Leaving on a jet plane!!!

I’d like to speak to the Manager!!!

The wait has been long.  It’s been fun.  It’s been exciting.  

But the day finally arrived yesterday.

Yesterday, Adam and I finished packing our suitcases, double checked for medicines, chargers, and passports, and at 10:00 we left for the bus station to begin our trip to Buenos Aries. 

To be honest, we’d both had our trepidations about the trip.

Me, because my knee is still fucked.  With a capital F.  I’ve had 2 cortisone shots, 3 Euflexa shots.  Three water drainages.  

And still she persists. 

The two days prior to leaving were some of the worst I’ve had with my knee.  

But, as they say, you suck it up, put on a good face, and just get through it.  

As I told Adam, if all we did was sit by the pool, eat good food, and just relax, then it was a win/win. 

As for him, he was nervous to travel to a city, around the globe, where we don’t speak the language, and won’t how to navigate it.  

I assured him that Americans do it every day, so we’d be fine.  

As I predicted, he’s more excited than ever, now that we are here.  

Back to yesterday:

We left at 10:00 a.m. for the bus station.  There’s a Concord Shuttle Bus that will take you from Portland to the Boston Airport in exactly 2 hours.  

We ran a few quick errands and arrived for the bus at 11:00.  The station was packed, everyone waiting for the 11:30 bus.  

At exactly 11:20, we boarded and by 11:35 we were on our way.  

It’s a very easy trip, with internet and a movie.  I watched Ocean’s 8 without the sound, while Adam looked at his phone.  

Everything about the flight yesterday was easy.  

There was no traffic getting into Boston.  There were no lines at the check-in counter.  Security, was super-fast and I didn’t even have to take my laptop out of my bag.  Within 30 minutes, we were through security, and determined to find food.  And booze.  Before the plane.  

Fun fact:  The food choices at terminal B in Boston are kind of lame.  Coupled with the knee our choices were limited.   

Adam suggested Pot Bell Sandwiches as a first course, letting me know that they had chicken pot pie soup that I might like.  I agreed, so we reversed direction and got in line.

We arrive at the counter to find that they do not INDEED have chicken pot pie soup.  

Fuck.  This is a great start to the trip.  

I order broccoli cheddar instead.  He gets a sandwich.  And off we go to eat.  

As we are finishing eating, one of my best friends in the world, comes through security.  I knew that she was going to be there at the same time, I just hadn’t expected it to be so easy to meet up.  

We finish up, give each other hugs, and then we are off for the 2^nd course of our meal.  

It’s really a choice between Legal Seafoods and Sam Adams.  Neither choice is great, so we go with cheaper.  Sam Adams it is.  

We arrive and we were still getting seated when the server arrived to ask if we were ready to order.  We didn’t have menus at this point. 

We get drinks. We have snacks.  

The clock is ticking.  We say our goodbyes and snap a quick photo

And we are off to Gate 13. 

The boarding starts about 15 minutes later, and with that Group 5 is called and we head on to the plane. 

Adam read, about a month ago, that when you are flying, it’s always nice to do something nice for the flight attendants.  So we bought two bags of candy and we gave them to the crew when we boarded the plane. 

You’d have thought we handed them all 100 dollar bills.  We were given bourbon, to carry with us on our next flight, in fact I’m drinking a Woodford Reserve they gave me right now.  They were also just sweet and so thankful.  

The only negative about the trip, was that we’d downloaded shows to watch on Adam’s Ipad, but we couldn’t get it to play.  So most of that first trip was me trying to sleep.  

Three quick hours later we were in Miami.  Early in fact.  Of course there was no gate to park in, so we had to wait.  And then when the gate became available we had to wait almost 15 more minutes, because 37 people got up to pee and we couldn’t move till they were seated. 

We are off the plane and have exactly 35 minutes to get from terminal D to terminal E.  And they are about as far apart as Miami is to Boston. 

Bum knee remember. 

I put on a good face and we book it.  Up some stairs, rode the tram, down some stairs, down a three mile corridor and after 5 hours and 23 minutes, we arrived.  They were already boarding. 

We get on the plane to discover a very cute Argentinian man sitting in our seats.  Apologies are made, he moves to the seat he has with his family and we sit down.  

