I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Day 4 this week.  

We were stupidly busy.  Summer time busy.  We did 100 more people tonight than we did a year ago tonight.  It’s crazy.  

We were completely staffed in the FOH, so I got to be on the floor.  

I had the best shift ever. 

I managed the shit out of the front of house.  You do this.  You do that.  You go here.  You go there. 

I pretended my knee didn’t hurt and just did it.  

I might be regretting that a little bit now, but what’s a girl to do? 

Last night and tonight, I got to be “on” with guests.  I greeted lots of people, shook a lot of hands, got hugs from some amazing friends, and did what I love to do.

It was a fun night.

It was funny because two separate parties came in and already knew that my knee was fucked.  I have no idea how, but they asked me about it, before they had a chance to see me hobble around the floor.  

One of our guests tonight was Hot Daddy Doctor.  A server gave him this nickname.  He is a doctor.  He has two kids.  And he’s hot.  His wife is even hotter.  

He asked about my knee and by the time he’d left, he spoken to two friends who are surgeons in town and I’m supposed to call this week to see if they can pick up the speed on getting me in for a replacement.  Fingers crossed.  

He asked for my cell number tonight, so that he could text me their information.  Many of our guests have my number. 

He came up to me at the end of the meal, gave me a hug and made me promise to call his friends.  The then reminded me not send any dick pics his way.  

I laughed and told him that I’d just tell Adam I was dumping him for a rich doctor.  He told me he’d have to ask his wife first.  

I will call this week. 

I’ve gotten off the topic, but thing that amazed me tonight was that I’m the 2^nd oldest employee in the building.  A bartender is a couple of years older than me.

However, 85% of the staff is 30 years or more younger than me.

Meanwhile, I’m running around like an Olympic athlete and my 12-year old staff is moving at a snails pace. At least a dozen times I asked people to try and walk at least as fast as I was walking.  

Now I have to pour another bourbon and swallow an entire bottle of Tylenol.

See you boys and girls tomorrow.