I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I don’t even know where to start tonight.  And I never have that problem. 

Today is Monday.  Monday’s have been the worst all summer.  85% of everything really bad that happened this summer happened on a Monday. 

So imagine my surprise when it didn’t rain today.  I was in a great mood.  My staff all seemed happy. 

All of the guests I encountered were happy beyond belief.  So many first timers.  So many people who live near us, who hadn’t dined with us before. 

To of my dearest friends in the area came in for dinner and it was not great to see them and chat even for just a moment. 

I actually got to enjoy the work today.  I floated from spot to spot having fun.  Joking with our team.  Joking with guests.  Joking with chef.  It was a great shift.

And at 8:25, I was standing at the host stand, while my host went out to the patio to make sure our last reservation had been sat. 

The host arrived back at 8:30 to say our last 2 top was seated.  We were all in. 

I go to the chef and let him know that we are all in, and that we have 5 open.

In regular people speak, that means all of our reservations have arrived and that we have 5 guests, who have not ordered yet. 

It’s 8:30 on our Friday night.  This never happens.  The late reservations always come late.  We are poised to have an early night. 

This is especially great because it’s payroll Monday and I have a lot to do before I can go home after everyone is finished. 

The host arrives back at the door and we are chatting, when a car pulls into the parking lot.  I say I wonder who this could be, mentally preparing for whether or not I would seat them. 

Closing time for us is not concrete.  Our website lists our hours as 5:00 to close.  We do this because there is no way to know how the end of the night is going to go.  Some nights we seat walk ins until 9:30.  Some nights we don’t seat anyone after 8:00. 

We are all in, I’m prepared to turn whomever it is away.

The door opens and in walks a man carrying a brief case and two shoulder bags.  For a minute I thought he was carrying luggage. 

He asks what time we close and I said, we closed at 8:30. 

He replies, great, I just made it, I’d like to get some dinner. 

It’s 8:42 at this point.  I know, because I looked at my watch before I replied. 

I say, our last reservations tonight were at 8:30, I can seat you but you’ll have to order immediately. 

I tell him this, and usually any table we seat after our last reservations so that they don’t think they can wait thirty minutes to place their order.  I set the expectations and I always say, you can stay as long as you like up to 1:00 a.m. after you order, but we’ll need your order in the next 10 minutes or so. 

He responds great, I’d like a booth where I can spread out…

Oh.  No.  No.  No.  You are not going to do work here.  We are not that restaurant.  We don’t have internet.  And no.  No.  No.  That’s not going to happen. 

I say to him, at this point we only have bar seating, so let me know what you want to do. 

He asks for a second and then puts his three bags down and leaves the lobby and goes into the restaurant. 

He is gone for what seems like a million years.  I thought he’d actually gone to the bathroom to poop he was gone so long. 

He was gone so long that I told the host that we would NOT seat him when he returned. 

Finally, he comes back into the lobby and what followed was the strangest, weirdest, chaotic, eccentric, peculiar, outlandish, creepy, kooky, bizarre, unusual, odd, erratic and mystifying conversations I’ve ever had in the history of my life. 

I’m 57 years old and in all of my time nothing compares to anything I experienced tonight.  Not in the restaurant business.  Not in the theater world.  Not in the friends I’ve had who went koo koo for coco puffs.  Not from drunk people I’ve watched throw up.  Not for people hi on something who can’t string two syllabals together.  I’ve seen homeless people in NYC who are passed out on the subway be less concerning. 

My host texted me and said it was the strangest thing in her 19 years of life. 

Seriously. 

At one point, I’m pretty sure my host who was standing to the left of me started to leave and I kicked her.  Harder than I meant, but I knew NO ONE would believe me when I shared this.  Eventually, we switched sides at the host stand and she pulled out her note pad and wrote, IS THIS MAN ON DRUGS?

So let me remind you that I’m not a person who remembers conversations.  Often when I’m replaying conversations on here I’m doing a lot of paraphrasing.  I have so many friends who can quote verbatim anything said to them. 

I’m so bad at it that when the encounter was over, exactly 20 minutes later, my host and I did a stream of consciousness to write down as much as we could remember.  In fact she texted me a few things we’d forgotten after she got home tonight.

