I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Adam and I don’t eat out a lot when we are home.

Obviously, when we are away, we have to eat at out.

We’ve had some stunningly wonderful meals.

We’ve also had some duds.  

Last week in DC, it was no different.  

The first story, will be about going out for a big steak dinner.  

We love red meat. We love steakhouses. This is 100% more true now that I work at one.  

We go in search of comparable meals.  

We actually had a meal that was comparable in Lexington.

Last Monday night, well, not so much.  

Let me tell you about it.

The idea was to have dinner, with all the fixin’s, wine, cocktails etc.  

Neither of us were driving, so no one had to be the DD and there was no need to hurry home.

We made reservations for 7:30.  

When we arrived, we approached the host stand, Adam let them know we had a reservation, and the manager pointed to a table and said, that’s your table. He didn’t lead us there. Didn’t give us menus. He just pointed at a 4-top table, on the other side of the restaurant, next to a group of 15 or so men.  

I’m almost to the table, when I hear Adam call my name.  

I turn, and he motions for me to come back.

I return and discover that the manager thought we were joining the large party of men. Why he’d think that when we had our own reservation is beyond me. And let’s just say with the group of guys, two of us weren’t like the others.  

We are taken to a 2-top booth.  

We get settled in.  

The first thing I notice, is that it looks like we are in a hotel lobby. 

The décor is basic. The lighting is worse.  

And, there is no one there.

There are perhaps 6 tables in the whole restaurant.  

A server approaches and hands us menus.

And, in .000001 seconds, he turns on his corporate speak and begins to upsell us.  

Would you like bottled still or sparkling water?

May I recommend a beverage. Perhaps a glass of cabernet, or malbec. We also have a very nice Sauvignon Blanc, or maybe a mocktail it you like.

He then went on to mention a couple of appetizers.  

I call it Applebee’s speak.  

Corporate 101.  

You have to mention these three things because if you are secret shopped they’ll lower your score.  

We ask for tap water and started looking over the menu, while I began to tell Adam how much I didn’t want to eat here.  

The truth is, I didn’t want to spend the money we were about to spend, on a Applebee’s experience, with the basic décor and bad lighting.

However, I did check in and ask if I was being ridiculous.  

He told me he understood, but to give it a chance. We might like it more than we think.

We are still looking at the menu, when the server appears with water.  

He asks if we’d like a drink, and before we can even tell him our decision, and we had made one, he begins the hard sell again.

Perhaps you’d like a bottle of Merlot, or a glass of Pinot, I often recommend the special Manhattan, and on, and on, and on.  

I stopped him and said, we need a couple of minutes please.

He walked away and I told Adam, I am not eating here.

Adam was worried about just leaving, but he did understand.  

We decide we’ll move to the bar, have a cocktail and try to find another steakhouse with openings for dinner.  

We get up, approach the host stand, and from behind me I hear Adam say, “I’m sorry, we are going to have to cut our evening short. Our baby sitter just called and she’s nervous, so I think we’ll need to reschedule. We are going to have a quick drink before we head out at the bar, if that’s okay.”

What the fuck was that?

The manager is so understanding, says of course, of course. He leads us to two seats at the bar, and we get settled once again.

The bar is even worse than the dining room.

It seats about 20 people. There is one other guest seated 8 or so chairs down from us. Fox News is on the TV. And the bartender has attended the same training school.  

Our drinks arrive, and Adam and I are discreetly looking for another restaurant, when who should appear, but the manager.

I should point out that he is a tall, gay man in his 40’s. Why is this important…because he wants to bond with us over our situation.

Is this the first time you’ve left your child? Yes, at least for this long.

Is it a girl or boy. A girl!

How old is she? Three

How many do you have? Just one. We originally said, no children but after 10 years together, felt like we were missing something, so had a daughter.

Who is babysitting? Our neighbor’s 16 year old daughter. Its the first time she’s ever babysitted before. She’s nervous. And has asked us to hurry home.