The seats are great…we paid extra for them.

But the arm rests don’t go up, as we are seated facing a wall and the tray tables are built into the arms and I’m stuck in the chair like a sausage.  

We ask the flight attendant if we could move as it’s approaching the time we are supposed to leave and the flight is more than half empty.  

She doesn’t seem to like the question, but tells us to wait until the doors are closed.  

Long story short, we get to move to a row with only 2 seats, with additional leg room, and the arm rests go up.  

About that time, champagne arrives, as a thank you for the bag of treats we gave this team.  

As we get settled, people are moving about, and it’s quite an attractive group of travelers.  Men and women are all very pretty.  Not such a bad thing when you are stuck with them for 8 hours.  

We take off.  

And Adam has figured out what was wrong with the I-pad and we start watching Elvis, and what seems like 12 minutes later drinks and dinner are served.  I don’t remember the last time I was served a meal on an airplane.  Not even going to California.  

Of course, I use the term dinner lightly. 

They clear our plates, turn out the lights and I look at my watch.  

We’ve been on the plane 75 minutes.  

OH.  NO.  

Adam and I go back to our movie.  

Actually, we open our carryon and open the bottle of bourbon gummy bears that we were given.  At the botton of the container is 5 or 6 “special” gummies.  We both pop one, then go back to our movie.  

About 40 minutes later, Adam tells me he is falling asleep, and so I take the I-pad, he puts his head on my shoulder and he’s breathing deeply five seconds later.  

I look at my watch, we have 1,259 hours to go before we land.  

I go back to the movie. 

I watch 3 hours of it, check how much is left, and there is still 7 hours to go.  It is long!!!

I realize I am relaxed and tired.  I put the I-pad away, open my pillow, and will myself to sleep.  

Which doesn’t happen.  For the next 6 hours I wake up about every 30 minutes.  Toss and turn, fall asleep again, wake up, and repeat.  

It turns out to be a long, long night.  

Since I was awake, I got to see two girls throw up in the restroom with the door open.  Not a fun sound at 4:00 a.m.

I watched as the restroom was placed out of order, after the last girl.  But no sign was put on the door.  So people arrived.  And they waited and waited and waited, until finally the need to pee drove them up the aisle to the back of the plane.  

I realize at 7 hours I hadn’t gotten up once since I got on the plane.  I’m trying to figure out why I haven’t had to pee.  And then I realize, they limit your fluids.  I have had 1 glass of water, and 1 glass of champagne, and 1 glass of wine sine 7 hours ago.  I’m parched.  I’m dehydrated.  I’m fucking tired.  

I also learned that assholes, like to raise the window coverings, way before people are awake, flooding the cabin with light and waking everyone.  Fuckers.  

I learned that breakfast is worse than dinner.  

I was reminded that airline coffee is gross.  

But at 7:45 Argentine time, which is 2 hours ahead of the East Coast, we landed.  Ahead of schedule.  

15 minutes later, we were on our way to the immigration checkpoint.

Picked up our bags.  

Went through claims security.  

And were ready to start our vacation in Buenos Aires.  

As Adam was taking the suitcases off the carousel, I was waiting (bum knee), and I realized why I hadn’t slept last night.  

I take medication for depression.  One of the side effects of taking it for so long, is that a withdrawal symptom is that it interrupts my sleep.  

Fun fact:  Never, in the history of taking this medicine, have I ever realized at 2 in the morning that I’m not sleeping because I haven’t taken my meds.  I toss and turn and realize it about 30 minutes after I get up.  

Three minutes later, Chef appears and our day begins.  

PS.  It’s late.  I’m tired.  So I have no proofed this or edited it.  Forgive me for the glaring errors. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’ve wracked my brain all day to find a Xmas manager post…

This isn’t manager related but it is a totally true story.  

When I was in my late 30’s, my mother wisely asked what I wanted for Christmas.  I was famous for “accidently” leaving things on my bed, that I didn’t need or want.  

So, I thought long and hard about what I needed and wanted and came up with towels.  My towels were years old, and getting threadbare so I asked for nice white towels.  

So fast forward a few weeks and it’s Christmas Day.

And Xmas morning, we open gifts and what would you know, my Mom and Dad gave me white towels. 

