Several weeks ago I turned off the ability to make reservations through Google. They didn’t allow messaging. There were 6 steps to making the reservation and every day someone showed up without a reservation they thought they had.

This was not a problem in the winter. In summer it caused me to get yelled at more times than I can count.

Tonight someone came in with what they thought was a reservation they made weeks ago.

They got indignant and pulled out their phone. They show us a text.

A text that says this is your reservation code. This is NOT a confirmation of your reservation.

Luckily we had a seat for them.

But still.

The text this is not a reservation.

Tonight a regular was in. It was the first time she’d been in for a while

I knew she’d need a broad attending a wedding.

I only talk led to her briefly tonight because we were busy.

But the wedding was in India.

And was 5 days long.

And cost more than 8 million dollars.

Yes.

You.

Read.

That.

Correctly.

8 million dollars.

She has photos she said she’d show me when it was slower.

She said she snapped them as subtly as she could.

8 Million.

Dollars.

Tonight at 8:30 one of my bartenders approach me to ask if I have time to speak to someone wanting to know if we are hiring.

Seriously.

8:30.

Saturday night.

Still cranking.

Read the room, fellow.

Read the room.

I had her give him my card.

We’ll see if he emails me.

We have two regulars at the bar.

Super nice. They take good care of the bartenders.

But.

They are full of suggestions as to what we should serve.

Two weeks ago, one of them pulls me aside to tell me we need to serve mac and cheese with Gouda.

Hmmm. Okay???

Tonight he pulls me aside to tell me he doesn’t like one of our new additions to the menu. Actually, it’s a reworking of an old item, which makes it easier to prepare.

Which brings me to my lesson of the night.

Chef’s don’t just write recipes. Throw the item on the menu and make a million dollars.

There are tons of reasons something is on the menu or removed from the menu.

Chefs like a one pan pick up. It means the dish can be made in one pan. If the recipe calls for items from three different stations it will be offered in off season, not in busy season.

We just put potato salad back on the menu. Why? Because it means the guy working our grill no longer has to roast potatoes to order. Potato salad is scoop and go.

We also make sure that the dishes are spread evenly among the different stations. Sauté. Grill. Salad. Ovens. Fry. If too many popular items come from one station it buries the cook and things back up.

So we often pull things from the off season menu to help spread the wealth.

We also lose items based on cost. If the cost of avocados go up, we might remove a salad. If lobster goes up we might increase the price or change the item.

It’s all about streamlining the amount of work it takes to execute the dish to the standards you expect.

The chef changed a dish. But our regular sent it back. And called me over to complain.

And I listened. Said I’d pass along their thoughts.

Knowing.

The recipe was changed to make everyone’s life easier.

It won’t go back till October.

PS. Any time a restaurant can scoop and go they will. Rice, mashed potatoes, Cole slaw, potato salad, corn, etc.

The more you know.

It’s Victoria Day on Monday!

It’s National Patriots Day on Monday.

Both Canadian holidays.

My staff learned this tonight around 10:00.

Why you ask?

Because my staff rarely makes less than 20% on a check.

Rarely.

Last night a server made $500 on a $500 check.

That’s unusual but 24, 25, 26 percent tips are the norm. After tip out my staff easily still walks with 20%.

That was not the case tonight. From the start the servers were asking what was going on.

One server made 15% on a big party. Another was tipped $40 on $375. A server who prides herself on her average was making 17, 18 percent all night.

Then around 10:00 a server came and said. I know what’s going on. It’s a 3 day weekend in Canada.

Ahhhhhhh

That explains everything.

And before anyone says anything.

They know better.

They all know better.

All of them.

Yes, it’s not done that way in Canada.

But fun fact: Before I left for Europe I knew what the customs were. Fuck. Before I left for Oklahoma, I knew the customs.

They are just cheap.

That is all.

Summer is here. Tonight was the second most revenue we’ve done since last October. And those were a Saturday nights.

With summer comes the fun folks that started this blog.

Tonight a server comes to me with the following story.

Table 36 ordered a bottle of wine. She confirmed the order.

She brought the wine to the table and presented it to him. He said yes that’s the wine.

She opened the wine. He tasted it. Said it was great.

She poured the four glasses.

Ten minutes later or so he calls her over to let her know this was in fact not the wine he ordered. This wine is more expensive. He shouldn’t have to pay more than he expected to pay.

She handled it well.

She said she’d take all the glasses away. And exchange the bottle. He wanted to keep it because it was good. She explained if he kept the wine he’d have to pay for it.

And keep it they did.

And pay for it they did.

My notes from tonight are on the chef’s table at work.

So I’m wracking my brain to remember what was on the list. So far no luck.

This post is a note from yesterday.

I work in a very affluent community.

The word very should be in the largest font possible, bold, and italicized.

We have rich people who live and visit here.

But we have insanely wealthy folks as well. Like CEO’s of Fortune 500 companies. People who have yachts custom built. People who buy houses for millions of dollars only to tear them down and build even fancier houses.

Stupid wealth.

What’s really interesting is the number of rich people who think they are wealthy, and then you meet the super wealthy and go ohhhh, that’s cute.