He disappears and re-appears over the course of the 20 minutes we were there.

While we are still seeking an alternative for dinner, Adam and I are also creating the background story, because the questions just don’t stop.

Finally, after 40 years, I’m using the acting skills, I learned in during my undergraduate degree.  

She is three. We used a surrogate. She was born in July. Her name is Ashton Rose, after Adam’s grandmother. We discussed not having children at our first date, but eventually changed outr minds. Adam was more on board with it than me.  

These weren’t quick answers either. There were several names before we landed on Ashton Rose. There was a discussion of maybe her boyfriend was the problem.  

We were worried he was going to ask where we lived as neither of us know DC.  

We secured another reservation at 8:15.  

Meanwhile, our drinks have been empty for 10 minutes. The bartender is nowhere to be found. Adam eventually gets up and goes to the other end of the bar to try and find someone to run our credit card.

We pay. And thankfully, the manager, was busy doing something, se we were able to sneak out without incident.  

We laughed all the way to the new restaurant.  

Where we are seated at beautiful window table. The décor is lovely. The lighting is still bad.  

The service, however, was top notch.

We met the sommelier, who talked to us about Buenos Aires.  

We met the captain, who brought my cocktail, to personally infuse the smoke table side. She once spent the summer in Maine, at Maine State Music Theater, dancing in the chorus.  

We met the manager, who was lovely.

They all made sure we had a great time.

I let them know I worked for a steak house in Maine and when we got the check they had give us a 25% industry discount.

It was a wonderful experience.

The food was great as well.  

At the end of the night, I once again, asked Adam if I’m just too critical.  

He said no.  

But of course, that was before we had dinner on Tuesday night. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’d like to tell you a story.

One, that is absolutely true.

One, that changed the trajectory of mine and Adam’s life.  

On Christmas Day, 2011, my friends Lisa and Michelle, along with me, sat Adam down in their living room and explained to him that we were leaving NYC and moving to Maine.

This was not easy.  He’d lived there for 15 years and the thought of not being part of the city scared him.

Eventually on that day, he said yes.

We went home 48 hours later and started the process of planning our move.

We took apart our guest room so that we could move the stuff we had in storage home to be with us, in order to save money.  

We began to purge.  Selling things.  Giving things away.  

We had a plan.  

We’d save money all summer, and then move the week after Labor Day.

This was locked in.  

It was a go.

Fast forward to April.

We planned a trip to Maine, to visit our friends.

While we were there, I suggested that we look at a few apartments to get a feel for what housing looked like, how much would it cost, and ultimately, what could we get for our money.   

I searched Craigslist.

I set up 6 appointments on March 31, 2012.

We put the directions into the GPS and went to all of the appointments.

The first apartment was in South Portland.  I like it a lot.  Adam thought it was dirty because you could tell little kids had lived here.  We’d been told it was already rented but I asked the landlord if we could see it anyway.  (Funny story, she called three weeks later, to see if we’d be interested as the tenants had not worked out).  

The second was off Forest Avenue.  It would have been great, if it hadn’t been 100 years old and last updated 100 years ago.

The third was on State Street.  It had been updated, by chopping the historic building up into a million pieces.  There were at least 5 or 6 couples looking at this one.

4, 5, and 6 were worse than the first 3.

Adam and I went home saying that if this is what we were going to have to live in in Maine, we might want to think about a different city.

We had one more appointment and it was at 9:00 the next morning, April 1, 2012.  

We arrived to a construction site.  The apartment was under renovation.

We walked in and fell in love.  

We asked if we could come back and see the apartment with our friends at noon.  We wanted to make sure it was in an okay part of town and that it was a good value.

We saw it again.  

Then asked if we could come back one last time at 5:00.

That afternoon, we saw the apartment one last time.  We both agreed it was amazing.  

We gave the landlord a check for the security deposit and first month’s rent, with a start day of May 1.

We didn’t have the money for either check.  

