Hi all.

First id like to say thanks for all the birthday wishes.

More than anything though I’d like to say thank you to everyone who said happy birthday AND that they like my manager posts.

I live in a bubble.

I only know you read if you comment or like the posts. .

But.

I’ve learned lots of you read without commenting or liking.

A lot of you shared this today.

What was super impressive was how many theater friends shared that they read my posts.

I always feel like I’ve let people down by giving up my theater career. And without tooting my own horn, I was pretty good at lighting. Actually better than pretty good.

So to have several of my theater colleagues reach out to say they enjoy my posts today made my day.

I love my life. But would not trade my graduate school experience for all the money in the world. I’ll be paying for it till I’m dead, but it will always be three of the best years of my life.

So thank you for not judging me. For supporting me. For loving me!

I love all of you as well.

In case any of you weren’t paying attention, last March I started a new job. I needed to open a new restaurant which included hiring FOH and BOH staff.

It turned out to be a shit show.

I started in the middle of March. And by the first of April I was reaching out to everyone I knew looking for staff.

Lorrie. Katherine. Tara. Lexie. Garrett. Stephanie. Joe.

One of these folks had been a sous chef with me at David’s.

I texted him and asked if he was looking for a change.

He said no.

And then mentioned that his owner was looking for a GM.

I asked about the salary and he sent a laughing emoji.

And then mentioned he was friends with my current boss.

Ugh.

But the new job was still exciting.

So I moved on.

A week or so later, I got a phone call from a 502 number.

Kentucky.

I did not answer.

They leave a message.

It’s the ex-owner of a previous restaurant that hated me. Calling to see if I’d be interested in a new job.

Seriously. What. The. Fuck.

I don’t call back.

Two days later, I’m sitting in the dining room of my new restaurant and my current boss walks in to see the new space. I’m introduced. I pretend to not know who he is.

Fast forward three months.

My new job is a shit show. I text my old friend and ask if they are still looking.

They are.

24 hours later I’m sitting in an interview.

And the rest is history.

And today was that friends last day at my restaurant. He’s moving on to a new chapter.

Long way of saying to my friend who reads these posts:

Thank you. My current job is awesome. Even on its worstest worstest days it’s pretty fucking awesome.

Thank you for acknowledging my talent. Charisma. Uniqueness. Nerve and Talent.

Thank you for inviting me into your fold and letting me do what I do.

And most of all best of luck in the next chapter of your life. Whatever it turns out to be.

Now. Sashay away.

And since this is not a baseball, gold, hockey, basketball reference you won’t understand that reference. But is said with all the love in the world.

Good luck Joe.

Love you and thank you more than you’ll ever know.

I was reading through some old texts for my next post and found this.

This was five days after I started my current job. Truly my first manager post.

The person who sent it to me said, keep that energy. The big guy loved it.

And keep it I shall.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I posted earlier in the week about how someone had gotten upset about a post.

I’ve learned a lot about that experience.

The biggest lesson:

There is so much more to write about than guests.

I’ve written mostly about myself this week. And I’ve shared with you some of the ways I’m vulnerable at work.

And it’s been freeing.

Yes our guests are still crazy. But that’s not exclusive to my restaurant. Working in the public encourages that.

But there are lots of other things that happen.

So I am going to commit to sharing some of my other struggles at work.

Im an equal opportunity poster.

PS. If you’re reading this you can now post a comment without registering with WordPress.

I’m an old man. Just a few days shy from being even older.
But.

I really appreciate the knowledge I gain everyday.

The most important lesson I’ve learned is that it is always beneficial to be vulnerable. It’s always beneficial to be honest. It always beneficial to own your faults.

When I took my first job as GM I committed myself to owning my performance. Good or bad. You get the best me.

For example. My first season, I over paid 6 servers a grand total of 3,500 dollars. I’d put them in payroll at a training wage and never changed it.

I called both my bosses and owned it. Trust me. It has never happened again.

And there were no repercussions. Just a reminder to be more careful next time.

I also own my mental health at work. I’ve had a million employees who suffer from depression, anxiety, bi polar disorder, borderline personality disorder.

I own my own issues as a way to let my staff know they are in a safe space. In fact I learned, with some coaching from my staff, that if I ask to see someone in the office to follow the request with you’re not in trouble. This after one employee had convinced herself I was going to fire her any minute.

So I have learned vulnerability is a good thing.

And I had a fucking great night at work tonight.

I apologized exactly three times. And by owning my size, my presence, my self I took up a lot less space tonight. And I told myself several times that I’m not in your way, you are in my way.

It felt great.

So friends. Be vulnerable. Be honest. Own your mistakes. Own your presence. Own your size.

Be you.

Good.

Bad.

Whatever.