Fast forward, a couple of hours and my brother gave me white towels.

Fast forward a few hours and my aunt and uncle gave me white towels.  

I went home with 6 white towels.  

But wait.  There’s more.

The next two Christmases involved more white towels.  

When it was all said and done, I think I have about 12 white towels in my bathroom.

A single person, living alone.

I had so many towels that one week, my laundry, sent me home without towels, I didn’t even ask what happened.  I just pulled out new white towels.  

I’m pretty sure, after that year, my mom started giving me gift cards for Xmas.  

Seriously, though.  

How many white towels does one person need???

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I was very grateful to have the night off.  

The last Xmas Eve I worked, I worked 16 hours.  Open to close.  

Understaffed, and very busy.  I never need to do that again.  

At the beginning of that shift, I started a count down on my watch.  I don’t know if it helped move things along, but I was nice to watch the day fade away.  

I never, ever, ever need to do that again.  

I appreciate working for people who understand that sometimes it’s not about the money.

Last weekend at work, I was at the door, and someone asked when we were closing for the season.  I explained that we don’t close for the season, just a couple of weeks over the holidays.

One of the men standing in the lobby, exclaimed, that’s insane, that’s a lot of lost revenue over the holiday, at the end of the year.  

I’ve had this chat with my boss.  Not in an attempt to stay open, but to understand his philosophy.  

And the truth is, it’s only about 7 days we would be open, if we didn’t close, with the holiday off and our normal Tuesday, Wednesday off.  

It’s truly an open for 2 days.  Close for 2 days.  Open for 2 days.  Close for 2 days. 

It’s easier just to call it a day, and give everyone an extended vacation.  

And he knows that he could do a good amount of revenue during this time, but sometimes doing what’s right, is better than making a few more dollars.  

The truth is, we do very well for ourselves, and he acknowledges this.

So, to everyone who is celebrating anything this week, may you have a warm and lovely week. 

Be well.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I have to say that beyond the salary, the free food, the trip to Argentina, the other benefits, the absolute best thing about my job is that we are closed on Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day.

The holidays have always been one of the worst days of the year to work in hospitality. 

I have a theory, that people who like each other, eat at home.  

People who don’t like each other, eat at restaurants, and let everyone else know how much they dislike each other.

Yes.  I know there are extenuating circumstances. 

But, hands down the big holidays are the worst.  

Angry people.

Bad tippers.

Slow kitchens.

The restaurant starts to run out of the specials about 30 minutes after they open.  

And to be honest, the staff is all a little cranky too because they’d rather be home with their friends and family, and you can’t really blame them.  

And before anyone says it, YES, I know that there are industries where people have to work.  But somehow, the need for open restaurants isn’t as important as say emergency responders and doctors and nurses.  Those people are saving lives.  

I’ll take this time to give a shout out to all the Central Maine Power folks this weekend, who are waist deep in repairs as 250,000 Mainers are without power.

We need them to work.  

We don’t need Applebee’s to be open.  

And for any of my readers, who are dining out this weekend.  

For the love of all things holy, please be nice.  Please be patient.  And please tip more than 20%.  At least make it worth their while to be there.  

Happy Holidays!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I wrote this post almost 2 years ago. And posted it before I started asking to speak to the manager. Last night, I posted about public speaking and my graduation speech and Mark Maltby asked if I still give out “handouts” when I speak. I have not, since then, but I think it might be something to consider.  

Here is the story of how I went from designing to managing based on the original post from 2021.   

_____________________________-

My new restaurant just finished week three. 

It’s a great success and we are doing quite well. 

I often have conversations with guests, and it comes up that I moved from NYC and that in a previous life I was a theatre lighting designer. 

A pretty good one at that. 

Very often I’m asked how I made the leap from designer to restaurant general manager. 

Well. 

Fun fact. 

In grad school, while obtaining my MFA at UCSD, one of the best theatre schools in the country, I ran a very successful bar out of my office. 

Our offices were shared with three other people. We each got a corner.  

Everyone’s corner was their own domain.  I’ve attached a photo of my corner.  It was decorated like a carnival.  With Xmas lights, and disco balls, and all things colorful. I still have no idea how it started, but I built on it the whole time I was there.  I had fully planned to document it in photos before I left, but I came in one day and discovered that internet service was being updated and a whole portion of the décor had been taken down.  