We borrowed the money from Adam’s dad 24 hours later.  

We had an apartment in Maine.  

However, we weren’t supposed to move until September.  

We said fuck that and on May 27^th, we loaded our stuff into a U-Haul and drove north to Maine from NYC.  

Neither of us had jobs.  We had no savings.  

It was a true leap of faith. 

I interviewed at several jobs when we got here.

One was for a management job on an island.  

One was for a front of house manager job 20 minutes north of us.    

I took the job 20 minutes north and reached out to the island job and said, I would not be a good fit, but that they should hire my partner as a server.

He started two weeks later. 

I started my manager job.

12 weeks later, I was offered a lighting job assisting on a big Cirque type show that would be presented in China.  It was perfect.  What are the odds of a lighting job like that in Maine? 

I quit my management job and started drafting.  

4 weeks to the day, that I started working on the show, the project lost funding and everyone was let go.    

It’s October 1 and I’m unemployed.  

I did get 4 week’s severance, and so it appeared there was no need to rush to get a job.  

October came and went.

And suddenly, it was November 1 and I needed to start looking.  

I started sending out resumes but I couldn’t find a job.    

I am not even getting interviews.  

I am applying to management jobs.  But also serving jobs.

November comes and goes.  Still unemployed.

December comes and goes still unemployed.

Well, actually at the end of December, I got an interview at Panera Bread as an assistant manager.  I actually had 4 interviews.  The last one was a stage.  (A stage, pronounces stawge, is a tryout in the restaurant.  Cooks very often have a stage before they are hired). 

Three interviews and a stage.  

I discovered that I didn’t get the job, when I saw the ad re-posted for the position again on Craigslist.

Fun fact, this is the reason that no matter what job you are applying for, if I interview you and I’m not hiring you I at least say so with an email.  

It’s January 1, still unemployed.

I finally decide maybe it’s my resume.  

I re-work it thinking that part of the problem might be my lighting work and MA and MFA, both in theater.    

I drop all of my theater work from my resume.  

I drop my M.A. and M.F.A from my resume.

I fudge the dates on my employment.  I didn’t lie about my jobs, just when I worked there to fill in the gaps when I was in graduate school.  

I start sending out my new resume.  

At this time, Adam says to me, enough, I don’t care where you work you have to get a job. 

This might have been because we were now two months behind on rent.  Our landlord was understanding, but it was only a matter of time until he wasn’t.  

I apply to everything.

I apply and get interviewed as a manager at Target.  

I didn’t get hired. 

I apply at Sam’s Club, and get an interview.

I go into my interview and speak with a manager.  

He looks at my resume, speaks to me for about 12 minutes and says to wait here.

Five minutes later another manager walks through the door.  He speaks to me for five minutes and says wait here.

And another manager.

And finally, the GM of the store walks in and hires me.  All in 90 minutes.  

I’ll be an assistant manager in membership sales. 

I hated every minute of the experience.

I hated peeing in a cup.

I hated having a background check.

I hated when Kathy called to tell me that I’d passed everything and to return her call to set up a date to start.  

Meanwhile, while I was waiting on the pee results and background check, I kept sending out resumes.

On February 21, 2013 at 3:45 I arrived at Margarita’s on St. John Street, to drop off my resume for a serving position.  

They didn’t open until 4:00, so I was sitting in my car, looking at my phone, when it rings.  

There is a man on the other end who says that he got my resume, thought it looked good and wanted to know if I’d like to come in on Monday to chat about a dining room management position.  

I explain that the next day, I’m flying to Iowa, and won’t be back for 2 weeks.

He asks if I’m available now.

I say yes, but that I’m not dressed for an interview.  

He says not to worry about it.  

10 minutes later, I walk into a restaurant, in Monument Square to interview for a management position.    The job, would require me to wait tables, while also, managing the floor.  

I’m led to his office downstairs and we begin to talk.  It’s a little after 4:00.

