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?

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Anyone else have imposter syndrome?

What do you mean, you ask?

That you really aren’t able to do the things you’ve promised people you’d do.

When I was hired as a GM 10 years ago, I was worried for 5 years that someone would figure out I had no idea what I was doing.

It was the same when I was designing. There is no way I can design the show you have hired me to design…I don’t have the talent.

This holds true in other areas of my life.

And sometimes I push through.

And sometimes, I write a post about it, so you can help me push through.

At the beginning of January, a friend I knew from waiting tables in NYC reached out. He complimented my blog and then asked if I’d be interested in appearing on he and his wife’s podcast to talk about it.

I immediately said yes.

That was a month ago, and I still have not given them the information they need to actually make the recording happen.

Why you ask?

Because absolutely no one is interested in my opinions on the service industry. Trust me on this.

I will come across as an ass. Sound like an idiot. And embarrass myself.

I of course know this is not true. Just like 10 years ago, I knew that I could be a GM.

It’s just the voices in my head as I am falling asleep that tell me to not do it.

So.

I’m committing to getting the form filled out.

I’m committing to scheduling a time to do the podcast.

And I’m committed to letting you know when to listen to me sound like an intelligent, service industry professional.

That is all.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Adam and I don’t really eat out much when we are in town. We work all the time, and are paying for a house we love, and so when we are in Portland, off together, 90% of the time we are dining at home.  

That being said, we do travel a bit, and do eat out occasionally with friends.  

I very often take our experiences back to my restaurant to share with the team.  

Many times, they are great stories about how we were treated. For example when we were in NYC and were given dessert because we were the only non-business lunch happening, and it was clear we were enjoying ourselves.  

There are also stories that I take back to work with the statement of what NOT to do while waiting on tables.  

For example, two of our experiences in DC, last weekend.  

We dined at a kind of modern, French restaurant. Definitely not a bistro, which we love.  

The restaurant had 40 people stuffed into a space about the size of my office. Definitely, smaller than our master bedroom.  

The big problem is that I’m not a girl’s size 2. I’m chunky. I’m aware of my size. I’m aware of how much space I take up. And I was not allowed to forget it last Monday.  

Adam is my advocate in these situations, as I will often, make do. As soon as we walked in, we knew it was going to be a problem. Unfortunately, the tables were so quished together that there was not a better solution. He kept making suggestions, but alas all of them sucked.  

To get to the table we were taken to, I had to squeeze between a bar stool and a chair that were about six inches apart. Needless to say, I bumped into the chair of the man who would be sitting next to us as I tried to get to our table.

I get seated, and realize that if there is 6 inches between the chair and the barstool at the table next to us, there is going to be no room between my chair and the barstool. I tucked my chair as far under the table as I could, and now the table was sticking into my stomach about 5 inches. I couldn’t breathe.  

Then the service starts.  

The server had no use for us. Adam and I are not get to know your server people. We are polite. Friendly. And try to be gracious. We are there to be with each other, not to make new friends. This is also why we hardly ever sit at a bar for dinner.  

The server is abrupt, short and a little cranky. We order drinks. Adam asks to keep the wine list and is told no, the table is not big enough for the wine list and the food that is coming. It’s a 5 x 7 booklet. Hmmm. Okay.  

The meal progresses.  

Fun fact. Organic wines are yucky!!! This is all they serve. Give me all the chemicals. All of them.  

I watch as the chef, who is at the window, turns around to give someone doing the chef’s tasting menu, their first course. He’s got the personality for a wet noodle. There is nothing engaging or interesting about his interaction with the guests. He announces the food, like a food runner might. He tells them what it is, but never once makes it sound exciting. I’ve eaten many times at restaurants doing tasting menus, the chefs are always cordial, engaging and happy to have people eating their food. This was not the case.

Our food begins to arrive.  

However, I’m never able to relax because there is seriously, about three inches between my chair and the barstool behind me. And the staff has to pass behind me to get from the kitchen to the other side of the dining room. It was horrible.

I can’t tell you how happy I was when the couple sitting behind me at the bar finally left.  

The food was fine. Probably, even good, but the space was so ridiculous that I’d never, ever go back.  