The first happy hour, was on Friday night, of the first week of classes of my 2^nd year.  My friend Michelle was in town, and she funded the first happy hour.  We went to Costco, and bought all things booze.  Gin, Rum, Vodka, Bourbon.  We bought cases of Corona.  And we bought a fridge.  The weeks prior to that day, I spent scouring thrift stores, becaue I was determined that we’d have glass, glassware, not plastic solo cups.  

On that first Friday, around 3:30, I cleared off my industrial drafting table, made sure my laptop and drawings were all secure, and I’d set up bar.  

To say it was a success right off the bat, is an understatement.  I had told everyone about it, but they didn’t get what they were expecting.  I had a full bar.  And a cash drawer.  And an ice cooler.  

And as they say, if you build it, they will come.  

I hosted happy hour every Friday for two years from 4:00 to close. Which was sometimes 5:00 pm if we were all busy.   But more often it was as late as 1:00 or 2:00 am. A few night, also known as morning, we were still there are 4:00 am. 

My regulars included classmates, and unofficially our professors and staff who always pretended they weren’t there. 

We also had alumni, guest artists, friends, and strangers. 

Girlfriends, boyfriends and spouses would sometimes come.  

The crowd could be two people. Or sometimes 30 or 40 people.  

Occasionally someone would remind me that we weren’t allowed to have alcohol on campus, and I’d pretend to do something, like hang a curtain over the booze or hide it in a cabinet.  

We also did special deliveries.  

Once, during each tech, the drink fairy would show up and all the designer and stage managers would get a Styrofoam cup from the cafeteria with their favorite cocktail.  

It’s because of these deliveries I now drink bourbon. I got sick during tech in the spring of my second year, and my classmates kept my Diet Coke cup spiked with bourbon as I couldn’t talk and felt like shit. It got me through 8 days of tech and the show looked great. 

I managed to keep the bar inventory stocked and the fridge full, by charging two dollars per drink. We had an honor system and house accounts for those of us who ran short at the end of the month. 

People would buy each other cocktails, cover tabs, and not once, did someone not eventually pay up their 30 or 40 dollar tab.

That absolute best part of these Friday evenings, was the discussions, arguments, yelling matches.  

When you put 30 or 40 artists in a room, discussion ensues.  All in good nature.  But many, many times intense.  I remember an argument about whether you could use a toilet seat to represent a PAR CAN on a light plot as long as it was listed in the key.  Lots of discussion about real theater vs commercial theater. 

I truly believe that I learned as much drinking Corona on Friday nights as I did in the classes we took.  We interpreted texts, we discussed themes and characters, we discussed artists in our field, we critiqued each other’s work, and we learned and we lived and we enjoyed spending time with each other, and ultimately made life long friends.  

These friends have gone on to do great work.  They are running theater companies.  They are working on Broadway.  They are designing award winning films.  They are running design shop.  So, so many have gone into teaching, and I know their students are in good hands.  I love seeing my actor friend show up on shows like Community, and Law and Order and feature films.  

Others, like me have left the field and are equally successful.  They’ve gone into medical fields, arts administration, non-profit gigs, event management.  

And oh, oh, so many have taken on their biggest roles of all, they are parents.  I love, logging in to see what all of their kids are up to these days.  Some are still babies.  Others are teenagers.  All looked loved and cared for.  

I was a just as proud of running happy hour, as I was the design work I produced while a student. So proud, that my thesis statement, which at UCSD, is a one page paper was called, What I Learned During Happy Hour.”  In fact, I once didn’t get a teach job, because the academic council, didn’t think I’d taken my education seriously.  

When I graduated, my cocktail hour was as much a part of my legacy as my art.   

I don’t know if this is still true, but at UCSD, when the department holds graduation, each student, is allowed a few minutes (think the Oscars) to give thanks to their people.  We are told to keep it short which I did not.  

In fact, I remember to this day, saying, I’ve spent three years and thousands of dollars in order to stand here today.  You can give me more than 90 seconds to say thank you.  

However, before I started my speech, I had my friend Tom, wheel out a cooler, pop it open and gave each of my fellow graduating classmates a Corona.  