Three hours later, at 7:00, I walk back to my car.  

I don’t remember a lot about the interview.  Just that we clicked.  That I thought it went well.  And that he told me he’d reach out in the next few days.

24 hours later, I flew to Iowa.  I designed my last show in Iowa, and my next to last show ever.    

7 days into the trip, I received a call.

He told me that he didn’t think I was a good fit for dining room manager.

He went on, saying, he felt like I would make a better GM.  

I held my breath.  Did I hear him correctly?

He asked me if I was there.

He followed that question with, did I think I could do the job.

I assured him that I could.

We spoke briefly about salary.  At the time, a million more dollars than I thought I’d ever make.

He told me to reach out when I arrived back in Maine.

And we hung up.

I called my boyfriend, who might have thought I was lying, because the whole idea of going form a supervisor at the Hard Rock Café in Times Square NYC, to the GM of a restaurant was so outlandish, so crazy.  

I finally convinced him it was not a trick. 

A week later, I reach out, and am told I have to interview with the person who runs the company that he is partnering with.  

On the day of the interview, I put on a suit, and head to her office.  

I was so fucking nervous.  I’d been told I had the job, but what if she hated me.

Ultimately, she did not. 

I was hired.  I had a job.  

After 6 very long months, I am employed.  

I start three weeks later. 

And every day at 9:00 I’d get to work and say just before I went in, FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT.

I’d go in and make decisions.  And put together checklists.  And make lists.  And send emails.  And I pretend I knew exactly what I was doing.  

On April 15^th, the rest of the management team started.

On May 15, we had our soft opening.  

On May 18, we opened to the public.  

We were busy right out of the gate.  

My first weekend there, everyone kept telling me I looked so calm considering how busy we were.  

Months later, I told them it was because my time at the Hard Rock in NYC that sat 800 people at one time, had taught me that 250 people was not busy.  

I truly, really, did go from waiting tables to the GM in 90 seconds.  

In truth, I was very lucky. My boss was an amazing mentor.  

And he’d hired the supporting management team, and one of those team members was Laura, who is now one of my best friends. 

She and I played restaurant off and on for five years.  

I still call it playing restaurant.

Where you sit down and shoot the shit, and figure out how to do what you need to do.  

It was ten years ago this past Tuesday, that I walked into that interview, and a wonderfully sweet man, named David Turin, took a chance on an unemployed, man.  

He saw something, that I didn’t even see in myself.  

And he said, let’s do it. 

And do it, we did.

10 years later, my career has progressed.  I have the confidence to actually say I know what I’m doing.  

I also have the knowledge to admit when I don’t know what I’m doing.  

A year and a half later, the same man, told me that Adam and I needed to buy his mother’s house.  I told him he was crazy.  But once again, he was right.  

Five months later, we moved into what has become our dream home.  

He truly did change the trajectory of my life and by default Adam’s.

I will be forever grateful.

Thank you, David.  We will never be able to repay you for the support you have given us.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’ve hired lots, and lots, and lots of people over the last 10 years.

But.

Seriously, this restaurant is the WORST for people showing up for the first day, and even worse for them coming back to actually work a second, third or 25^th day.

On Saturday, a new host started.  He was professional, great attitude, and picked up the nuances of the position right away.

He came back on Sunday and did even better.  

Today, I emailed his schedule for next week.  

Three minutes later he wrote back saying and I quote:

Hello Jeff, I won’t be returning to work at the restaurant.

No explanation.  No excuse.  No signature at the end.

One sentence.

Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.

I am back to square one.

I did email him and ask why.  Adam actually suggested I do this to make sure no one had been inappropriate with him, etc.  

He basically said that the drive was too far and that he’d been offered a job closer to his home.

Ugh.

Couldn’t he have figured this out before I interviewed him, trained him, spent money on him

Damn.  

Damn.

Damn.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

As all of you know, we went to DC two weeks ago as well.

