Last week I wrote about seating out of order.

Tonight is about making people wait.

Over the weekend, we had a couple come in at 5:15 for a 5:45 reservation at the bar.

The host told them we’d get them seated closer to 5:45, and that they were welcome to wait on the couch.

So they sit.

And the husband stews.

He can see the empty seats. He says nothing to me but keeps muttering to his wife.

And keeps muttering to his wife.

He finally grunts something to me about why they have to wait and where the hell is the real bartender.

I say, we’ll if you’d like to know he had a death in the family. We are staggering are seating so you don’t complain about the service later and we’ll get you seated as soon as possible.

His wife grunts at him.

Around 5:35 we tell them we can seat them. He walks in first. The wife follows and says sometimes I wish someone would punch him in the face.

I laugh.

She laughs.

They are very nice on their way out.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Last week I took a reservation tonight for 5:45. They wanted 6:00 but I said no. I actually tried to get them earlier but the insisted they couldn’t make it.

Fast forward to tonight.

The hosts for the 6 top reservation arrived at 5:05.

40 minutes early.

They wanted to sit at the bar but there were no seats.

Then they realized they knew folks at the bar and they tried to order drinks through them.

No go. My team knows better.

They instead stand in the way talking to their friends at the bar.

Finally they move to the lobby where they give my host team a hard time about getting seated early.

The host finally seats them.

Then I discover what happened.

I give my team my speach about not rewarding bad behavior. I also let them know that this foreshadowing of things to come.

Lastly, I remind them that it’s my job to be the asshole.

Just reply.

I’ll get my manager for you!

Fun fact: Google is not a companies website.

Two things have happened in the last week.

Someone showed up at 8:50 for dinner recently. We turned them away. The insisted that our website said we are open till 9:00.

Our website has said we are open 5:00 till close since last October.

Tonight a gentleman came in and asked for a menu. He then asked to order take out. He got upset when he was told we don’t do take out.

He then asked to speak to the manager. Me.

I assured him in fact that we do not do take out.

He insisted our website said we did. Then showed me the google page on his phone.

I assured him that wasn’t our website. Which only made him more upset.

Yes I know we can update the information. But fir some reason it’s proven more difficult than it should be.

Meanwhile.

No.

Sometimes I forget to write down things that happen at work.

Then your friend Julie Myers writes that an Aperol Spritz would be great and that reminds you of something at work tonight.

Around 7:45 a server approached me needing a void.

I ask the all important question…

What did you fuck up this time?

He says a woman ordered an Aperol Spritz no Prosecco. Sub extra club soda.

He delivered the. Aperol Spritz.

She was upset because it contained alcohol.

Because she didn’t know Aperol had alcohol.

Even though it’s on our drink list.

Ugh.

Another woman sent back her Aperol Spritz because it was too sweet.

There is no sweetener in an Aperol Spritz.

It should be bitter.

Not sweet.

But what do I know?

Read my last post first. .

I realized it wasn’t actually a first.

We’ll sort of.

First according to the food runner, she was an elderly woman who didn’t make it to the bathroom.

So no.

She did not pop a squat.

Second.

Picture this.

Georgetown. 1985.

I’m a college student working at the local video store.

It’s a busy Saturday night. The store is packed.

I’m writing up an order.

It’s 1985. What’s a computer?

I look up and notice a small child playing with the stereo. It was for sale for $999.00. Next to the stack of VCR’s both Beta and VHS that we sold and rented.

I go back to waiting on people.

I look up again to see the same small child, around 3, pull down his pants and poop on the floor.

I’m stunned.

About this time the father notices, picks up the poop with his handkerchief, grabs the kid and leaves.

They didn’t come back for several weeks.

Every once in a while something happens at work and you go FUCK. That’s a first.

The first turn was quiet tonight. I attribute that to the gorgeous weather we’ve had all week.

Second turn was almost as busy as we could be. We also sat up till 8:45 and we close at 8:30 right now.

About 7:30 I come around the service bar side of the bar and I see water on the floor. Lots and lots of water. Like someone dumped a pitcher on the floor. But it’s not a puddle. The water starts at service bar goes around the chef’s table, past the kitchen to right in front of the doors leading to the kitchen.

I’m trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

While simultaneously getting people to clean it up.

I get two people on it and I walk up to the window and asked what happened. Surely someone saw.