So here is what took place, in my words best that I remember them.

First, unbeknownst, to me, he did not go poop.  He went into the dining room.  Where he was in the way, but also looking around.  He then went into the bar area, looked around some more than then exited through the dining room fire exit that is not alarmed.  From there, we went to the back of the restaurant where the patio is, then came in through what we call the Gallery, inspected every room there and then found his way back to the lobby where he says,

There are a lot of empty tables in there. 

I know where this is going, and at this point he’s not getting seated, so I say, thank you for stopping in we hope to see you some other time. 

And he looks at me and I’ve seen this look a million times.  It’s the how dare you say no to me. 

He says, thank you?  Thank you?  I know what you are doing here.  I see all the cars in the parking lot.  I know what you all are up to.  I know.

I wait.

He continues.  There so many empty tables in here but I know with all the cars in the parking lot what is going on here. 

Uh, I’m sorry sir,  What is it exactly that is going on?

You know exactly what I mean.  You know. 

I assure him that I don’t know. 

Everything that followed was him insulting me, it without stating the insult.  He reminded me of the woman who kept asking if I was calling her a liar.  This guy, never said an offense thing to me, but he certainly implied a lot of offensive things. 

For the life of me I can’t remember everything, but at one point he ask me what the writing on his hat meant.  It was a chemistry equation, and I said, I have no idea, and he said I thought not.  I knew you had not idea what was no my hat.  Of course not.  How could you?

I explained I had no idea what his point was and he responded, I’m not making point but I knew you’d have no ida. 

Have you ever heard of law school.  I doubt very seriously if you even know what law school is.  It’s where people go to study the law.  I went to law school and I studied the law, but you wouldn’t understand that now would you. 

I explain that yes I know what law school is but once again I don’t understand the point and he once again replied, I’m not making a point. 

He then starts telling a story about how he went to a city south of us last night and arrived at 9:30 and they closed at 9:00.  But they knew how to treat people, and sat him right away and were courteous and hospitable toward him and that he ordered a very delicious salad to go.  He normally brings his dinner to the restaurant with him as he likes to eat healthy when he spreads out to work but last night he treated himself to a salad at the restaurant where they knew how to treat him.

I ask him if he’s suggesting we treated him less than hospitable and once again he says, I’m not suggesting anything I just know that the restaurant from last night knew how to treat people.

He continues about the city south of us, you know years ago I worked for a company that helped develop the downtown.  And I had a friend who worked for the company and he was a structural engineer and the helped develop the down town and when I went into the restaurant at 9: 30 I asked for a water view and they gave me a water view.  I bet you can’t even give me a water view.

I try to explain that we aren’t near the water but he pushes past me and continues. 

He says that he spent the day in a little town 45 minutes west of us.  He went to five meetings today.  Five.  He’s been busy all day.  And he’s driven past our restaurant many times and didn’t want to stop because he’d heard bad things but tonight he was driving and he looked up at the night sky and what would you know, the NORTH star directed him to our restaurant.  He thought, how else would you find this place out in the middle of nowhere.  And now that he had found it, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to eat there. 

He continues to make implications that we are a tourist trap.  That our restaurant is not good.  And that he doesn’t know why people come there.  At one point he does say the space is pretty but he’s not so sure about the food. 

As he is saying all of this, I’m am thinking to myself.  What the fucking fuck.

And I engage him.  Not in a negative way.  At least not at first.  I just answer his questions without answering them.  And wait for him to finish. 

At one point he takes a breath and stops and I ask him exactly what point he is trying to make and he says that this is a social experiment that he is doing and he’s not sure we are passing. 

As he speaks and implies that we are less than good, it’s now approaching 9:00.  People are starting to leave.  And about every 90 seconds guests walk into the lobby and experience what is going on.

A woman comes in who left her credit card at the bar.  She walks in just as the man implies once again that we are a terrible restaurant.  He said something and I ask her how her meal was while the host gets her card.  She can’t stop gushing as he continues.  

The host returns with the credit card and the woman looks me in the eye…think Dracula putting staring longingly at you and says, I’m so sorry I have to leave you with this. 

