I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

The host tells me tonight there is a woman looking for an 8 top reservation for tomorrow night and isn’t taking no for an answer and she wants to speak to the manager.

I take the phone.

Hi it’s Jeff how can I help you.

She explains that she is a local. Her family is in from out of town she needs a reservation for 8 people.

For tomorrow.

I look. We have nothing.

She’s not having it. Can you pull two tables together?

I’m sorry we don’t do that.

Why not.

Can we get two four top reservations?

No you can’t.

Why not.

This goes on.

She asks for Monday.

Same answer.

I explain we only have one table for a party of 8.

She asks for Wednesday.

I explain we already have a 4:30 and a 8:00.

She gets mad. I thought you said you only have one table for 8.

Yes that’s true.

But you just said you have two reservations.

Yes. At 4:30 and 8:00.

So you do have two tables.

No. Two reservations. One table.

This makes her angrier.

She asks why we don’t have tables.

I explain that it’s august in a tourist town.

She explodes and says I’ve lived here for 50 years and I think then you should know better.

She tries a few more tricks then hangs up angry.

Ugh.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Wow.

I never knew being out of wine was such a disaster.

Tonight a man lost his mind because we were out of Cabernet.

Insisted we open a bottle pour to give him a glass.

The server said no.

He said it was inexcusable.

He was an ass when he left.

His girlfriend was sweetly apologetic for his behavior.

I’ll never understand this type of discordant relationship.

Discordant attractiveness I get.

Discordant financially I get.

Discordant educationally I get.

But if Adam was a dick to a server there would have never been a second date.

There is just no excuse.

No.

Excuse.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Tonight was near perfect.

Staff was on point.

Guests were all happy.

Except one I won’t waste my time with.

Everyday should be like this.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I was asked by a man tonight if I was the General Manager.

I said yes.

He says I’d like to speak to you at my table.

I approach the 4-top introduce myself and ask how I can help.

I’m immediately told they are locals. They live down the street.

I’ve never seen them before.

The man who approached me proceeds yo say that they are not impressed with their meals.

Another person says that we should be concerned that their locals because their food is inedible.

I ask exactly what the problem is.

I’m told the paella is burnt they had to scrape the rice off the bottom of the pan.

I try and explain this is how it is supposed to be served.

One of them throws their arms in the air and says we’ve eaten paella before. We know how it’s supposed to be cooked. Clearly you have no interest in what we have to say.

I sure them I am interested but I don’t understand how food we serve all night using the same method turns out four plates of inedible food.

Someone says don’t want anything for free. But as locals we think you should know.

I thank them for letting me know. That I’ll discuss it with the chef at the end of the night.

They don’t want me to do anything for them but as locals I should know how disappointed they are with the experience.

I apologize again that they are unhappy.

I’m told a few more times how unhappy they are as locals.

I excuse myself from the table.

30 or so minutes later they leave.

They all exit with out speaking to me.

A minute later a woman appears and says.

We live here. We are locals. And I just have tell you how disappointed we are with our experience tonight.

I say I’m sorry.

She continues.

As year round locals we e read the reviews. Your score on trip advisor is 3.6. That’s not good. And clearly they are right. The food is not good. And you should be ashamed serving it to year round locals. That live down the street.

I say to her again that I’m sorry. That we are new. I’ll take her comments to the chef after the shift.

She tells me she is local again.

I’m getting frustrated and finally say exactly what does where you live have to do with anything. We treat all our guests the same. Whether you live next door or in Alaska.

Well it will matter in the winter. And you’ll be missing the locals when they only eat here once. Like us. I assure you they won’t come back.

Ma’m I assure you the dining room is filled with people I know right now. And many of them have eaten here multiple times. And they have never complained. Also I’d understand if one persons meal was un satisfactory but for all of your meals to bed I don’t know to speak to that. We serve 100’s of halibuts. 100’s of scallops. We’ve never had complaints so I don’t know how we managed to prepare all of your meals poorly.

I want you to know that o know the owner and I will speak to him personally. We are locals and you care whether we come back. Especially if we live down the street.

A man and his wife have been in the lobby taking turns in the restroom. They exit. Then he pops his head back in and says just for the record our meals were great.

She reminds me again that the locals won’t dine here twice. Just as a woman opens the door and walks in. I recognize her from Sunday. I say hi Laura it’s so nice to see you again. I hope you’ve enjoyed your week so far.

She replies, Sunday night was so special I had to come back.

The local leaves.

And I get Laura, one person, seated at the best table in the restaurant.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I learned something this week.

Something I never knew before.

Seems that running out of Chardonnay by the glass is an affront to god.

Not quite as bad as being a serial killer but much worse than stealing from orphans.

Our wine order this week was a disaster.

Not anyone’s fault.

Just growing pains as we figure out systems.

We were out of Chardonnay by end of night Friday.

Liquor we can get everyday but Sunday. And if I’m desperate I can get it on Sunday.