Adam and I splurged on the trip and stayed at a nice hotel. We usually stay in less expensive hotels because we only use them for sleep. We were celebrating our anniversary and Valentine’s Day and said what the heck.  

I told them we were celebrating out anniversary when I booked it. They gave us a bottle of bubbles and chocolate upon our arrival.  

When we were there, the doormen were terrific. We got amazing service.  

The room was spectacular, with the largest hotel bathroom I’d ever seen. Two sinks. A separate shower area, big enough for a marching band.  

It was not super expensive, but it was very nice.  

So, when we discovered we were going back, we booked at the same hotel.

When we arrived this time, there was nodoorman.

We were checked in and went to our room.

There was a huge column in the middle of the room. Right in front of the table and chairs. You could not see the TV from the chairs.  

The room was a million times smaller.

And.

The best part, the bathroom was the smallest of any hotel/motel/inn/campground bathroom I’d ever seen.

To get to the shower, you had to squeeze between the toilet and the wall (I’m seriously not exaggerating) and then while standing there you had to close the door in order to get in. The shower was big enough for half of me.  

If this had been the situation on the first trip, we’d have stayed at the Holiday Inn Express five blocks down the street on the 2nd trip.

It was disappointing to say the least.  

Luckily, we only used it for sleep, so it was okay in the end. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

One of Adam’s favorite places in the world is an airport.  

When we fly, we always leave a little extra early, so that we can eat and drink before the flight.

Well, he eats.  

I drink.

This is a holdover from when I used to be nervous to fly. Many years later I don’t think about it much. Mostly because a friend once said, that if the plane crashes it will be the most exhilarating 90 seconds of your life. And she’s not wrong.

On Monday, we got to the airport early enough to have breakfast.  

We order.

We get our food.  

Three things happened at the same time.

Chef and his brother approached as they were on the same flight as us.

Adam asked me a question.

The server, who was female, asked if I wanted more coffee.

And I replied, trying to answer Adam, but answering the server instead, “That would be great, babe.”

She walked away, and I said, did I just call her BABE?

I was so embarrassed.  

When she returned, I apologized profusely.

She found the whole thing funny.

Luckily, it was time for our flight and we paid the check and left.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Adam and I went back to DC this weekend.

For the record, when I say weekend, I mean our weekend.  Monday and Tuesday.  Not the real weekend.  

We flew down Monday morning and flew back Wednesday morning.  

WOW.  

Do you guys travel a lot?

The thing is, this trip came from out of the blue.  

I work in a small town, where a very famous family lives.  They have government protection you might say.  And the people that protect the family, eat at my restaurant. 

A LOT.  

In fact, the agency, I am speaking of, honored the restaurant with an award for service to the agency, because Chef took very good care of them during COVID.  It is the only restaurant in the history of the agency to get this award.  Chef is very proud of it.  

One of the agents, eats with us almost weekly in the summer.  

And.

His son was hired a year ago to be a foodrunner, with us.    

He is a true friend to the restaurant.  

Last year, he was transferred to DC, to cover a certain more famous person.  During his last meal with us, he told me and Chef that if we ever wanted to come to DC and see the White House to let him know.

Unbeknownst to me.  Chef reached out.  

Two weeks ago, Chef told me that if Adam and I wanted to travel to DC on February 20^th, we can see the White House on Tuesday morning.  

So, Adam and I flew down on Monday.  And back on Wednesday.

And at 8:45, we arrived at the gates, with lots of other people, walked through mucho, mucho security and at 9:15 walked through the visitor’s entrance.  And we were in the White House.    

First, it’s much smaller than I thought it would be.  I’ve been in homes with much larger rooms.  

However, when you think about the history that has occurred it’s a little overwhelming.  

We only saw public areas, but it was still great.

The Vermeil Room.  

The Library.  

The China Room. 

The Movie Theater.  