She leaves and he continues.  ‘

People coming and going.  Also unbeknownst to me, one of my servers has gone to drop a check at a large party she had, and they tell her something is happening in the lobby.  You can’t get through and there is a man lecturing the hosts. 

She appears and witnesses a few minutes on the drama.

He continues.

At his point it’s been well over 15 minutes and I am starting to get pissed.  I tell him several times that we are an amazing restaurant and perhaps he should try it sometime.

He keeps asking questions, deflecting when I respond with a question. 

At one point he asks if I’m the manager or the owner.  I tell him it’s really none of his business but I am the General Manager.  He makes another comment implying that I’m not educated and I snap saying that he needs to stop and that I happen to have three degrees all from reputable schools and that unfortunately none of my degrees are law degrees or chemistry. 

He asks for a card at one point and I give him the generic card we have out with just our phone number on it.  He makes a comment that it’s been years since he saw a business that didn’t print people’s names on their cards.  He makes another snide comment about the card and I say, sir if you’d like a card with a name, here is my business card and this has my name AND my email if you need it. 

He continues and continues.

People come and go.  What is most notable, is not one person left without making a point about how great the experience was.  I’d stop listening to the man and would comment. 

People come and go.  I look up and very attractive man (not important to the story, but it he was a nice distraction while it was happening) is leaning against the front door frame waiting for his wife to come out of the restroom.  He is listening but trying to be as small as possible not to be drawn into the conversation.  His wife comes out of the restroom as the man…

Is finally done.  I motion for them to wait. 

I don’t remember what caused him to leave but he picks up his three bags, puts them all on his shoulder.  Makes three or four more strange comments.  And walks out. 

I hold up my finger in a 5^th grade school teacher sort of way, so that everyone knew NOT to speak until the door closed.

It closed and I said to everyone, that was the strangest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced in my whole fucking life.

The couple were very understanding.  And asked lots of questions.

They got to experience my rant as I could stop exclaiming how ludicrous is was.

They finally leave and I turn to Olivia and say, get some paper lets write this shit down.

And for 10 minutes we wrote everything we could remember. Servers came with requests and I did the 5^th grade finger thing again and told them to come back.

For Olivia and me it was stream of consciousness, just me saying things and her writing them down.  We had 3.5 pages when she was done and it didn’t come close to capturing the realness of what had happened.

The first thing I said as she started to write was OF COURSE IT’S MONDAY!!!

I also said he continue to insult me, without actually saying anything offensive.  He’s walk up to the line, spit over  it but NEVER step over it. 

Meanwhile, I’m exhausted from the experience.  I have three more hours of work in front of me.  Chef had told me he’d cook me steak at 8:30 and now it’s 9:15 and my steak is sitting on the chef’s table getting cold and continuing to cook. 

It’s 2:00 and I’m as exhausted thinking about it now as I was then. 

Just think, at 8:30 I was going to write about the couple who complained about the chicken because it was difficult to eat because it was NOT skinless. 

And now I have a short play just waiting to be written. 

And when I write the play I’ll get someone famous to play Olivia who just stands there and listens and gets kicked every so often. 

It’s late. I’ll edit this when I retire. I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

The following is the post that started it all. 

It was about a year ago this week.  I’d been posting all summer, but this one sealed the deal. 

The night before I’d been yelled at about warm wine.  I wrote about that exchange but this is the one that made me know I wanted to write on a regular basis again.

 I drove home rehearsing all the things that I’d wish that I’d said to the wine people.  I’m not a very good arguer.  Ask Adam, in the moment I shut down.  But I’m Perry Fucking Mason about three minutes after it’s over. 

So imagine my surprise when 24 hours later, I’m in the same situation and I can actually say all the things I rehearsed from the night before. 

Including the line about The New York Times writing an article on bad restaurant patrons. 

At that point all of my FB posts had started out with

Dining Out Tip:

A few weeks later, I made a post that wasn’t a tip on dining out, but was more a commentary, and someone pointed out that it wasn’t a tip and suggested I change the name of my posts. 

It was Adam that came up with the I’d like to speak to the manager!!!, tag line. 

I went back after I realized I wanted to write these and scrolled through two months’ worth of Facebook posts and cut and pasted them into a word document.  I then, copied them into my blog at

id-like-to-speak-to-the-manager.com  (As always, feel free to share this link with your friends). 