Wine is a little trickier.

Needless to say we were out of Chardonnay, Pinot noir, and Beaujolais.

Most people were understanding.

Except for a guy who left a review on Sunday angry that we were out of Chardonnay on Sunday at 5:00 and they were early.

Then.

Tonight.

I’m at the door when a couple from the bar leaves.

I thank them for coming in and ask how their experience was.

My mistake.

I’m told that that are being forced to leave because we don’t have Chardonnay. His wife only drinks Chardonnay and they can’t stay.

I ask for clarification and he says it’s inexcusable that we don’t have Chardonnay by the glass.

I tell him we do but we are out of it.

He says then you don’t have it.

Inexcusable.

I say we normally have it.

But you don’t tonight. Inexcusable.

I try to explain we are new…

He interrupts to say it’s a failure in our part. And that I should be making it up to them. I’m not handling it very well. And good luck with this restaurant you are going to need it.

I’m done.

I say I’m not handling it well because you aren’t being nice about it. It just a glass of wine.

And we won’t be back.

I’m sure we’ll be just fine with out you.

He continues complaining while waiting for his car.

And so yes.

An affront to god.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Fun fact.

We are a restaurant with a view.

This translates to:

unless you are the king of England.

A friend of Chef’s.

A friend on mine!

Or.

Done with us weekly I can not and will not hold a window seat for you.

This weeks reviews yell at me about their lack of window seats.

They brought friends from Chicago.

Oh the horror.

Have they never seen water.

A boat.

A sunset.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Today started as every day starts.

I snoozed my alarm one too many time.

Got to work at 12:30.

But I was in a great mood.

It’s my Friday after all.

Afternoon is uneventful.

Then a server calls out.

It’s not COVID but she feels like shit.

I text to see if anyone can work.

Then chef calls and says there was a problem last night.

I have to make a tough decision.

It’s now 4:00.

We have two bartenders for the first time in weeks.

And.

Two servers.

First turn is east.

Second turn will be busy but not crazy.

I got TLF and execute my decision.

I go back to UM and the shift starts.

All is well until 7:15.

A food runner alerts me that something is up with a server.

I ask him if he’s okay.

He tells me he doesn’t know.

We start seating the 7:30.

This will be the busiest part of the night.

We get a couple of tables sat.

We double seat said server.

He is struggling.

We seat a 4 top at table 32.

They want to move to a table facing the water in the same servers section.

I have the host tell them we can move them but they’ll have to wait about ten minutes.

This makes them cranky.

30 seconds later they have sat themselves at the bar.

It’s a 16 seat bar.

14 seats are open.

They are sitting at the only seats that are dirty.

I approach and explain they can’t sit there.

No you can’t get a drink while you wait.

They are really grumpy now. It’s 7:40. They are seated.

The serving is losing it.

I tell him to get his orders in.

He’s struggling even to do that.

He is ill.

I transfer all his checks to the bar.

Have him do his cash out.

He leaves.

I have 1 server left.

A bartender who is training behind the bar.

Another bartender who is waiting tables.

I’ve sat 7 tables. For two people.

And the server had 4 active tables when he left.

I do what I do.

I went in to boss mode.

I started directing traffic.

Except.

The two people I had on the floor were stressing now.

Fun fact.

Don’t stress it makes it worse.

Fun fact: There is a differing train of thought on managers helping.

I’ve worked with managers who are hands on. Bussing tables. Running drinks. Opening wine.

I come from the school of thought that says if you are doing those things you aren’t staffed appropriately and you can’t see the big picture because YOU are focusing on the little stuff.

Why am I bussing a table when a food runner can do it.

Why am I opening wine if a server is standing in the wait station twiddling their thumbs.

So I tend to be an air traffic controller.

I see what needs to happen and direct someone to it.

But.

I have no one tonight.

So I reached way back to basics and waited tables.

I greet table 33.

Complimentary sparkling or flat water?

I’m back in 60 seconds.

I hear manager Jeff saying special while you water.

Tonight’s fish is. Oyster selection room is. We have a shrimp cocktail appetizer for 24 dollars. And for dessert we have a chocolate soufflé tgat takes a few minutes so if you want it let me know early.

What can I get you to drink.

They order. Fuck. A bottle of wine.

I stop at table 32.

Repeat the spiel.

Then I make my rounds.

Check in table 25.

They need drinks. And a cream spinach.

Check on 55.

They are friends celebrating their 58 wedding anniversary.

They are perfect.

Check on table 54.

Their appetizers arrive while I chatting with them.

Check on 42.

They are also good.

At every table I explain the problem.

Server left sick.

I’ll be taking over.

I get to the bar and pick up drinks.

Back in the day my drinks always got made first because I tipped the most.

Turns out when you are the manager the same happens.

I get the wine to table 33.

Thankful it’s a twist off.

But they got proper service.

I tell them I’m waiting tables for for the first time in 15 years.

