I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I answer the phone tonight.  

It’s an older lady, who tells me she’d like to make a couple of reservations, but first she has questions.

I say of course, what can I help you with.  

She then asks if we have outdoor seating.  

I say yes, we have a lovely patio, that serves the full menu.  

She says great and says then I’d like to make a reservation for October 22. 

I interrupt and say that our patio will not be open on October 22.

She huffs and says, I don’t understand why?

I say, because we live in Northern New England and it will be cold by the end of October.

This perplexes her.  

She says, she’ll have to discuss this with her friends and call back.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Last night was a non-descript Saturday night.  

Save for two encounters.

The first a gentleman who was pissed that when he arrived at the outside bar for a cocktail 10 minutes before his reservation he was told by me that there would be no way to get a cocktail before he needed to be back inside.  

He left without saying anything to me.

But was he ever pissed.

He told the host when he arrived back outside that it was unacceptable to be told no.  

He told his server that waited on him that it was unacceptable that he was not able to get a drink before his reservation.

He then made a point to stop and let me know it was a failure in performance.  Especially since when he came back in for his reservation he had to wait 20 minutes.  

Here’s the thing.

He arrived and was checked in at 6:45. He was seated at 7:03.  

I could have let him approach the bar and wait.  He’d have waited 20 minutes for the drink but I guess he’d be happy.  

Instead, he let this one act ruin his life, which I have to assume is picture perfect, since this was the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

Meanwhile, the evening ends.  We are all in.  We are still full but all the reservations have been seated.  

I’m standing at the wait station and the host comes looking for me frantically.  I am concerned about what is coming next.  

She says, we need to talk in private and pulls me into a corner and says, someone has thrown up.  Right in front of the host stand.

Seriously.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  

One of the most beautiful things about my restaurant is there are hardly any pukers.  At my last job, you barely got through a week without a puker.  

I grab a food runner and tell them to grab some towels, gloves and soapy water and to meet me at the host stand.

She looks at, like every other person I have said this to, like I I’m speaking German. 

I repeat myself. 

She continues to look at me.

I speak slower and more directly.

Get me some towels.  Some kitchen gloves.  And a container of soapy water.  

Ahhhh.

She understands and goes away.

I go to the front door and host stand.

Yeap.  

There is a stream of throw up from directly in front of the host stand, around the corner and into the bathroom.  I’ve seen far worse, but the distinct smell is starting to fill up the lobby.

I stand there, telling people to walk around as they head into the restroom.

I wait.

I wait.

And wait.

I sent the host to find out what is taking so long.

Fun fact:  It always takes a long time, as though you’ve never asked for kitchen gloves or towels before.

Finally, they appear.  

I don the gloves.  Kneel down and go to work.  

The food runner begins to help bare handed and I yell at her to stop.  No.  No.  No.  Not without gloves.  

I scrub the rug in the lobby, the floor, and then move to the women’s room where I’m grateful that it’s not too bad.  The worst of it is already cleaned up.

In about 15 minutes, it’s done and the smell is waning.  

Once, it’s done, the host says to me that she was glad that she didn’t witness it, as she’d have probably joined her.  

She also says that she is glad that she didn’t have to clean it up.  

I explain that there are a lot of things I no longer do as a GM, on the floor.  That I will always ask a staff member to do.

There is only one thing that I will never ask my team to do and that is to clean up vomit. 

I never have and as long as I can get on the floor and do it, I never will.  

I have a strong stomach.  I know it’s not super safe.  And I won’t suscept them to that.  

So, as I have always done, I put on the gloves and cleaned it up.  

Now someone go bus table 33.