Here’s the post that started it all!!!!

Dining out rule.

Strike that.

Being a good human rule.

Do not. I repeat. Do not do the right thing, then demand something in return.

Tonight was a hard night for me because one of our hosts called out. I was stuck on the door as a result. Around 8:30 a server came to find me because she had an upset guest. She was so distraught she couldn’t even explain the problem. She finally sent me to her co-worker so he could bring me up to speed before I visited the table.

Seems that the guest in question had been presented their check. Upon receiving it, the guest discovered that their entrees were not on the bill. They brought it to the attention of their server. Upon presentation of the check they inquired as to what their compensation would be. What were we going to do for them?

The servers were dumbstruck. The guest did the right thing, but were now demanding a reward.

So the servers fetched me.

I went to the table. Where I was immediately inundated with all the reasons we needed to do something for them. Ultimately they felt like they deserved a reward. I explained to them that that’s not how life works. I explained if the same thing happened at a bank the bank wouldn’t give them free money. It only escalated from there. I finally asked if they only give to charity if the charity offers them a service.

I was then called an asshole. I was also told over and over that they saved our asses.

Then I was called an asshole again.

And then again.

I finally said I was going to get the check for them. I did decide to take one entrée off the check. However when I got back they started again. I finally said I felt sad for them that they really only do the right thing for the reward. I was called an asshole again. I explained that we are a business trying to survive during a pandemic. I’m called an asshole again and was told that was no excuse. They were saving our asses.

I leave the check and say the server will be by for payment. I walk back to the bar. I should state I’m on the patio. I’m now waiting in the patio bar. The next thing I know one of them walks up to me, throws the check presenter at me, slams his hand down on the counter and proceeds to yell at me some more. Before I can respond a woman at the bar turns on him, tells him to calm the fuck down. That she’s trying to eat and that he’s out of line. She was at the bar when I was being appraised of the problem. This doesn’t deter him and he keeps yelling. I tell him if he doesn’t calm down I’ll call the cops and they can help with the situation.

He leaves.

We run the credit cards and I return to the table. He starts again. Calls me an asshole again. I should mention that I’m acutely aware that this whole series of exchanges are being witnessed by other tables. I finally say to him. Sir. You may think what you want. By I suggest you subscribe to the New York Times. Because three weeks ago they ran a story about why people like you are making it so difficult for people in the restaurant business. He told me again how he saved my ass. Called me an asshole. And I walked away.

I go back to the bar. I must admit. I’m NOT shaken. These types of encounters just piss me off. When I get back, the women at the bar have a lot to say about the man. I promptly thank them for coming to my defense and buy the drinks they are consuming. Two seconds later a woman comes out of the bathroom and proceeds to tell me she kept her husband from chewing them a new ass and how great it was that I didn’t bow down to them. I bought her drinks too.

The whole exchange was surreal. They felt that I should buy their whole check because they did the right thing. The one man said over and over he was saving our asses. I might point out we are a steak house. There were no steaks on their check. They’d ordered the cheapest entrees. Not that I care. It’s just if they hadn’t paid it would have been about $125 dollars. Not exactly the end of the road for us.

After this exchange I hid from everyone for about an hour. I needed quiet. I stood at the host stand saying goodbye to people instead of my usual routine.

Did I really owe him more than the $33 dollar entree I comped.

PS. They did tip 18% on their check so they weren’t all bad.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Tonight at 5:00 we had at least four tables walk in with small kids.  Like really small kids. 

Each of one of them asked for a high chair. 

Only the first one got one.  We have two. One for inside.  One for outside. 

It actually says on Resy that we have NO high chairs and NO kids menu. 

The second table through the door tonight with a small kid, became outraged at this.  He told the person who sat him how displeased he was.  He told me.  He told the host at least 4,694 times.  At one point he yelled at his server, you need more high chairs in this restaurant. 

Here’s the thing.  We post that we don’t have them. 

We don’t say no to having kids in the restaurant, but the chef, who writes the checks each day to keep the doors open has made a call on how he wants to run the restaurant.  And I support his call.

People are spending lots and lots and lots of money at our restaurant for a nice experience.  And while he doesn’t say no to kids, he does nothing to promote bringing them in.