I say the same about the wine.

They ask what my role is.

I say I was the GM but now I’m a server and that I’m got a pay raise about 30 minutes ago.

I go over the menu.

Finally orders are in.

I realize tables are finishing apps.

I go to the kitchen I direct food runners to clear apps. Wipe tables. Re silver the guests.

About this time the host lets me know that table 43 left.

They were the angry table that were angry and moved to the servers section.

They’d been waited on. But drinks were taking a moment.

Finally.

Orders are in.

Entrees are fired.

I touch every table in the restaurant wanting to make sure tonight was not ordinary.

I get to table 23. Ready to deliver my spiel.

They are having none of it.

They explain that service does not match the price point.

I say your right.

A server called out. Sick. We didn’t want her working I’ll. Another server has left sick.

We are doing the best we can.

They continue.

We were in downstairs last week and it was so much better.

I respond, if you’d come here last week it would have been better.

I don’t apologize.

But I try to explain.

They are interested.

I find out later they were kissed because we don’t do bread service.

Tables are getting entrees.

I’m checking in.

I need ice for a table.

Lemon for another.

A man doesn’t like his paella.

I comp a soufflés for a table that waited a bit for drinks.

I check in with most everyone again.

Most tables are teasing me.

I’m asked if they have to tip since I’m on salary.

I joke and say only if the service is bad.

All but table 23 and 43 leave happy.

It’s 9:00.

I sit down.

The one thing I didn’t mention was my knee.

It was hurting.

But the adrenaline pushed me through it.

In the 90 minutes since the server left. I’ve been moving.

In and out of the kitchen directing food runners. To the bar. The the tables.

I was moving way faster than my team in the floor who are years younger.

I maintained my tables better.

I maintained their tables better.

Don’t tell Jeff the manager I didn’t use a tray all night.

Finally I sit.

My knee is throbbing.

People begin to leave.

Everyone is so nice.

So complimentary.

I thank them all for their patience.

By 9:30.

Everyone is gone.

We all breathe.

I had so much more fun than the rest of my staff.

They are going to pool tips tonight since everyone was helping.

I made at least 20% on all of my tables.

But I can’t keep tips.

I texted chef and told him about the night.

The chef at the new restaurant was there talking to him and had told him I still had the moves.

Truth be told.

I wasn’t panicked.

I was calm.

It was about 40% as busy when I used to wait tables.

And I had fun.

Does anyone want to hear about the who fish?

It’s Branzino. Head off. Boneless. Butterflied.

When I was asked how much I said, $4752. I’m working for tips tonight. Got to make the money.

But for you.

47 dollars.

They laughed.

They’ll be hack.

PS. Not proofing this.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

My knee is getting worse.

Almost by the hour.

I used to be able to to the end of the night, into my car, before it got.

In May I was told my arthritis was bone on bone.

Three months later I can hear it.

Even worse I can feel the grinding.

Rub your knuckles together. That’s what it sounds and feels like.

Except ass real pain to it.

A month ago I could easily get to 9:00 with no horrible pain.

Now it starts at 6:00 and becomes horrible around 7:30.

There is always pain.

But it starts at a 3 or 4.

I have a high tolerance.

But it’s a solid 8 or 9 some nights.

The worst .75 seconds of my night is when I get home and pull into the drive way and get out of my car.

I sit there.

I grip the steering wheel.

Put my left leg out of the car.

Take a deep breath.

And stand.

The pain is a 12 out of 10 for those brief few moments.

I take two steps and it lightens up.

24 hours till it happens again.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

A bunch of years ago I fired a bartender.

Great bartender.

But he was an asshole.

To everyone.

The guests.

His coworkers.

The managers.

Me.

One day he marched into the office and let me have it.

24 hours later I let him go.

He was shocked. And let me know all the ways I was wrong for doing so.

I’ve seen him a few times over the years.

On Wednesday he was in the new restaurant with clients.

We chatted.

On his way out we were talking.

Just before he left, he shook my hand and said sorry I was such a schmuck back then. I’d have fired me too. I deserved it. And I’m sorry.

We talked a bit more.

I told him there were never any hard feelings.

He was an a jerk and thus got treated like one.

Then I asked him if he wanted a job. Bartending?

He laughed and said.

Fuck no.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’m a horrible texter.

I fucking hate it.

I get a text.

I read a text.

I forget said text ever existed.

My staff calls me unresponsive.

I literally get distracted then 2 hours, 2 days, 2 weeks pass.

Then I’m called an asshole.

Meanwhile a friend texted about a job.

I took three days to respond.

A regular texted about a reservation. He complained to Chef about my lack of response.

A server texted they were going to be late.

Fuck Chef texted at midnight and I just saw it.

I owe our cleaning lady a text.

Sometimes I don’t even text my boyfriend back.

Emails are easy. You save them as unread. Filter by unread. File them. Delete them.

Ahhhhhhh.