Tune in on Tuesday night.  

We get to the restaurant, just as it opens. A Peruvian restaurant. We are excited to try it as Chef turned us on to the cuisine in Argentina.  

They open at 5:00, and it’s 4:59 when we are seated. We are the only guests in the restaurant. We hate eating this early, but a 7:00 curtain, means you eat at 5:00 or earlier, unless you want to wait till after the show.  

We are seated, order drinks. They arrive and we tell the server that we are ready to order.

Adam explains that we have to be on the sidewalk, waiting for our Uber at 6:15. We are probably going to order to much food, and that they should course it however works best for their timing and to get us out on time. We explain that they shouldn’t wait till we are finished with one course to get us the next.  

The restaurant is tapas/small plates and we always over order in these situations.  

ALWAYS.  

We order I think 7 small plates and an entrée to share.  

The server leaves. About 4.5 minutes later, the first plate arrives. And in quick succession, absolutely everything we have ordered lands on the table by minute 6. All the small plates AND the entrée. Oh. Except for the octopus, which never arrived at all.  

The table was covered in food. We had no idea what plates were what. The entrée was actively getting cold as we began to eat.  

We never saw the server again till around 5:50 when they came to see if we needed anything, and wanted dessert. 

We said no, asked for the check and by 5:55 we were standing on the sidewalk waiting for our Uber.  

So, friends.

What NOT to do.  

Do not create a space that works for you and not your guests.

Do not be unfriendly as a server.  

Do not misunderstand when someone says you do the coursing.  

Do not, not come back to the table.  

I could continue, but this feels like work.

PS. To end on a good note.

The restroom of restaurant 1 was also the size of my office. Seriously, they could have sat 25 more people in there.

The restroom of restaurant 2, was one of the most unique pretty spaces I’ve ever seen. I’ll post a photo.  

We would never go back to either restaurant. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s been 10 days since I last posted.  

First, Adam and I took a trip to Washington DC.  We had a great time, but I came home with the sniffles, but more importantly, I came home exhausted.  Every night last week, I came home, ate a snack, and climbed into bed.  

Today is really the first day that I’ve felt like a normal person again. 

2^nd, last Thursday at my manager’s meeting, Chef mentioned that two people had emailed him about my blog post titled “A 70 year-old’s favorite nursery rhyme.  Both people felt as though I was making fun of old people. 

Chef reminded me to be careful what I posted.  Because you never know who is reading.

I assured him that I was NOT making fun of anyone.  Just retelling a story that happened in the restaurant.  

He was not mad, but it kind of sucked the wind out of me, thus I didn’t write last week.  I also made my blog private.  So if you know anyone out there who reads, they can register and I’ll approve them.  

The funniest part of Chef being told about the post, was that it was the first time he’d ever looked at it, he said it good, but way too long for him to read, because he’s a busy man.  He sounds like Adam.  

I’m feeling better.  

My blog is private.  

Let’s get back to writing…

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Table 36.

They arrive at 5:00.

At 6:30 they have still not ordered dinner.

Finally, around 7:00 they place their order.

Two steaks.

Two sides of mashed potatoes.

At this point they tell their server that they will not accept luke warm potatoes.  The potatoes need be as hot as McDonald’s French fries, right out of the fryer.  

Seriously.  

The server asks me how to address this.  

I tell her I’ll speak to the expo, but if I have to, I’ll explain to the table, that while the potato should be warm, they are not meant to be the temperature of the sun.  

I didn’t hear back till about 8:00 when I’m informed that they are happy with their meal.

They were the 2^nd to last table to leave for the evening.  

They tipped 13% on their $450 check.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s Friday night. 

Actually, it is Saturday morning as the time is 12:13 as I start to write this.

I was so beat last night when I got home, that I truly came home, did the dishes, and went to bed.  

Tonight was a little better.

Yesterday was one of those days that made me say at 10:00 that I don’t know if I can do this again this summer.

Truly.

My day started when I picked up the phone and a man starts: He is angry. He is outraged.

He is upset that we take a credit card to hold a reservation.  

He asks if this is true.

I assure him that it is indeed true.  

He launches into how outrageous this is. How after traveling the world he’s never been asked to do this.  