And here’s the thing.  Every kid is different.  Every family is different.  We had a family of four in the other day and the parents ordered both of their children filets, medium rare, with sides and they behaved and all was good in the world. 

Meanwhile, a family of 12 comes in on Thursday night, four adults and 96 children and they order three entrees and one coke.  They stayed for 2 hours and their kids were horrible.  Running and screaming.  I was terrified that they were going to be hit by a car after they ate, because the parents sent their children to play in the parking lot, while they talked at the table.  Our parking lot is lit, but not for children to play at night. 

Anyway, I get why we don’t have high chairs.

And PS, as I told a guy the other day, I’m sorry that your son is a picky eater, but you cannot bring McDonald’s chicken nuggets for him to have while you eat dinner.  Perhaps we should charge a $68 plating charge for kids meals, sort of like a plating charge for cake. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Today I noticed 2 five top reservations with the same last name. 

I knew what they were up to but I also knew that there was a message on our reservation system letting people know the result of trying this.

And what would you know I was right.

The first table arrives, checks in and lets us know they’ll be six.  They also ask to sit together and I let them know that this can’t be facilitated.  They sit without incident.

The second table arrives, checks in and lets us know that they’ll be six also.  The woman explains that our reservation system would only allow for 5.  I say yes, but you’ve arrived for 6.  She says, yes, because it wouldn’t let us make a reservation for 6. 

I then explain that they aren’t really five or six but 12 instead, and she very excitedly says yes.

Ugh.

However, they sat down.  They ate dinner.   They didn’t put the 6 year olds at one table and the adults at another table  (By the way, I will no longer allow this.  Our restaurant policy is that underage minors must be accompanied by one adult to dine at a table).  This keeps a server who draws the short straw from having four cokes and four cheeseburgers, while mommy and daddy share a bottle of wine and a Wagyu steak. 

However, the point of all of this, is I actually made sure I was at the door when they arrived just in case drama ensued.  But they were all so nice.  They ate dinner at their appropriate tables and all was good. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’ve been back down south for over a year now. 

And I’ve reconnected with lots of people who used to come to my restaurant.

But, every once in a while I think to myself I wonder if this person, or that couple still comes to our little town.

For example there is the couple I met one winter, who became regulars, who were staying in the hotel.  They were there because he’d just gotten out of the hospital after recovering from a heart attack.  He was 53.  His doctor told him to change his ways or else.  So they’d leave the kids at home and he and his wife would come visit.  He’d eat salmon, and drink iced tea.  And try to be healthy. 

There was the older couple who used to own a group of liquor and wine stores in Massachusetts.   They came all year.  One day, they show up with a bottle of really, really expensive bubbles and give it to me.  I thanked them and asked why they were giving it to me.  They said because the last time they had dined with us, I’d told them that we were having a wedding.  They thought that Adam and I had gotten married.  We had a big laugh when I explained that the restaurant was hosting a wedding, and that Adam has yet to say yes. 

There is also the couple that I met one night after the man sat at our bar for four hours insisting that his date was going to show up.  He had dinner.  And a few drinks.  And a few more drinks.  His date, who was his wife, showed up right before closing.  He introduced me and I ended up getting them dinner reservation for the next night at a sister property.  They continued to come back and shared later that they had conceived their daughter that night.  Turns out they’d had a big fight and eaten dinner separately.  I have not seen them since I started my new job. 

And there was the family who would come in three or four times a summer.  A mom, a dad and three boys.  The whole family was beautiful. The couple was mixed race.  And their sons were perfect.     Remarkably attractive.  Straight out of a magazine.

And what would you know that I looked up at the door tonight and the wife was standing in front of me.  And I might have fangirled out over it and I’m 99% sure that I made her uncomfortable. 

But I told her that since I’d been back in town there were people I wondered about occasionally and it was finally nice to see them again.  Her sons were no longer boys.   They were young men.  At least one of them was old enough to drink now.  (We hope).  And my two hosts were in love.  They were model, beautiful.   Seriously, any of the three could be on a runway. 

It was so great to see the whole family.    

They were so nice and I hope they had a good time. 

And I’m sure I made them uncomfortable. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

My day was the same as it always is.