Lots and lots of artwork, much of which I’ve seen in TV and movies, but up close and personal they are amazing.  A portrait of JFK.  Michelle Obama.  The Reagan’s.  The portrait of George Washington that was saved by Dolly Madison.  The portrait of Lincoln that hangs in the State dining room. 

We saw the state dining room, where a certain, person served Big Macs to a sportsball team.  

We saw the hallway, where the President walks down to give important messages.  

We were in the hallway, where an amazing photograph was taken with a Obama and his dog.    

Fun fact, the docents in each room, work for the agency, carry guns and have handcuffs.  

One of them asked if we had any questions, we did not, but the woman next to us did and started a conversation that lasted about 15 minutes.  We used our new knowledge that they know the history of the rooms to ask more and more questions as we finished our tour.  

In all it took about 90 minutes.  

And as I said, the history was amazing.  

There was also a reverence about it.  

Most of us moved through quietly, whispering to each other.  

We ended at the big entrance to the White House.  

It too, is much smaller than I thought it would be.  And kind of plain.  

But when you think of all of the insanely famous people who have walked through the doors, it is very, very special.  

We took lots of photos and were quite grateful for the ability to do this.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Tonight, a couple comes in at 7:00.

I greet them, and send them in to be seated.  

90 seconds later a man from the table comes out and asks if they can have one of the private tables.

We have two tables in our dining room that are meant to seat large parties. From 6 to 8 people. They are in rooms, with barn doors that can close them off. People ALWAYS request to sit there.  

Unfortunately, much of the time I have to say no.  

Why? Especially if no one is sitting there?

Because, I have to have a place for larger tables, should they come in. Especially when the other dining room is closed.  

What’s funny, is that it is a huge table, in a square banquet, that traps you at the table, and I think for two people it would be quite awkward.  

So, I said to the man, I can’t seat you in the private room, but I can move you to a booth.  

He declines and goes back to his table.  

90 seconds later, he appears and says, Can I change my mind and have the booth afterall. Does it cost more?

And I thought to myself. Does it cost more?

Are there restaurants who charge you based on the table you have?

This one has a $20 cover charge.

This one $100.  

This one is 50 cents because it’s next to the men’s room?

I told him of course he could change his mind. And they moved.  

And.

Like a true gentleman, I found out, that he gave his original server a $20 bill.  

What a classy move. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!!

It was busy tonight.  

Crazy, crazy busy.

The last time we did more business than tonight, was October 1, 2022.  

I ended up running the door for the most part tonight, because one of my hosts called out.

Since I was the one who was going to get yelled at if we started to back up, I played loose and fast with seating all night. I didn’t tell a single person no all night. 

Not even the guy who walked in at 5:45 looking for a 6 top reservation, when I had already told his fiancée twice earlier in the day I couldn’t do it.  

Lucky for him a 4 top cancelled about 90 seconds before he came in, and I moved things around so I could accommodate them at a larger table.  

He was beside himself, because story had it, he was supposed to make this reservation 2 weeks ago. He gave me 40 bucks on his way out to say thanks you.  

EVERYONE who came in was told to stand over there and wait and let me see what I could do.

And I’d look at the I-pad and eventually say yes, even though it was truly gambling tonight.  

Truly.  

We did back up around 7:45 because tables stopped turning.

We were very backed up at 8:00.  

I had a 2-top with a reservation and I did not have a place for them.  

I needed a miracle.

And true to form, it worked out and things started to open up.

Now to the point of my story.

At 7:45, the phone rings.

I answer.  

A man tells me he has a reservation at 8:00 and is going to be late.  

I tell him to take his time, because god knows I need the time.  

The 8:00’s start to arrive.  

The phone rings.  

Same man telling me that he is going to be on time.

Ugh.  

I’ve already moved things around. I don’t have time to move them back.

Here’s the thing.

We have a section of our restaurant that is quite lovely, but it’s not part of the main dining room and we save the 2-tops in that area till day of. I you call me on a busy Saturday night in August, at 4:15 that’s where you are going to be sitting.  