At no time, does he ask our actual cancellation policy. At no time does he ask if there is are exceptions.

He is angry.

Finally, he says, we are from Florida what are you going to do about the storm this weekend. We’ve been told that it’s going to be the worst storm you’ve had all winter.  

I actually laughed. I know I shouldn’t have. But I laughed.

I reply, I’m not sure where you have heard this, but there is no snow predicted for the weekend, I assure you that it won’t be the worst storm we’ve had all winter.  

This pisses him off.  

He continues his outrage and finally hangs up.

About 3 minutes later I get a text from Chef.  

It’s a screenshot of this man’s Google review.  

It says, Though, this restaurant gets amazing reviews for their food, the issue is charging for cancellations is nuts in today’s climate. In fact, we are going to be in town for 4 days from Florida. We are unsure of our travel plans. Given the severe weather coming in the next 48 hours we are uncomfortable electing to take the chance. I called the restaurant and the host said, I don’t understand the issue. You’ve seen the weather, this is no snow coming.  

With his flip attitude, I would not eat there even if they did not have such a stupid policy.  

Think twice before you spend any money at this establishment.  

I have to admit I was probably flipper than I meant to be.  

But it’s New England.  

You’ve chosen to come to here in the throes of winter. It is no surprise that it is cold here. It is no surprise that it snows here. It’s about 25 hours till the time of your reservation. I’m not sure what my answer was supposed to be. Make the reservation. Let me hold the table. And if you decide at 5:00 tomorrow that it is too cold, I’ll cancel the reservation, after I’ve told repeated people that we are full.  

Meanwhile.  

About 12 minutes after the review was posted on line, I got a letter to our info@email address.

It is this man’s wife. She’s emailed to let me know how appalled she is with the entire experience.  

She’s traveled the world and never given a credit card.  

It is not hospitable to demand this of your guest in today’s market.  

I was rude to her husband by pointing out that it was not going to be a severe storm.  

I didn’t give them any other options, like suggesting that they just walk in and get a table as the website says we can accommodate.  

And my favorite part of the email: I’ve looked at your reviews and several have complained about the maître d. I would assume that is who spoke to my husband, based on his rudeness.  

She continues her complaints about me.  

She is right. I should have been more patient. But at no time does she mention that from the time I said hello, I was put on the defensive. Her husband came in hot and I responded as such.

I took the night and then responded to her today.  

I explained why we have a cancellation policy. In one weekend when 8 tables no show, you change your policy. We are too small of a restaurant to not have to do so. I also let her know that many restaurants in the area have this same policy.

I also explained that we hardly ever charge anyone, and that as long as you call, we will cancel your reservation without an issue.  

I also explained that they weren’t offered a chance to walk in as we don’t save room for walking ins. (I didn’t let her know that it absolutely does not say that you can walk in online).

I also explained that we live in New England. That unless we get more than a foot of snow, we hardly ever close the restaurant. We live here and are used to harsh winters.  

My favorite part of my email:

As for the maître d, he is an amazing part of our team. The reviews you saw were solely based on his inability to accommodate a guest’s request. Unfortunately, even though we hate when when it happens, sometimes the answer just cannot be yes. When he disappoints a guest they tend to take their anger online, regardless of why it happened.  

She responded during service tonight, that while she appreciated the response, she is still concerned about our policy and that looking at your reviews however it does seem that 99% of the negative reviews are about service and the way people are treated. So just a thought, it might be something that management should take a look at.  

She will get the last word.  

But over 200 five-star reviews to 15 one-star reviews. I don’t think her opinion merits a lot of thought. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I hired a new manager!!!

Life changing to say the least.

For 1.5 years I’ve been a one-man band in the front of house.  Its manageable, but sometimes you need another adult in the room to say What the fucking fuck!!!

Someone you can bounce ideas off of.  

Someone you can ask about how to manage a situation.

Someone else to be the bad guy.

Someone else to be there so you can have a random Sunday night off.

Peter started two weeks ago. 

Today was his first day of week three.  

We are still getting to know each other.  There are complaints I could make, but first and foremost he wants to do a good job.  Asks great questions.  And takes direction. 

He’s teachable.  