It was my last happy hour.  

I remember tearing up getting to the end of my speech, that had bullet points, NOT the speech written out.  

I wish that there had been I-phones back then because I’d loved to be able to see it now.  

I miss doing design work. I miss that creative outlet.  

But I like my life in Maine more. 

Adam and I talked at length about what our life in Maine would look like.  And the truth of the matter was, I was tired of traveling.  I was tired of living job to job.  And although there is great theater in the Boston Area north, I’d never have been able to buy this house, or live the life we have today.  

However, I’ve said a million times that my studies in California made me the manager I am today.

My patience. My ability to see the big picture. My ability to deal with all types of people. My ability to know just how dim to make the lights at dinner. My ability to not to stab someone in the eye with a fork. My ability to train new staff. My ability to take criticism.  My ability to think outside the box.  My ability to pivot when something needs a new look.  

All of this is an extension of UCSD.

In March, it will have been 10 years since my last design, but my two years of running a bar during grad school, I use every day. 

Thank you, Mark Maltby for not shutting me down! 

Thank you, classmates, who kept the bar open, and spent so many hours with me, doing what we love.  

And thanks to all of you who I still consider the best of friends.  

And that’s how I went from being a lighting designer to a general manager.

PS.  I have taken way too long to get this on paper.  I will edit it again, when I retire in 40 years.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

In 2013, about a week after I was hired for my first GM job, Adam ordered a present for me.  A copy of Setting the Table, by Danny Meyer.  He is a restauranter in NYC, and the book was his philosophy of hospitality.  It was a great read for a new manager.

Looking back, it taught me a lot.  In the 10 years since, I’ve kept a hold of some of his ideas, and realized others were a pipe dream only for someone who was in a position to make ownership decisions, not management decisions.  

I read the book twice.  First as a reader, then a second time to take notes.  I had about 15 pages of notes that I hand wrote, then put into a word document that I still have.  

I used these notes to format the basis of my first meeting, with the new staff of the restaurant I was opening. 

I was standing in front of the main bar, with my notes, and about 30 employees, I’d just met, staring at me.  

I gave one of the most moving speeches that I’d ever given.  

I’ve learned as an adult that not only do I like writing, but I also enjoy public speaking.  I’ve also learned that sometimes the speech is a dud.  And sometimes, it flows like I’ve been doing this for a lifetime.  

Some great speeches I’ve given? 

My graduation speech, when I finished up at UCSD, was from the heart and I felt was very good.  

My toast at my friend Michelle and Lisa’s wedding, was equally moving.

And my hospitality speech on the first day of training was excellent.  

The words flowed, the staff asked questions, and my heart was in it.

About halfway through the chat, I realized one of the owners had joined the meeting.  I continued as if I’d been doing this forever.  He pulled me aside and told me that we should chat about me heading up all the training for the company.  That never happened, but it felt good.  

I have learned not to write the speech, but the write the bullet points instead, and let the speech, be organic and off the cuff.  It’s always gone better for me this way.  

I still have the bullet points from that day.  I have given that talk about 30 or 40 times since.  It’s never worked as well.  It’s always feels forced and rehearsed and not from the heart.  

The reason, I’m sharing all of this it to write a post, that isn’t going to happen now.  As always, the first sentence has led me down a different path.

I am about to be challenged to give this speech, talk, chat, instruction, pep rally, training again in a few months.  And somehow, I need to find a way back to the first presentation.  

The first one.  

From the heart.  

Off the cuff.  

With all of the meaning and understanding there that I need for everyone to get.  

My first approach, will be to re-read the book.   Making new notes, with the understanding that I speak from a very different place today. 

I have 10 years under my belt.  I’m less naive.   Less blinded by the newness of the unknown.  

I’m jaded now you might say.    

That being said, there is much truth in what I shared from the book.  

That will be my start.  I’ve also done some research on similar books from the industry, that I’ll be picking up over the next month or so.  

And I’ll make my bullet points.  I’ll speak off the heart and I’ll hope it gets the job done.  

And I’ll let you know in about 6 months how it all goes.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I live in the northeast part of New England.

It is cold here. It has been cold here for about 9 months now.  

Summer is short, but what there is of it, is amazing.  