Got up, showered, out the door in 13.5 minutes. 

Ignoring the cat throw up by the back door hoping that Adam wouldn’t be mad that I didn’t clean it up.   

Get in my car, and drive to work. 

I call Adam before I pull out of the driveway most days, so that I can be hands-free.

Most days we chat for about 3 minutes, because he is busy, busy, busy.

Today was the same.

I then turn on the radio, and the first thing I hear is the DJ saying, sometimes, I take my dog into restaurants and say he’s a service animal.  Don’t beat be up, it’s my first day here and I don’t want to cause any trouble.

And I think to myself…what a fucked up world… 

Seriously?  You make it worse for the people who actually have and more importantly NEED service animals. 

And at 4:56 today, I hear a call on my radio to come to the patio.  I get there and what would you know a woman is standing in the parking lot not looking happy because she has been told we don’t allow dogs. 

However, she insists that she called and we told her that of course we are dog friendly.

We are not. 

Thankfully it was cool enough by 5:00 that they could leave the dog in the car and still enjoy dinner.

But don’t do that people. 

Don’t.

Don’t put your dog in your purse.  Don’t bring it in a carrier.  Don’t tell me your therapy dog is a support animal.  Because while I respect the need for both, they are not the same.

And please for the love of all things holy don’t tell people you do this on the radio. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Two things happened of tonight that are worth mentioning.

First.

A woman walked in with a cup of wine in her hand.

I ask her if I could take that, and without a thought handed it to me and said, I was just looking for a trash can.  She said the rubbish actually. 

And what would you know?  She was seated.  Had a marvelous dinner with her 16 family members and couldn’t thank me enough for the event.

See.  It’s not hard to do the right thing.

Meanwhile, at 6:45 tonight our parking lot was full.  It has been a problem all summer.  We have more staff and they take up more spots. 

AND.

We have more guests and they take up more spots. 

Although, it wouldn’t be a problem at all if each person dining in my restaurant didn’t come in their own individual car.  I’ve watched families, who live together come in separate cars.  There is a family who lives about .000001 miles from my restaurant and they drive.  EVERY SINGLE TIME. 

So tonight at 6:45 I’m in the restaurant and I see a car parked illegally. 

Now, full disclosure.  He’s parked illegally where cars park every day.   

BUT:

He’s parked horizontally (I’ve used this word in two posts tonight) taking up three spots.  Yes the AUDI he is driving is nice but not when it’s sitting next to the Bentley’s, Lamborghinis, and Maserati’s that are often in our parking lot. 

I catch the driver as he is looking for his companions who are each in their own cars. 

I walk up to him and say, hey, do you mind parking horizontally so more cars can fit in that area.

And he snaps at me and says, YOU KNOW THERE IS NO PARKING OUT HERE.  YOU NEED MORE PARKING NOW!!!

Seriously?

I look at him and think what would you like me to do?  Pull some out of my ass.  Instead I say thin air.

And he says yeah, do you have a fucking magic want. 

I can’t already.

He goes to move the car.  I go inside. 

I realize as I go inside, I actually know him.  He and his three friends come in all the time in the winter.  I did not recognize him with his sunglasses. 

When I see him sitting at the chef’s table and realize who he is, I check the reservation to make sure then go back to find him.

He isn’t there but I see him in the parking lot.

He was looking for me to apologize for being such a dick.  I told him appreciated that, and that I was sorry I was short with him.

We chatted for a few minutes and then he went back in to dinner.  I spoke to the table before they got their entrees and he sought me out again when they were leaving. 

He was very nice and I told him we’d laugh about it this winter when there were more empty parking spots than people in the building. 

He agreed.

It was nice change of pace to say the least. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!!

Hi all!!!

Thanks for all the insight into the ID question. 

The points of view were quite interesting.

First, the kid did drink in my establishment last night.  He had a Moscow Mule.  (Who knew a 19 year old even knew what that was).  He showed the server the ID.  And how do I know this?  Because I spoke to my staff about this at pre-shift today and his server from last night knew exactly how old he was. 

Second, it was not someone else’s ID.  Both ID’s had his name on them.  The real ID had his photo from when he was probably 15 and got the ID.  The fake ID was taken more recently, and was definitely him.  Two different birthdays though. 

