Id like to speak to the manager!!!

Our guests arrived for our Thanksgiving gathering around 3:00 today. We had cocktails, and way too many apps while Adam finished dinner.

There was laughing. And dancing. And hugs. And stories. And warmth and love.

We sat down to dinner around 5:45.

Plates are full. Wine is poured. Pictures taken. Toasts made.

And just as I take my first bite I hear my phone that is in the kitchen ding. I have a text message.

I ignore it. There is love to share at the table.

I get up to get seconds and check my phone.

Surely it’s a loved one wishing me a happy thanksgiving.

Uh. No.

The message says: Can we get in this Saturday at 7pm for 8? Thanks Phil.

Seriously dude. It’s a fucking holiday. We are closed today. You couldn’t have reached out yesterday? Or tomorrow?

There are about 12 people with my cell. 11 of them are gracious. And thankful. And appreciative.

He is not one of them.

Their way of showing gratitude is by throwing money at me and the staff.

They will often give me a cash tip.

But fun fact.

I don’t expect it. Want it. Or need it.

Is it nice? Sure.

I am not nor have I ever been motivated by money.

A show of respect goes further.

A. Lot. Farther.