It’s actually a great place to live.  

We get one tornado a year.  

Earthquakes are light.

We do snow removal like nobodies business.

There aren’t a lot of forest fires

We do get a few nor’easters a year, but compared to the rest of the country that ain’t so bad.  

I say all this as one of the biggest wind storms to hit us, heads our way. On Friday, we’ll have sustained winds of 50 mph and gusts over 70mph. Half the state will be without power on Saturday.

That being said.

It’s a great place to live.

But I digress.

It’s been cold for a while. In fact, we closed our patio in September, when we had our first low 50’s evening. While it’s fine for guests to wear extra clothes, no one wants to be spend big money, on amazing food, to have it be cold when it arrives at the table.

For us, the seating on the patio is always closed, when it affects the quality of the food.

That being said, on Saturday night, I had two people walk in, inform me that they didn’t have a reservation, and would like a table for 2 on the patio.  

I explain that the patio is closed.  

They say since when?

I say since September.  

They say, but I thought you had a firepit?

I respond, yes in October.  

They are not pleased with any of this information and leave.

I know that there are lots of cities with outdoor patios in the winter. NYC has them everywhere.  

What I find strange is that people will eat in an enclosed outdoor patio, when they won’t eat inside.  

Fun fact, with the vents in the kitchen, and make up air, and the rest of the ventilation, most restaurants exchange all of their air about every 90 seconds if not more. The patio, that’s enclosed has no ventilation and so the air just sits there, sharing it’s life with everyone.

I’ll take this time to remind everyone, that our patio will NOT be open again till mid May.

Enjoy the real first day of Winter tomorrow. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I was never a good restaurant employee in my 20’s and 30’s.

When it came to theater, I had a different view of things.  

I’ve said, many, many, many times over that karma is the reason, I end up with some of the people I end up with and the situations that occur.  

I would change jobs like changing my underwear.

I’d walk out.  

I’d quit and not work out my notice.

I threw things.

I may have had frozen drinks during service in the afternoons in Atlanta.   

I many have gotten drunk on New Year’s Eve.  

I may have called out to go to Florida.  With three other employees.

I may have gotten fired for calling out sick to visit with friends from NYC.  

My grandmother died multiple times.  

I once called out to go to Texas to see a boy in the Army Reserves.  

I am not proud of these things. 

But as with anything, from your past, it’s so much healthier to own the mistakes, then lie about them and pretend they didn’t happen.

In 10 years of being a GM, there has never been a single time that someone has gotten fired for something that my friends and I have not done.  

I had a new manager at one restaurant, and we caught a bartender stealing.  She was shocked I tell you.  Shocked.

I spent the next two weeks, detailing all the ways that bartenders steal.

For example, new POS systems won’t allow you to transfer sodas to another check more than once.  To separate it on to a third check, your manager has to approve the transaction.

Why you ask?  Because back in the day of cash sales, you could transfer 2 sodas for a 2 top, 12 times.  It’s an easy 30 or so bucks added to your pocket at the end of the night.  

I once fired a server for having a lobster roll voided because she said the guests never got it.

However, as chance would have it, I bumped into her while I was walking into the kitchen.  I turned, and saw her deliver the two rolls, then bent over and picked up the potato chips she had dropped on the ground.  Otherwise, I’d never have known.  

Bartenders are famous for theft.  Not ringing in drinks.  Over pouring.  Using a 2-drink, beer, etc check over and over when it’s paid with cash. 

I had a friend explain to me that her bartender was always playing with pens at the bar.  Turns out he was tracking the extra money in the till, by putting a pen in a glass every time it reached 10 dollars extra.   

I fired a bartender on Xmas eve once, when I discovered that he hadn’t charged for an 8 tops booze, who happened to be an employee.  I discovered this when I went to put the discount on the check, before he asked for it.  Usually, I’d just give my card to the staff member.  I watched the rest of the visit and the drinks, including 2 bottles of wine were never accounted for. 

What’s funny, is that everyone I’ve ever fired for stealing has played it off, as if it was no big deal. 

This is not the post I started to write.  I was going to write about being employee of the month…but that post will wait.

The point of all of this, is that as a manager, I’m completely different.  

I’m calm.  I rarely, lose my temper and exhibit anger.  