It was a California ID and in CA, when the person is under 21 the ID is vertical.  When you renew you get a horizontal ID.  He had one of each. 

As for looking in his wallet:   It was not a wallet like mine, which is a George Constanza wallet. It had a couple of credit cards an ID and a fake ID. 

As for whether or not I remove it is stealing, I don’t know.  I’m not a police officer nor am I a lawyer.  I have friends who are both who read this, perhaps they’d like to weigh in.

Last night on my way home, I had decided to return it.  18 year old Jeff, getting in to bars at Eastern Kentucky University, appreciated the ID he purchased in NYC back in 1902. 

Many of you support my stance.

I did know that I wanted to read your responses before I made a final decision.

I got to work today and checked voicemails.  While I was checking the voicemails, he called.  I didn’t answer not to be difficult but as a practice I don’t answer any calls until I record the messages and sit down with coffee for the day at the chef’s table.

After I sat down, I pulled out my phone and read your responses.   

Two things stood out.

One of my friends said that 18 year old her would have been grateful, but the 44 year old her with a teenage son, thought differently.

This coupled with a post I read from another friend who said that two teenagers, who attended her son’s school, had been killed by  drunk drivers this week and my decision was made.

The kid is rich. 

He won’t have trouble getting another ID.  He was underage drinking last night with his mom present, so she’s not really the adult in the situation.

If I can stop him from killing someone for the next month while he waits for his new ID to come then so be it.

And if it is against the law, then I guess I’ll take my punishment.

Meanwhile, he never called back.  The ID is in my office.  His wallet is at the host stand waiting. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

The weather here finally broke this week. 

Last week was hot and humid.  Think central Kentucky hot, with temps in the high 90’s and the only way the humidity could be higher was if it were actually raining.

Hot.  Muggy.  Sweltering. 

Oppressive to quote my friend Donna Jo. 

The a/c in our restaurant struggled all last week.  It is not meant to work as hard as it was, because temps aren’t supposed to be that hot here.

Today was the opposite. 

Today was one of those perfect days here.  The right temp all day.

And inside it was the perfect amount of cool. 

At least to me.

Table 37 was seated at 7:00 and the first thing they did was to complain about the temperature.  The women were cold. 

I moved the thermostat from 70* to 71*.  They were happy. 

And it stayed on 71* for about an hour, until I came in from outside at one point and it was HOT in the dinning room.  HOT. 

I was glad Jen was not working as she’d have been melting. 

So, I moved the thermostat from 71* to 70* and wouldn’t you know 90 seconds later the server comes and tells me the table 37 is cold again.

And I think to myself, do I turn the thermostat up for five people or leave it where it is for 102 people. 

I left it alone.

Sometimes my comfort trumps everyone else’s comfort. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

One of our last reservations tonight was a table of young people, I’d guess 17, 18, 19, and they were seated at the chef’s table.  They were very nicely behaved and ordered well.  Mom did arrive just after entrees were delivered and stayed and paid the check. 

One of the kids ordered a drink from the bar.  I didn’t ask but I certainly hope that the server carded him.

They were very pleasant, stayed far longer than I thought they would, as they were the second to last table to leave for the evening.

I thanked them as they were leaving, and went back to my laptop.

Fast forward 90 minutes and I’m closing up the restaurant.  I go into the lobby to plug the IPad in to charge overnight and I see a wallet on the host stand.  No one had mentioned finding a wallet, but they left it where they were supposed to. 

I open the wallet and it belongs to the young person who made the reservation for tonight for the 4 top.  I know this because his ID is front and center like it would be in most wallets.  

I don’t know why I checked the wallet, but I looked in one of the pockets and what would you know it was another ID. 

The first ID which was a photo of him said he’d turn 21 in 2024. 

The second ID said he was 22 and was born in 2000. 

I thought to myself hmmm…..

Do I keep the fake ID?  Or do I return it to the wallet and say nothing?

19 year old Jeff would have been very happy to have the ID returned to him. 

Rule following, 57 year old Jeff said to keep the ID and tell him to be more careful next time. 

WWJD? 

I put the ID back.  But he won’t be able to get the wallet until I get there tomorrow. 

So, here is my question:

What would you do?