With those characteristics, within a short time, he’ll be great.  He kind of reminds of my friend Laura, my friend Charity and my friend LaTara. 

On his first day, we sat in the dining room at a table away from all the action and chatted about my view of hospitality.  

In 2013, I put together a presentation about hospitality.  It was about 35 minutes long.  And it’s one of the best presentations I’ve ever given.

Sometimes when I start to speak, I know I’m going to hit a grand slam.  (Look at me making a sports reference).  

Sometimes when I start to speak, I feel like I’m lost in a vortex.

On May 8, 2013, I started the training day with my speech about hospitality.  

And I killed it.  About 8 minutes into my presentation, I realized one of the owners was hanging in the back listening.  

I truly killed it.

He approached me afterwards and asked if I’d be interested in putting together training for the whole company.  This was one of 45,698 things I was asked to be part of that turned out to be lip service. 

But alas.

Since, I’ve started my new job, I’ve tried to do a scaled down version of this speech.  It’s never been as good.

So, I gave this speech to Peter, my new manager!!!

And it sparked a great conversation about how I approach hospitality.  

I treat people as though they’ve entered my home for a dinner party.  I shake a lot of hands.  I give a lot of hugs.  They are guests in my home.  

And about 6 minutes in I say, I don’t think the customer is ALWAYS right, but I do think they need to be heard.

I continue that I think corporate restaurants have ruined it for the rest of us, because guests walk in with the idea, that we are to cater to their every whim, must never say no, and must use the comp button if they dislike anything.

During this part of the conversation, I give examples, where I tried to do the right thing, but the guest was having no part of it and that ultimately ended with them yelling and screaming obscenities at me.  

I shared stories that all of you have heard.

And always, and I do mean always, the person I’m speaking to thinks that I’m stretching the truth.  That I’m exaggerating.  That I’m making the narrative meet my needs.

They don’t always say this, but they do come around the first time it happens to them.

Every time.  And I do mean every time a server, helps me at the door I get yelled at.  Ask Jen.  Ask Sam.  They turn to me and say,  oh my god, you aren’t lying.  

Speaking of the first time it happens to them.

For the first time since Peter started, I left early on Sunday night.  I got all the reservations in at 6:30 said my goodbyes and headed to Adam’s staff party.    I actually left at 6:50 because of the non-alcoholic wine people.  

I leave knowing Peter will be fine.  We have just a few more reservations, what could possibly go wrong. 

He seats the last reservation of the night.  

They have made a reservation for the dining room but want the chef’s table.

He accommodates their request.

They order, and their food is delivered.

Seat four has ordered a filet.  It’s placed in front of him and without even cutting it, he sends it back saying its undercooked.  

How he knows this without cutting it or even touching it is beyond me.  

The steak is returned to the kitchen to bring it up a bit.  

Unfortunately, chef was in the prep kitchen, making empanadas for the dinner Adam and I were going to enjoy tonight.  Special empanadas just for us.  

Meanwhile, Chef’s right-hand man, forgot the steak and over cooked it.  

Fuck.

Peter goes to the table, apologizes and explains we’ll have a new steak out ASAP.  

A few minutes later, a new filet is brought to the table, the man cuts it, it is a perfect medium rare. 

The man then asks if he can get a new bowl of mashed potatoes because his are ice cold.  

Peter, didn’t hear him completely and said, were the potatoes cold when they came out?  He was trying to determine whether the potatoes were cold when they arrived or had gotten cold while they waited.  

At this point, I only have the server and Peter’s version of what happened.  But they both had the same story.

Seems the man was appalled at the question.  His wife was appalled at the question.  Their friends were appalled at the question.  

They began to berate Peter saying they’d never been treated so rudely in their life.  

Soon after, the man says that after being treated like this, he’s no longer hungry, shoves his plate aways and says he’s done.  

Peter does everything in his power to fix the problem but they are having no part of it.  

The steak is comped.  Dessert is offered.  There is no appeasing the table.

It gets better.

Peter was at the door when they left.

One by one each member of the party took turns berating, ridiculing and treating him horribly.  

One of the 6 year old’s, I mean 70 year old’s, called him Peter, Peter Pumpkin eater and told him what an idiot he was .