A food runner tells us that a woman peed on the floor.

I say NO. Really what happened?

He doubles down and says, no that’s what happened.

I ask again, no seriously. What happened?

He insists an older lady peed on the floor.

Now I’m watching my employees clean up the floor without gloves and I’m saying to myself WTF.

As soon as it’s better, I send everyone to the kitchen to scrub their hands like that are about to do open heart surgery.

I still have no idea if it’s true, but the food runner was still swearing it was true as he left for the evening.

This was a first.

I write all my posts on the Facebook page each night.

Some nights I struggle with formatting, grammar, spelling, structure.

Some nights I write, hit publish and hope I do t sound like an idiot.

Once my posts are written, I cut and paste them to my blog.

The only difference is the I‘d Like to Speak to the Manager is the title of the blog so I delete that line from the post.

And the blog allows for a title post and so I have to be creative.

I strive most nights to make the title of the post theater related.

Tonight I got 2 for 2.

Make that 3 for 3.

The weather was stunning here today.

Goodbye winter.

Hello summer.

Our patio is not open yet. It’s going to open next Wednesday.

However.

It was definitely warm enough to sit outside.

We got a couple of calls today looking to sit outside.

I explained each time that the patio wasn’t open yet.

The last call of the afternoon looking to sit outside says, well can I order at the bar and just carry it outside.

Ugh. We are an upscale restaurant.

No. You can’t.

However I just say, we have tables but no chairs yet.

So no you can’t.

They hang up.

I put the phone call on my things to write about.

Someone at work today asked me if I still like my job.

Fun fact.

I do. Very much. I don’t have anxiety getting out of bed. Driving to work. I don’t worry that the owners are going to come in and fire me. I don’t worry that I’m never going to make bonus. That our costs are off. We have a great team. Yes we have our days, but it’s pretty awesome.

But.

One of the things I’ve struggled with since I started is that we are not open for lunch. Which means there is no one to make me lunch.

On my first day arrived at 1:00. It wasn’t until almost 10:00 that I was offered food. That all day with nothing to eat.

It’s been almost a year and it’s only been since January that I decided to bring my lunch. First it was salad. Lately it’s a sandwich, along with a half pint side that I buy at the grocery store. Cole slaw. Potato salad. Peanut noodles.

I make my lunch every morning before I go to work.

Yesterday, I couldn’t because neither Adam nor I made it to the grocery store. So I went to work empty handed.

I had planned to order lunch from the grocery up the store and have an employee stop and pick it up.

But my day exploded. When I looked up it was 3:50 and I’d never called my order in. By this time my staff is arriving.

I’m also starving by this point.

I ask Lorrie if she’d run get my sandwich if I ordered it. She’s gracious enough to do so and I call it in and give her my debit card.

Off she goes to get my roast beef sandwich and Cole slaw.

Of course she gets there they have no slaw. She texts asking if potato salad is okay but she’s back before I even see the text. She has potato salad in tow.

I’m forever grateful. I start to eat and a man walks thru the back door.

He’s the front door was locked. I’m looking for the manager.

I say I’m the manager.

He says…I’m here with your cole slaw.

I’m dumbfounded.

He explains it wasn’t made when I ordered it. He went on break and brought it to me.

I thank him profusely and tell him to come in for a beer sometime on me.

He leaves.

I eat.

All is good in the world.

PS. This is the same grocery store that got angry with me last fall when I’d order a sandwich and say, “you know it would be cheaper to make this at home and bring it to work.”

Last summer we took no reservation over 12 people.

It’s the most that could be seated in our semi private rooms. The tables held 12 people.

No reservations over 12.

Period.

In March we got new chairs.

The rooms only hold 10 now.

So no reservations over 10.

Unless.

You order off the Chef’s pre fixe menu.

He created the menu last fall. It’s what he serves his friends when they bring 10+ people to the restaurant.

It offers all the popular items from our regular menu.

So for the past three months I’ve been sending out this menu to larger parties. Most have said yes.

But.

Some people get upset.

They want to order off the menu. They want choice.

But.

The Supreme Court has spoken.

And 12 tops don’t get choice.

And I told a gentleman that today.

After he told me all the ways he was upset.

Finally he asked:

What if I just show up with 12 people?

And this is where we play:

What was Jeff’s response????

Go for it.