In 10 years, I’ve only called out about 7 times.  Three times with my gall bladder.  Three times, when my mom was diagnosed with cancer and passed away.  Once with Covid.  Once when my gall bladder was removed, and that was planned.  

I never, ever, ever miss work.  In fact, the first time I missed with a gallstone attack, my staff freaked out, because it was several years into work at my GM job and I’d never missed.  

I would chop off my arm before I’d steal, or allow any of my staff to steal.  We all make great money.  Do the right thing.  

The closest I’d come to drinking on the job would be a drink at the end of my shift and that happens very rarely these days.  

I feel guilty these days even eating at work.  Our product is expensive and even though it is a perk and offered to me, I rarely eat a full meal more than once a week.  

Full disclosure.  There are things I don’t excel at.  

I am 10 minutes late to work every day.  I’m supposed to be there at 1:00 p.m.  I get there at 1:10. I’m the first person in the building, so it’s not like anyone is waiting for me.  

I also park in the guest parking lot.  At my current job, I parked in the far back corner on my first day.  My boss told me that one of the perks was to park next to the kitchen door.  Then he saw the car I was driving and told me to go back to the back corner again.  

At my first GM job, there were only 25 spots, for a 150-seat restaurant, and a 10-room hotel.  Spots were valuable.  I never, ever, ever parked anywhere but the guest lot.  The valets took great care of me.  I still miss them.  

I will sometimes pull out my phone in the middle of service.  HOWEVER.  I do get messages and calls from guests, looking for a table later that night. AND, I can see the reservation software so I can see how long a table has been seated, when they get water, order, or leave.  I can also see how long the table has been dirty, when staff members are standing around. 

I may eat candy, in the middle of the shift, from the candy drawer.  

I also, tend to have a drink with me, in my red Coke plastic Pizza Hut tumbler.  

And I talk to our guests longer than I should, when I tell my staff to keep the evening moving.  

Long story short.  I was an immature 20/30 year old.

I am a very mature, responsible, old man.  

I like who I’ve become.  And I sometimes I remember that I am who I am, because of the experiences of my youth.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’m officially on fucking vacation!!!

We had a private event tonight, that went off without a hitch.

We finished end of year items, like inventory, cleaning etc.

I have 23 days of fun in front of me.

However, I told my staff that the day would end with someone wanting a gift card at 8:30 screaming and yelling at me at the door.

Because.

I got through the night without being yelled at.

My host, Kelsey was not so lucky.

Around 6:00, a woman calls to say that she has accidently purchased 3 gift cards when she only wanted 1. 

She demands that Kelsey call the manager, so that they can refund her purchase immediately.

We are in the middle of a party for 130 people.  There is no way, I can be pulled off the floor for this.  

And.

To be fair.  

We announced a week ago, that we’d be closed for our Xmas break from 12/17 to 1/11.  

My host says all of this, and the woman loses her shit.  

She begins to shout and curse and demand that we refund her immediately.  

The host holds her composure, tells the lady that she is sorry that his has happened, and that she needs to email me and that is the only way to get the refund.

The woman curses some more about how she is going to call her credit card company, she doesn’t want any of the gift cards now and that we have horrible customer service.  

The call is over.

I feel bad for the host.  

An hour or so later, I get the email.  

And the email, demands the refund, tells me all the ways we have horrible customer service, how awful we are, how no one would buy three cards with the same amount on the same day, that she doesn’t want any of the gift cards now, and that she will be taking this up with her credit card company tomorrow.  

I processed her refund tonight.

The purchase was from 4 days ago.  

And responded with the following email:

Hi Jane,

Your refunds have been processed.  All three of them.  The Gift Cards now have a 0 balance on them.  

I’d like to say that it’s never okay to berate and curse at an employee of any establishment.  Your use of the word fuck repeatedly with my staff is unacceptable.

I’d like to point out that the mistake was yours.  NOT ours.  We pride ourselves on providing excellent customer service.  And that was true today.  

There are many times people buy multiple gift cards, of the same amount, so it’s not implausible that you did so today.  

Perhaps now would be a good time to think about the reason for the season, why we give gifts in the first place, and know that my staff is amazing and should be treated with nothing but respect.  

