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.

I have a confession to make.

I love my boyfriend a lot.

But I’m a real live human being. A male human being. And sometimes I notice guys who are attractive.

Fun fact. As I’ve gotten older so have the guys I find attractive.

The reason I’m confessing this is that about a month ago I got busted checking a guy out at work.

I looked up from the IPad and a very handsome man was standing in front of me.

Whoops.

He was very sweet and asked if I was checking out his new shirt.

Yes. Yes. That’s exactly what I was doing.

In fact his shirt was very nice.

Anyway, since then he and his wife come in once a week. And he always teases me about different things.

Tonight he was in and teased that I’d called the police on him last time he was in.

He’s got a big smile, big personality. Very nice.

I usually tease back.

Tonight I teased that at some point they have to start calling for a reservation or I’ll not be able to seat them.

I got them a seated at the bar.

On their way out.

He shook my hand and thanked me for always being so gracious to he and his wife.

As he pulled his hand back I realized there was a bill in my hand.

I stuck it in my pocket.

I said goodbye. They left.

I didn’t even think about it again till I got home and emptied my pockets.

As I put my wallet, keys, and dental floss away I found a crisp 100 dollar bill in my pocket.

It was the first tip I’ve gotten since last summer. It was very generous. And very unnecessary.

I am very grateful for people like that at work. Who expect nothing. But appreciate what we do do.

It makes my job super awesome.

We have great guests.

Adam and I had dinner tonight before we saw a show.

Dinner was much faster than we expected so we walked to a bar down the street to have a cocktail.

Bartender was very sweet with biceps that wouldn’t quit. She was excited we were from the south.

It was a typical bar. An older couple having dinner behind us. A young foursome at the end having fun.

About 90 seconds before we left a woman walks behind the bar and right up to the bartender.

The bartender says, now how do you make the drink you want again. She was very patient.

The woman says Belvedere. Olive juice. Vermouth.

I was expecting some fancy esoteric cocktail. It’s a fucking dirty martini. Like. Exactly a dirty martini.

The bartender is very kind. Sends the lady on her way. Makes the drink.

She processes our payment and we are off to the show.

Who really thinks iit’s okay to go behind the bar to tell a bartender how to make a drink she’s made a 1,000 times before.

When you reserve a table through our reservation system there is an option to put in requests and notes.

Something’s we’ve had in the last few months.

A table with a view of the water. (We are 3 miles from any water).

A table by the window. (We have a row of windows. That look into the parking lot).

Two seats at the corner of the bar. (Our bar is a horseshoe. There is no corner).

A booth near the fireplace. (We don’t have a fireplace).

Can you bring mussels as soon as sit down? (We don’t have mussels).

A table in a quiet corner. (Every time we get this, they get put in the atrium area then they complain because they aren’t in the main dining room).

A two top will request a table in one of our private dining rooms. (They seat 8. We won’t put you in there if we have large parties).

Can we provide a birthday cake for desert? (We don’t have birthday cakes).

My favorite.

The request was in Spanish. Our host who is from Columbia translated for us.

(Hi. Can I get apple pancakes for my girlfriends birthday. Thank you for your consideration!

No comment needed.

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.