback has been used to improve our service, our product, our space.

Some of our responses are just hard to understand. This week we got a survey score of 45%. But not one written comment about what was so horrible about the experience. Just that she hated everything. This doesn’t happen a lot.

My favorite recent comment was:

We will return at some point, but it will only be for special occasions. Lower priced off season specials might entice us to return more frequently.

I understand that we are not an inexpensive restaurant. But our prices are not arbitrary.

Anyone cost out the price of beef lately? Anyone cost out the price of Prime beef? Anyone cost out the cost of cooking oil? Or avacadoes? Or labor? Or candles? Or liquor? Or beer. Or wine? How about kiln dried wood?

We appreciate that you’d like to come more often. We’d like you to come more often. But I’d also like to drive a new car. I don’t complain to Toyota about the cost of Tacomas. I also don’t leave Yelp reviews at 7-11 about the cost of gas.

We as a team spend a lot of time doing analysis of what we should charge, what we can charge, and what we will charge. And those numbers aren’t even close to the same. There are restaurants in Boston charging double what we charge for a steak. There are restaurants by the mall that will charge you 22 dollars for a 6oz filet. That is not nearly the same quality as what we serve. That’s not wood fired.

And let’s not forget, to many the restaurant by the mall is a special event restaurant and not a once a week restaurant.

We know that we are not an everyday restaurant for some people. Not only because of price. You have to drive to us. We are red meat centric. We don’t have water views. We don’t serve lobster.

But to A LOT of people we are. We have many people that have standing reservations. We have many people that eat at our restaurant seven, eight, nine, ten days a month.

So don’t mark our scores lower because we have a higher end concept. Give us higher scores because it is well worth the money. At least we think so.

When I became a GM I only had about six seconds of management experience. From my hire date till my first day on the job till my first day with our team I told myself to fake it till you make it.

I’d been a server off and on for 35 years. I’d had great managers. I’d had shitty managers. The same had been true of team players in the theater world. I’d had great directors. And shitty directors.

I told myself to emulate the best in the good ones and steer clear of the attitudes of the crappy ones. I knew who I wanted to be as much as who I didn’t want to be.

When I started the management team had already been assembled. A dining room manager. A bar manager. And an additional manager for our fine dining area.

By the time we met for our first day as a team, April 15, 2013, (The same day as the Boston Marathon bombing) the bar manager had already been replaced.

We met as a team. Planned out the next four weeks. Four weeks till opening.

The next day the FOH team met in the space. We had interviews scheduled. We got thru the interviews and then met as a team.

At some point I said something that the bar manager didn’t agree with. He went from 0 to 60 in 2.5 seconds. He began to shout at me and wave his arms and blah, blah, blah. I stopped listening. He’d crossed about a dozen lines.

When my boss arrived an hour later we called the bar manager and let him know that it wasn’t going to work out. I let him do the firing as at that point I’d never fired anyone before.

The next day we repost the bar ad.

We begin interviews immediately. We have 3.5 weeks till opening day.

My boss interviews a couple of people. I do second interviews.

At one interview with his favorite candidate. She is great. She has all the right answers. In fact she makes it clear that she wants my job.

It’s all going great. Until the FedEx person comes in with a delivery. She interrupts our interview, but she is just doing her job. I’m patient with her. The interviewee is rude to her. I don’t remember the exact exchange but I tell myself I don’t like the person I’m interviewing.

I tell my boss about all of this. She has interviewed well but my GUT says it’s a bad idea. We hire her. And regret it immediately.

10 days after opening, I let her go. By then I’d already terminated a server as well. I’m a pro.

This is a long way of saying, ever since I trust my gut. 100% of the time. If my gut says no. I say no. Who knows if I’d have been better off with some other people, but I think most of the time it turns out well.

Meanwhile, we end up promoting a bartender to bar manager. He lasted three weeks. Finally we promoted the person who should have had the job from the beginning.

She was with us for two seasons before she moved to Boston for a new experience.

Trust. Your. Gut.

12 years ago tonight I caught a purse thief. Red handed. While waiting tables. It’s one of the more brave things I’ve ever done.

We were always told at work to keep an eye out for people with their purses, bags, back packs on the back of their chairs.

At least once a week someone would reach for their bag to pay their check and the bag would be gone. Along with their wallet, passports, ids, money, their life. Their trip was effectively ruined.

It’s a bad day when you watch parents cry because they are from Germany, England, Nebraska, Idaho and everything they need for their trip is in the bag that is now gone.

Every pre-meal started with a reminder to tell your guests to keep their bags in their laps, around the leg of their chair, in sight always.

On March 2, 2010, I was hustling in the cocktail section at work not unlike hundreds of other shifts since I’d worked there. It was turn and burn. Move, move, move. The servers in cocktails would have 22 seats at one time and if you hustled the money was GREAT! It was not for the faint of heart.

So I was moving (for those who know the restaurant it was the section closest to live) and I noticed a gentleman standing around not doing anything.

I asked him if he needed help.

He says he was waiting on someone.

Okay then.

He continues to linger.

I’m headed from service bar to my tables, when I see him swipe the purse.

The woman noticed nothing.

I put down my drinks, tell my coworker to get security, and I catch the guy right in front of service bar.

I put my finger in his chest and tell him to give me the purse.

He opens his floor length coat and shows he doesn’t have it. He pushes past me.

I notice at this point the purse is in the trash at service bar.

I grab the purse and run to the lobby.

Seriously. I Run.

Security has stopped him as I confirm that it’s him. And show them the purse.

They arrest the guy.

The police go in to return the purse to the lady it belonged to.

She still hadn’t noticed it was gone. She is so thankful to have it back. Gives everyone a hug.

I go back to hustling.

The end result was that eventually the DA contacted me at work. That’s fun when the NYC DA calls your employer and says they are trying to locate you.

Eventually I go to grand jury court and testify.

He was convicted as a previous offender.

Meanwhile back at the restaurant.

The young lady spend the next couple of hours eating and drinking.

She eventually pays. And leaves.

And tipped.

Nada. Zilch. Zero. Nothing. Total stiff.

$00.00

Hmmm.

I still can’t walk by a chair at work with a purse hanging off the back without wanting to tell people to move them. But then I remember I’m in a coastal New England town. Speeding and Zumba classes that are fronts for high end call girls is about as dangerous as it gets here.