I hope that you have a great holiday.

Best wishes.  

J

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

After my job at Day’s Inn, I worked at Wendy’s in Georgetown.  This would have been 1983 or so.  I worked there until my second year of college.  I have no idea why I didn’t learn to wait tables, or pursue something more lucrative.  

The Wendy’s is still there. 

But Wendy’s it was.  

Back in the day, the orders were all called over the microphone.  You had to keep up with 2 small fries, 3 large fries, 4 medium fries.  All the while, dropping more fries, trying not to sweat in the fryer.  

Fun Fact:  Only girls were allowed to work the cash register.  They felt that guys didn’t give the right vibe.  Occasionally, they’d let us work drive thru, but usually, only after the dinner rush.  

Fun Fact #2.  I was working at Wendy’s when they introduced the baked potato.  That was also the responsibility of the fry guy.  

I never graduated to grill.  It was hard.  And took talent.  Or so we were told.  

It is true the hamburgers are never frozen.  

Until they are past well done. 

Then they are tossed into pickle buckets and frozen to make chili.

  The chili is delicious.  But its gross to know how its made.    

At some point, my favorite manager Annie, who was a pint size, hellion, who chained smoked in the office, was transferred to the North Park location in Lexington.  

It is also still there.  

I followed her to Lexington.

By this time, I was in college.

Annie and I got a long great, until someone very high up, decided we should be open till 3:00 a.m.  I protested.  I told everyone else to protest.  You can’t stay open if no one will work.

I lost, and not long after I quit, because you can’t be at work till 4:00 a.m. and attend a 9:00 a.m. class the next day.  

However, this is not the point of the story.  

It’s 1984.

I’m in college.  

I knew I was gay.  I’d known for a long time.  

By then I’d had my first experiences.  

But.

No one knew.  

NO ONE.  

One night, I had the privilege of working the drive thru and a cute boy comes through with his friends.  He flirts with me.  I with him.  

He gives me his number and tells me to call him.  I call him 2 hours later.  

I ended up at his house that night.  

He was super cute.  Super sweet.  And lived with a drag queen.  

For the next 3 weeks, I spent a lot of time with him at his apartment.  And I’d stop by the Video Village, to help him close before we ended up back at his apartment.

Fun fact:  My friend Todd Lacy from UK was also working at Video Village at the same time, although we never met.  

Fast forward 3 weeks, and the cute boy lets me know that we will not be an item.  I’m too young and too inexperienced.  

Looking back, he was absolutely correct.

In the moment, I was crushed.  I’d never been broken up with before. 

I moped around for several weeks.

One night, after work at Wendy’s, I was sitting outside in the summer evening, sitting on the curb talking with a co-worked at 3:00 in the morning.  

We had just closed.  

As a teenager, and young adult,  I used to love late night chats.  

I remember vividly a very late-night chat on the Garth Elementary swings with my friend Jayne Sadlon, as we contemplated life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

I digress.  

So.

There I am, sitting on the curb with Tammy, my co-worker from Wendy’s and I felt the urge to say the words and I brought the conversation to a point, where I said to her, just so you know I’m gay. 

I was terrified.  I was a convinced she’d tell everyone.  I was convinced I’d be disowned. 

It was the first time I’d spoken the words out loud to anyone.  

But nothing happened.  

She confided that she too was gay. 

And we talked for about an hour. 

And I got into my car and drove home.

About 6 weeks later, at the beginning of my sophomore year of college, I pledged a fraternity.

Yes.  

I WAS IN A FRATERNITY.  

It’s true.  

With secret handshakes.  And chants.  And hazing.  

Brotherhood forever.  

Part of the hazing one weekend, was to do a scavenger hunt.

1 item on the list was to get the signature of the bartender of Johnny Angels, the gay bar in Lexington.  It too, is still there under the name of The Bar Complex.  

I forget who I was with, but in I went and marched up to the bar, and asked for the bartender’ss signature.

And a person to my right said, what are you two cuties doing in here.

I turn and it’s my brief boyfriend’s roommate.  

I do wish I could remember her name.  

I smile and say, doing a scavenger hunt with a look that could kill.

She very kindly told us to have fun, be safe and turned back to her drink.  

I will remember that moment of kindness forever.