I try, try, try never to seat people there who made their reservations two weeks ago. Sometimes I have to, but I try really hard not to.

It’s now 8:00.  

There are four couples waiting to be seated. 2 at the bar. 2 in the dining room.  

In walks my late table, who is now on time.  

I get them checked in.  

Tables are opening I start seating people.

The bar first. Always first.

They are easy to seat and it can clear the lobby of 7 or 8 people in a matter of seconds.

I have three couples waiting now.  

I seat 2 girls who’ve just come in.  

The woman who is part of my late/on time table comes ups and says, “excuse me. We have an 8:00 reservation. I’d appreciate it if you could seat us on time.”  

I say of course, unfortunately, you called to say that you were going to be late.

She interrupts and says, yes, but we called back to say we’d be on time.

I explain that I’d already moved things around to accommodate everyone and I’ll get them seated as soon as I can.

She gets mad now and says, I understand that, but the two girls who just got sat came in after us. I don’t appreciate being skipped over.  

I apologize and ask her to give me a couple of seconds.  

She is seated immediately.  

Back story.  

The two girls were seated in a row to 2 tops in the dining room. Think NYC restaurant, where there is banquette with 6 or 7 deuces very close together.  

The late/on time table, I had planned to sit at a nicer table, because as luck would have it Chef knew them. I was waiting for the 4-top they were going to be seated at, to be readied.  

But.  

Ask and you shall receive.

Instead, they were seated at G-6. The absolute worst table in the restaurant because it was the only table I had that was ready.  

It’s by the door to the gallery area, it slams and there is a wind tunnel every time the door opens.

As they leave the lobby to be seated, the couple remaining looks at me and says, excuse me, we demand to be seated right now as well.  

Then they laugh.  

Their reservation is for 8:30. They were going to go to G-6. They made their reservation about 6:00 tonight.  

I laugh and say that I’m glad that I had a witness to that. They ask if it happens a lot and I say more than I’d like.

I let them know that I’ll be seating them very soon.

And ask if they’d like to know a secret.

I swear them to not repeat it, 

And then I tell them that they were supposed to get the table that I sat the couple at. But since she insisted that I seat them immediately, they were now seated there. And fun fact, it’s the worst table in the restaurant.  

They laugh, and I send them on their way to a lovely 4 top table where they can spread out and be comfortable.  

90 minutes later, late/on time couple leaves. I head to the lobby in case there is any push back. The woman goes to the restroom and her boyfriend walks over and apologizes for the outburst when they arrived.  

I thank him and tell him I was glad he enjoyed his meal.  

As they say, be careful what you wish for. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I have had amazing people work for me over the years. 

AMAZING.

All with different talents. 

Some were grumpy but could bartend like a champ.

Some were sweet and could calm every situation with a smile.

Some were just kind, nice, loving, and giving.  

Some were troubled, and sad, and we supported them as they did their jobs.    

All of them were talented and I still love all of them.  They know who they are.  

Tonight.  

One of those people had their last shift with me.  

He gave his notice a month ago.  

He’s taken a real job.  (Real jobs are stupid.  So is college.  Fight me on this).  

Since the real job will let him work from anywhere, he’s headed west to stay with friends.  

Idaho to be exact.  

It was bittersweet today during pre-shift when Chef thanked him for his service.  

I echoed the sentiments, reminding everyone that this was our third job together. 

He worked with me in Portland.  He worked with me in Ogunquit.  Both times less than 2 months.  Both times because I moved on.  

This time it’s been 18 months.

He has been an exemplary employee and more than that, he’s one of the good ones.

Tonight, he ordered a 2” NY Strip as his last meal.  Chef cooked it for him.  Then also served up a huge platter of French Fries, with chicken parmesan and a fried egg on top.  He and his cohort in crime enjoyed it while everyone else finished up.  

Around 11:00 we said our goodbyes.  

I gave him a huge hug and wished him well, after reminding him for the 2,956 time that real jobs are dumb. 