Another told him he was bad at his job and should not be in hospitality.

It went on from there.

All because of cold mashed potatoes.

Oh, and let’s not forget. 

They are locals.  

They dine here all the time.

They own a house on the water.

They never been treated so rudely in their life.

Peter’s behavior was unconscionable.

He was stunned.  

He was horrified.  

He spent the whole weekend thinking he’d done something wrong.  He felt that he’d said or done something to embarrass the restaurant or me, because I hired him.

Today, when I got to work, I stopped by the new restaurant and chef told me about the incident.  In true Chef fashion, his only comment was that the guest should have gotten new mashed potatoes with the presentation of the new steak.  

He told me to get Peter’s take first.  

And this is the story he told.  

I assured him he’d done nothing wrong.

I assured him that this was the world we lived in at our restaurant.  

I followed that up with, I bet you thought I was exaggerating when I told you my stories of being beaten up. 

He confirmed that I was right.

I assured him that he’d seen nothing yet.

The only criticism of the whole event for me, was that I wish he’d called me Sunday night after things were closed up.  

I could have talked him off the ledge.  I could have assured him that he did nothing wrong.  And I could have made his weekend a little more enjoyable.  

Seriously.  

What 70+ year old turns to name calling over cold mashed potatoes.  

What 70+ year old says they are a regulars when the last time they were in our restaurant was last February.  

And seriously, what the fuck does it matter you have a house on the water.  Does having an ocean view excuse your behavior?  Does having an ocean view diminish your ability to be nice?

I know this is not true, because some of the nicest people I know, have houses on the water.  And they seem to be able to act like a human being when interacting with the public.

I told him to prepare himself for the assholes, but know that the good people out weight the bad 10,000 to 1.  

PS.  I really don’t make these stories up.  They are all, very much true.  I don’t even embellish much because truthfully, I don’t need to. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

January 29, 2023.  

A thought from today.

Dear friends.

Dear employees.

Dear friends of friends.  

Dear people who come to my restaurant.

IT.  

IS.

NEVER.

OKAY.

TO.

TELL.

SOMEONE.

THEY.

NEED.

TO.

LOSE.

WEIGHT.  

I know you mean it with kindness. I know you think you are doing me a favor.  

But.  

It’s not like I don’t to look in the mirror when I brush my teeth and comb my hair in the morning.

It’s not like I didn’t buy pants at the big and tall store before I left for Argentina.

It’s not like I don’t step on the scale occasionally.

It’s not like I haven’t battled my weight since puberty.

It’s not like any of this is a fucking surprise. 

If you want to be nice, just say it’s great to see you. You look nice in your new pants. I like that shirt. Did you get a haircut.

Anything about my weight is off limits.

AND.

It is NEVER.

NEVER.

NEVER.  

NEVER.

Okay to ask a person if they have ALWAYS been fat.  

This hasn’t happened in a while, but it still amazes me how often it happens.

Those exact words.  

Have you always been fat or did you grow up thinner.

I don’t know dude. Have you always been rude or did you learn that skill as an adult.

Seriously, so many times.

One time by a guest who was staying in my apartment in NYC. Sitting on my sofa. While I tried, valiantly to focus on drafting a light plot.  

One time by a female friend of friends, who was chunky herself.  

Fun fact.

I have not always been fat.  

In fact, there was a time in my life that I was known as Hot Jeff.

No lie.  

But you want me to tell you a little secret.  

I’m so much happier where I am today than I was during that period.

In fact, my boyfriend at the time dumped me because I’d gained 25 pounds my first quarter of grad school.

No lie.  

Now I eat the food.

I eat the short ribs. And the mashed potatoes. And the homemade yeast rolls.  

And I don’t stress over it.

And sometimes I eat the salad. And the steamed vegetables. And the fresh fish.

Adam makes all of these things for me.

He makes them with love and if you’ve ever had the pleasure of eating his food, then you know he is a fucking awesome cook.  

But I don’t worry about it.  

I own it. I’m a middle aged, (approaching senior citizen) overweight gay man with a belly and grey hair.  

And I’m happy.

I no longer get up at 5:00 a.m. to go the gym.  

I no longer say no to dessert.