Don’t apologize for being a person.

Don’t apologize for being you!!!

Hi friends. Just letting you know your can comment now.

So let me know your thoughts.

Your opinions.

Your ideas.

Thanks!!!

Tonight around 7:30 a woman comes in.

She doesn’t have a reservation.

But.

She is a regular.

I happen to be at the host stand when she comes in.

We get her seats after giving a hard time about not calling for a reservation.

Her husband joins her.

Fun fact.

I love this couple. For a million reasons, most of which is because I have a huge crush on her husband.

He’s so handsome. Think 60 year old Anderson Cooper.

She’s equally attractive.

Both older than me.

But who cares.

But.

Tonight we are chatting and I mention my partner.

I’m about to continue and HE stops me.

He asks me my partner’s name.

I say Adam.

And he’s says: so now we know his name. Stop referring to him as “my partner” and start referring to him as Adam.

And I fell in love with both of them even more!

Introducing.

My partner:

Adam.

In case some of you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t posted much this week.

Well.

Here’s the backstory.

Last Sunday, a friend, a regular came into the restaurant.

And as she approached the host stand she shared with me that someone had shared my blog with a person, that it turns out felt that a post was about her.

It was not.

But she felt attacked.

And for the life of me I can’t imagine why she felt it was about her.

The post was from 8 weeks ago.

It was random.

It didn’t mention a name. A restaurant. A server. Anything to identify the person.

Except the behavior.

And the behavior was outside of our norm.

And.

So I took a few days to look at the posts. The intent. The information.

And the truth is, I’m vague on purpose. I don’t want to offend anyone. I just share my experiences.

So.

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

I’m a big guy.

Very big.

Ohhh, that it were all muscle, but alas that ship has sailed.

I’ve struggled with my weight since puberty. I was a skinny little thing till around 7th grade. I remember my first pair of husky pants from K-mart. It was not a fun day.

Since then it’s been a battle. Up. Down. Up. Down.

When I hit 35 I lost the weight, started running, and was for the first time ever below 190. I hovered around 185 for almost five years.

In fact, unbeknownst to me, a new group of friends I made after 9/11 referred to me as hot Jeff. There were four of us Jeff’s in our group. Suit and tie Jeff and I still friends. But yes, until I moved to California to go to grad school that was how they referred to me.

Alas.

Three months before I moved my dad died.

Two months before I moved I broke my foot. My running days were over.

Then.

I started grad school.

Them to make matters worse over Xmas break my appendix burst. 8 days in the hospital. Two months before normalcy returned.

When I looked up I’d gained all the weight back. Plus some.

Hot Jeff was fat.

I’ll stop for a second and say I’m not looking for sympathy or compliments. Just observing something I’ve discovered lately.

As a big guy, I’m aware of the space I take up.

I’m extremely uncomfortable at the theater because I withdraw into the smallest being I can be so as not to make my neighbors miserable. Adam buys aisle seats when he can.

I’m alway at the window on an airplane because I can once again curl into a ball and hug the wall.

At the grocery store, at the mall, at a bookstore I’m very aware of my space in the aisle so I say excuse me a lot.

Actually. I say sorry.

I apologize for taking up space.

And I realized about a week ago I spend a lot of time at work apologizing for taking up space.

Sorry for being in your way.

At the wait station.

At the host stand.

Behind the bar.

Making coffee.

I say sorry about ten thousand times a night.

Thing is, I’m not the only person who takes up space at work. And I’m not referring to weight.

Everyone has a job to do. Everyone has a reason for being where they are.

So why, do I feel like I’m not allowed to take up space. It’s a psychological response to being big.

So I’m saying all of this out loud to own the fact that I’m allowed to take up space. I’m allowed to be where I am. I’m allowed to own my presence.

I’m allowed to stop apologizing for being a big guy.

That is all.

My all time new favorite thing is when people call to make a reservation and then tell me what’s available.

Hi. I’d like to make a reservation for Wednesday night. You have a 7:15 available according to Resy.

So if you know what’s available, why didn’t you just make it online. It would have saved us all time.

Or.

Hi. I’d like to make a reservation for Wednesday. For 8 people. Perhaps you could put us in one of the private rooms.

Yes I could.

And I will.

Because it’s the only place 8 people will fit. If you want to sit together.

I do appreciate that people want to come eat with us. It’s just funny being on the phone with people sometimes.

PS. On the opposite side of things. I love when people tell me what bar stool they prefer.

One side looks at the kitchen.

The other TV’s.

It’s so much easier to organize before the night starts. Instead of in the middle of a busy shift.

Kristen likes seats 9 and 10.

The Smith’s like 13 and 14.

The Jones’s don’t care as long as the face the kitchen.

Perhaps there is no making me happy.