I wish him well.  And I speak for everyone at my restaurant when I say he will be missed terribly.  

Best of luck my friend. 

Go out and do great things. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

You ever get a big fat red flag when you hear from someone?  

When they reach out for a favor?

When they reach out for a job?

When they continue to reach out for a job?

Just before Xmas a man came into the restaurant on a Saturday night, told the host that he had been hired as a bartender at the new restaurant and was coming in to check things out. 

He wanted a seat at the bar, but of course we were busy and there wasn’t one.  

He wandered into the bar, came back and asked if he could have a drink standing out of the way to watch the goings on.  

The hosts told him unfortunately no.

He was not pleased with this news at all.  

He finally left.

My only regret was that they didn’t let me get eyes on him.  

At the first of January, he reached out on Social Media, to ask about being hired.

I told him the same thing I tell everyone, including, people I know.

Send me your resume.  

He responded with an email, about how he loved the new restaurant as a kid, how he wanted to bartend and would like to speak with me.  

I once again, advised him to forward his resume, that we weren’t hiring, but I would keep his resume on file until we were.  

Two days ago, I got another email from him asking me if I was local during the winter.  And if we could speak on the phone. 

Huh?

I’m the GM of a year-round restaurant in town.  Of course, I’m not local.  I’m in Key West shot gunning  Corona’s hoping that the restaurant, which is still busy by the way, can run itself.

I write back and explain that yes I’m local.  And asked what the phone call would be regarding…

Today I got the following email:

Hi,

I don’t have a resume of all my restaurant and hospitality experience.  I feet more comfortable explaining why I want to work at the new restaurant over the phone rather than a generic resume.  I am curious as to what the plans are for the new space—I have some ideas.  All I ask is a phone call or I can meet you at the restaurant before opening next week.  Heck, even Chef gave me 5 minutes when I stopped by a few weeks ago.  

Thanks.  

I have not responded. 

A friend said I should at least BE curious about the phone call.  

But here’s the deal, if a grown person can’t follow the basic instructions in getting the job, will they ever be able to follow the more emphatic instructions that come with the day-to-day operations of the restaurant.  

Also, I’m fucking in the weeds.  Last night I stayed 90 minutes after service was over to get a little caught up.  

At the end of the night tonight, Chef reminded me of at least 6 things I was supposed to get accomplished today, and they are still on my to do list.  I left work at 11:00.  

I’m also a little worried in today’s climate as to what happens if I don’t hire him.  

And.

Everyone wants to be a bartender.

And I do mean everyone.

So many people walk through the door, saying they worked at the diner across town, but they’d be happy to train on the bar.  

Or they beertended at the brewery up north and so they know they can absolutely kill at our bar.  

They’ll come in to interview as a host, with no restaurant experience and in 90 seconds will tell me they really want to hear about the bartending position.   

Fun fact:  The bartenders at my restaurant get royally ramrodded every night.  We flat seat 75 people in 15 minutes.  This means 75 cocktails, beer and wine, that are put out by 5:20.  This is absolutely not for the faint of heart.  I’ve seen bartenders crash and burn under less stress.  And 90% of our guests start with a cocktail.  You are not popping open a few Budweisers.  You are making 25 espresso martinis to start your night.  And just as you get caught up, the wine orders start to appear, and as this occurs as we flat seat another 50 people at 5:30.  

Yes.  There are two bartenders.  But the one NOT on service bar, has been flat sat 6 couples.  And before he’s got their orders in the POS he is going to be flat sat another 6 couples.  He’s not helping much on service bar.  

They do make excellent money.  But they work hard for it.  Very.  Very.  Hard.  

So, the idea that I’m going to hire someone, who is not well versed in high volume service bar execution for our new restaurant, is seriously, NOT very likely to happen.   

So I’m at a loss as to what to do.  

And I truly don’t have time to spend even 15 minutes not getting the six things off my to do list tomorrow.  

Thoughts?