I no longer say no to the bourbon. Or the beer. Or the wine.

I bought a swim suit for Buenos Aires because for years I wouldn’t swim because I was fat.  

Fuck that. I swam almost every day.  

I also post photos of myself on line. For years I thought if I didn’t post the photo then I really wasn’t fat.

I deprived myself for long.

So.

No. I wasn’t always fat.  

Yes, I could probably afford to lose 100 pounds.  

Yes, I wish I could wear a size 32 pants again.

Yes, I wish I could wear a medium shirt again.  

But I would never want to go back to being that person.

I’m authentic now. So much more so than I ever was 25 years ago. 

What you see is really, really what you get. I don’t put on airs much any more.  

I’m sincere.

And honest.

I live my life proudly.

I did’t realize I was miserable, until I discovered real happiness.

So.

Thank you for your concern.

But I’m good.  

Trust me on this. 

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Tonight around 5:30 a server comes up to let me know that table 33 is upset that we don’t list our non-alcoholic drinks on the menu.  

She explained that we have Coke products, coffee,  make an array of mocktails, and we have 1 non-alcoholic beer.  

This does not make them happy.  

They launch in to a speech about how it’s unfair that we don’t offer non-alcoholic wine.  

So many other restaurants in town offer it and we should as well.

OH.  NO.

This couple has been in three times before.  And every time they are there, they aggressively tell me how unfair it is that we don’t offer non-alcoholic wine.  

I suppose it would be nice if we did.  

Like it would be nice if we served gluten-free bread.   And impossible burgers.  And chicken parm.  And frozen strawberry daiquiris.  And American coffee.  And bearnaise sauce.  And baked potatoes.  And blackened salmon.  And deluxe cheeseburgers.  And chicken fingers.  And pasta with butter.  And our flourless chocolate cake warmed.  And ½ glasses of wine.  And Mich Ultra.  And clam chowder.  And a salad entrée.  And protein on a house salad.  And a grilled cheese.  And pulled pork.  And a Argentine dip.  And rotisserie chicken.  And only charged 29.99 for a ribeye.  And buttered filet.  And had A-1 on our tables.  And had a create your own salad, based on an ingredients list. 

I could type for the next 24 hours about the items people think should be on our menu.  

I just did a quick look and there are currently around 35 commercial real estate sites available that were formerly restaurants of some sort just in Portland.  

Do you know what that means? 

You could open up a restaurant that serves non-alcoholic wine.  And gluten free bread.  And impossible burgers.  And frozen strawberry daiquiris.  And American coffee.  And bearnaise sauce.  And baked potatoes.  And blackened salmon.  And deluxe cheeseburgers.  And chicken fingers.  And pasta with butter.  And warm flourless chocolate cake.    And ½ glasses of wine.  And Mich Ultra.  And clam chowder.  And a salad entrée.  And protein on a house salad.  And a grilled cheese.  And pulled pork.  And a beef dip sandwich.  And a rotisserie chicken.  And you can set the prices to be whatever you want them to be.  And have buttered filet.  And an assortment of condiments.  And a salad bar.  And even fucking Sunday brunch. 

You seriously could do whatever the fuck you wanted.  

But don’t go to a place of business and tell them what they should and shouldn’t have.  Even if you think you are being helpful.  

I get that you don’t drink.

But I’ve been in the restaurant business in Maine for 10 years and in that time only 2 people have asked for non-alcoholic wine.  The two of you.

And.

We don’t need a wider selection of non-alcoholic beer either.  

Why you ask?

Because we actually only serve the beer to appease like 20 people.

In the summer when we serve close to 400 people, we’ll often do about 300 dollars in beer sales.  Wine and cocktails knock it out of the water. 

We are not a beer restaurant.  We sell almost as much soda and coffee as we do beer.

So please don’t trap me at the host stand and spend 30 minutes forcing your opinion on me.  And it really was 30 minutes.  I was supposed to me in my car at 6:30 to join Adam at his work holiday party.  I got in my car at 6:55.  

Because.  

You were unrelenting. 

PS.  You could bring your own.  We offer a corkage fee.  We’ll be happing to open the bottle and pour it for you.  Especially if it’s non-alcoholic.