The point to this is that as we progress into summer I start to get phone calls from personal assistants.

I got that first call yesterday.

It was like having an old friend call. I talked to her a 100 times last summer as I made reservations for her family, and negotiated the COVID situation. Inside. Outside. 2 people. 10 people.

By the end of the summer Kelly and I were old friends.

Yesterday she left a message and it started by saying hi it’s Kelly, I’m calling for the Smiths, Jeff I hope you are still there.

She knew it was me when I called her back.

We chatted for two minutes about the reservation she needed and 15 minutes about our winters, whether she’d get to visit this summer, how her family was, about new restaurants that are opening.

I’ve never met Kelly but seriously it was like chatting with an old friend.

We finished our call.

It was awesome.

Her family will be visiting us first in early July. I’m excited. They are so gracious and nice.

I’m especially going to enjoy them this summer because I just googled them and they are NOT conservative. They hosted a fundraiser for a democratic presidential candidate. And I found a statement on line from them about the previous president.

I love them even more.

I’m starting to look forward to the summer.

Three weeks from today is the anniversary of my Interview for my current job.

I interviewed at 1:00.

I came back that night for dinner.

Adam and I were waited on by a seasoned server named Jen.

Jen is one of the good ones. A professional server. A lifer. She is good at what she does. Her biggest fault is that she knows she’s good at her job.

I don’t criticize this as I knew I was good when I waited tables as well.

She waited on Adam and I, impressed us, I took the job, and the rest is history.

The thing about Jen, who’ll read this tomorrow, is that she has a very distinguished look.

She has striking Lucille Ball red hair. Sprayed within and inch of its life. Red. Red. Red.

She has an amazing personality. And for, her service, and hospitality are her life. She lives to do her job well.

Fast forward to today.

A man calls.

He says when they were here last year they had an amazing server. And when they come back next week they’d like her again.

I k ow of course who they are talking about.

But I ask.

He tells me she is. Tall. And blond.

Huh?

Maybe I’m wrong.

I have no tall blondes since last summer except someone who is not Jen.

I have him describe her.

He insists. Tall. Blond.

I ask again.

Tall. Blond.

I ask them if he knows her name.

He tells me he thinks it’s Jen.

Seriously. Her hair is red. Seriously red.

I put the note in his reservation. But I think to myself if he thinks she is blond he deserves a table by the dumpster.

Every day I get to work at 1:00.

This is the sequence of events.

I walk in.

I put my lunch in the fridge.

I put milk in the espresso machine.

I put me phone and red cup in the chefs table.

I adjust heat and air conditioning.

I go to my office.

I hit okay and listen to the messages.

Today there were 12.

I write down the messages. I am very good at it now. Lots of short hand that I now know.

I them take the iPad, the cordless phone, my notebook, my laptop all to the chefs table.

I make my double cappuccino.

And I start returning calls.

A year ago 12 calls would have taken an hour.

Today it was about ten minutes. Some people answer I process their requests. I leave messages for the rest.

Very. Very. Generic messages.

I learned a year ago if you leave specifics they think they have a reservation. And I won’t process the reservation unless o speak to you.

My standard message is:

Hi this is Jeff from __. You can reach us back at 555-555-5555.

This is the schedule of events today.

Only one thing differed.

I call a number today. Voicemail picks up.

The message that followed was 45 minutes long.

Seriously? The person I called had a voicemail that listed 17,453 different phone calls depending on who was calling.

Full disclosure. It was a business cell phone. But seriously, I waited forever to leave the message above.

It was really funny because a sales person had come in and he’s sitting there watching me listen to a 45 minute phone message.

Eventually I leave the message.

Not long after the person calls back. And I make her reservation.

Fast forward a few hours.

I get a text messages apologizing for the long message.

I thought so.

I recognized the name on the call. But they didn’t say anything when they left the message nor when they called back.

She worked for me years ago. I consider her a friend.

She texts and apologized that I had to listen to her 45 minute voicemail.

I texted back and teased her and told her I was going to write about her.

So here is a post about my friend Kim who has the longest voicemail in the history of voicemails. Next time, tell me who you are.

Also. Can’t wait to see you.

In 2010, I pulled an old filling out of a tooth eating a tootsie roll. I was in Kentucky visiting my mom. I cut my trip short to go back to NYC to see my dentist.

He did a root canal. And set me up to replace the filling.

Except.

When he started working on me the pain was insane.

The root canal didn’t work.

I ended up having to have the remnants cut out by a oral surgeon. And was fitted for an implant.

Six months later. A new fake tooth.

No big deal.

Except that I learned very quickly that food would get caught between the implant and the real tooth. And soon I had to carry dental floss with me every where.

First so it didn’t drive me crazy.

But who’s so food didn’t get between the teeth and smell bad.

My current dentist replaced the filling in the other tooth and essentially fixed the problem. But I still carry dental floss. Just in case.

Tonight a woman comes through the lobby on the way to the restroom and is happy we have toothpicks.

She makes a comment about food in her teeth and I ask if she wants some floss.

You’d think I’d just asked her if she wanted a free car.

She was so happy.

I gave her the floss.

She went into the restroom.

She came out a different woman.

This is not even close to the first time this has happened.