I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Adam and I went to NYC two weeks ago.  

We try to go once a year. 

We tend to do more than we should.  

And we spend WAY more than we should.  

But as I like to point out to people at work, we aren’t paying for college, braces, a third car, prom, trips abroad, travel sports, video games, laptops, school supplies, and a 2,500 square foot home.  

Cats are cheap. Plus, you they don’t expect to travel with you.

We went to NYC.  

And I missed two days of work.  

And there are people who come in, who wonder where I was two weeks ago, because I’m literally in the building 99% of the time.  

Tonight, a guest asked where I was. And I shared that I was in NYC. 

The following conversation has happened four or five times now.  

WOW. It’s a real shit show down there now.

The crime. The trash on the streets. The closed businesses. The homeless. We were just down there this fall, and it’s horrible. Disgusting. I can’t believe how much it has changed in the last three years.  

And I stand there, wondering, if they were really in NYC.

I lived there for 5 years. Moved away for 3. Then moved back for 6.  

Yes, it has changed.  

But.  

There are has always been trash on the streets. There have always been businesses closing. There has always been homeless people.  

And most of all.

It’s always been disgusting, which is single handedly, why everyone I know that lives there, lives there. 

I can’t speak for everyone, but most everyone I know gravitated to NYC, because they were looking for something. A career. Love. A hiding spot. Sanctuary. Freedom. Life. Safety.  

For me it was all of the above.  

So yes, it has changed.

But so has Maine. And Peoria. And Des Moines. And Tulsa. And Amarillo. And Los Angeles. And Seattle. And little Sadieville, Kentucky.  

And fun fact.  

Yes, a lot of places I used to love are gone. 

But the only real difference I can see in the city, is the addition of the outdoor seating pavilions that small and large restaurants alike have installed.  

Besides, who wants to go to city like NYC and not be a little disgusted. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

There are 2 things I knew as a child. 

1. I would go to college.  
2. I would get a job as soon as I could so that I could buy things for myself, that my parents wouldn’t.  

Full disclosure, it really wasn’t–wouldn’t, it was more a couldn’t.  They didn’t have the money to buy the things I wanted.  

It’s funny, looking back at what I spent my first paycheck on.  I bought clothes.  That were in style.  That weren’t from K-mart.  For my friends in Kentucky, I spent my $83 (I remember this) on clothes from McAlpin’s.  My family thought I was deranged.  That’s another story.  

I turned 16 on Sunday, April 12, 1981.  I just learned that on that day, the first NASA Shuttle was launched.  

Two weeks later, I started my first job.  

I was hired to be a dishwasher, at the Day’s Inn Restaurant on Delaplain Road, in Georgetown, Kentucky. Making $3.35 an hour.  

I was fucking stoked. 

I’ll have to post a photo if I can find one.  

I wore white uniform pants, a white uniform shirt, tennis shoes, with a brass name tag.  I was Robert, because they didn’t have a Jeff.  

My shift on the first day started at 4:00.  

I was nervous as fuck. 

And didn’t have a clue what I was doing.

I’d gotten the job, because my Aunt Debbie worked there as a cook, and my parents knew the husband/wife team that managed the hotel and the restaurant.  

I punched the clock.  

And I was off.  

The restaurant closed at 9:00 that night.

At 11:00 I was still washing dishes.  

My parents sat in the dining room, with the manager and my aunt, smoking, while I meticulously, scrubbed every dish spotless.  

I think I finished up around 11:30 that night.  

My parents had been told I was the slowest dishwasher they’d ever hired.  They were going to give me two weeks to figure it out.  And if I didn’t speed up, then I’d need to look for a new job.  

And speed up I did.  

Within six weeks, I was FAST.  

In six months, I was cooking.

In 12 months, I was waiting tables.  

And just shy of 2 years I was fired but these are all stories for another day.

The only thing that matters today, is that I went from the slowest dishwasher to the fastest dishwasher and cemented my career path in hospitality.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Server edition!!!
The following occurred tonight at work.

A four top was sat. Ordered. The food arrived. They ate.

The server seeing that the woman at the table was finished with her dinner, approached the table and tried to clear the her plate. 

At this point the women completely lost her shit. Why you ask? 

Because her plate was being cleared before everyone at the table was finished. She began to yell at the server because it was very rude of the server to take the plate when others at the table were still eating. At some point she, became completely indignant and demanded to see a manager.  

When he arrived, she began again.

By the time I heard all of this the server was crying in the wait station, because of course, the manager sided with the guest. 

Because the guest is always right.  

At some point I guess our new “English” manager explained that this was an English custom that some people were very strict about.

And my comment.

FUCK HER!!!

This is not fine dining. It’s not even close. You are eating a hamburger with French fries using a paper napkin. The mayonnaise you were given is in a plastic ramekin, and you are squirting ketchup directly from the bottle. When you ordered tea, it was Lipton, and the mug wasn’t even on a saucer. And if I were your server you wouldn’t have even get a spoon. You’d have a little cocktail straw.  

Hmmm. The server was being rude????

Once again.

Fuck you

You want to know what’s rude. Going to another country and then proceeding to demand that your customs be followed.  

Fuck you.  

Fuck you.  

Fuck you.  

Seriously.  

You don’t get to be indignant over a 16-dollar cheeseburger. You want fine dining go find fine dining. You want “proper” service, don’t go to high volume restaurant where the server’s job is to get you in and out in as little time as possible. Don’t go to a restaurant where the other 99% of the people want their plates cleared as soon as they finished. The next time you need “proper” service call up the fucking queen and see if she’s available for dinner. 

Oh.

You know what’s really rude?

To yell and berate someone in public.

In the big scheme of things on the rudeness scale.

Clearing your plate early. 1.

Yelling at a server. 100. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

This one is fast and easy.  I have been down a rabbit hole tonight, that I can’t wait to share with all of you…but that day is not today.  

The two-week Christmas celebration in our little town is over.  

As I like to say, businesses do summer numbers with winter staff.  The masses come to town, they spend a lot of money, we all stress out and not one business in a 50-mile radius is sad when it’s over.  

It ended for us tonight around 11:00 when the last two-top left.  

I have to say that I am very glad.

As for me, I have 6 more working days, until we close for a much needed, much deserved winter break. 

Normally, the restaurant is closed for about 2 weeks just for Xmas and New Year’s.  This year we are closed for 23 glorious, GLORIOUS, days. 

The time off will be well spent.  

In the meantime.  

Prelude is OVER!!!