We have lots and lots and lots of regulars.

Only 10 of them were in tonight. In fact I only recognized four names on the list tonight.

Two of them, are Saturday night regulars.

Older, nondescript couple who usually dine at 5:00, came in tonight with friends at 7:00.

Well.

Their reservation was at 7:00. Four of the 6 showed up at 6:10.

They were early to get a drink and get seated before their other friends because it was a surprise birthday celebration.

It would have been nice to know this.

It’s 6:10. The bar is full. The people who are currently seated at their table have just gotten entrees and are going nowhere fast.

The finally get seated in the lobby, where one of the men is simply not taking no for an answer about the bar.

Finally, around 6:40, their future server catches her breath and gets them a drink order.

All is well.

Except.

We are fast approaching 7:00. Their table still hasn’t turned and we have been told they are very disappointed that this surprise isn’t going to be a surprise. VERY DISAPPOINTED!!!

I really have no idea what to do. I’m not going to rush a table that is perfectly on time. I had no idea about the surprise. And there are a million ways this could have been planned better

Tick. Tick. Tick.

They finally move from the lobby to the couch just inside from the lobby. I close the lobby curtains so if their friend comes in he won’t see them.

It’s approaching 7:00. Now the lobby is filling up with people who need to be seated. Which is being slowed down by the breath down my neck about their table getting up.

The wife of the birthday surprise couple comes in. Ugh. I explain that she needs to push her husband into the corner and not let him move when he comes in from parking the car.

It’s 7:01.

I look up and their table is leaving.

I grab a food runner and tell I need the table cleaned and set in 6 seconds.

I grab the bartender and get her to get the Prosecco the table wants open on the table, I grab the host and have her help facilitate the final touches.

Meanwhile the original 4 are standing outside the room waiting for all to be finished.

They sit. One of the men asks if he should request the Prosecco from the server, I move aside and the bartender sets the glasses and bottle on the table. He’s impressed. As she moves away the server picks up the bottle and begins to open it. As she starts to pour another server arrives with an ice bucket. I whisper to their server, come to the door when it’s poured.

She arrives at the host stand about two minutes later, I ask the surprise wife the name on her reservation, because it’s not the real name, she tells me, I say, ahh, we just finished setting your table.

Jen can you take this couple to table 37. She gets there. They open the door. The surprise is a real surprise.

All is well.

Except that, I’m in the weeds. Jen is in the weeds. Everyone is is the weeds because of one table.

I did feel like I was the maitre d doing the Waiters’ Gallup in Hello Dolly as everything came together perfectly.

They left very happy.

When you book a reservation for my restaurant through our reservation system you get an email survey about 20 minutes after we mark your table done.

We get a lot of feedback. 95% of our responses are positive. Actually it’s better than that most of the time. And the negative feedback has been used to improve our service, our product, our space.

Some of our responses are just hard to understand. This week we got a survey score of 45%. But not one written comment about what was so horrible about the experience. Just that she hated everything. This doesn’t happen a lot.

My favorite recent comment was:

We will return at some point, but it will only be for special occasions. Lower priced off season specials might entice us to return more frequently.

I understand that we are not an inexpensive restaurant. But our prices are not arbitrary.

Anyone cost out the price of beef lately? Anyone cost out the price of Prime beef? Anyone cost out the cost of cooking oil? Or avacadoes? Or labor? Or candles? Or liquor? Or beer. Or wine? How about kiln dried wood?

We appreciate that you’d like to come more often. We’d like you to come more often. But I’d also like to drive a new car. I don’t complain to Toyota about the cost of Tacomas. I also don’t leave Yelp reviews at 7-11 about the cost of gas.

We as a team spend a lot of time doing analysis of what we should charge, what we can charge, and what we will charge. And those numbers aren’t even close to the same. There are restaurants in Boston charging double what we charge for a steak. There are restaurants by the mall that will charge you 22 dollars for a 6oz filet. That is not nearly the same quality as what we serve. That’s not wood fired.

And let’s not forget, to many the restaurant by the mall is a special event restaurant and not a once a week restaurant.

We know that we are not an everyday restaurant for some people. Not only because of price. You have to drive to us. We are red meat centric. We don’t have water views. We don’t serve lobster.

But to A LOT of people we are. We have many people that have standing reservations. We have many people that eat at our restaurant seven, eight, nine, ten days a month.

So don’t mark our scores lower because we have a higher end concept. Give us higher scores because it is well worth the money. At least we think so.

When I became a GM I only had about six seconds of management experience. From my hire date till my first day on the job till my first day with our team I told myself to fake it till you make it.

I’d been a server off and on for 35 years. I’d had great managers. I’d had shitty managers. The same had been true of team players in the theater world. I’d had great directors. And shitty directors.

I told myself to emulate the best in the good ones and steer clear of the attitudes of the crappy ones. I knew who I wanted to be as much as who I didn’t want to be.

When I started the management team had already been assembled. A dining room manager. A bar manager. And an additional manager for our fine dining area.

By the time we met for our first day as a team, April 15, 2013, (The same day as the Boston Marathon bombing) the bar manager had already been replaced.

We met as a team. Planned out the next four weeks. Four weeks till opening.

The next day the FOH team met in the space. We had interviews scheduled. We got thru the interviews and then met as a team.

At some point I said something that the bar manager didn’t agree with. He went from 0 to 60 in 2.5 seconds. He began to shout at me and wave his arms and blah, blah, blah. I stopped listening. He’d crossed about a dozen lines.

When my boss arrived an hour later we called the bar manager and let him know that it wasn’t going to work out. I let him do the firing as at that point I’d never fired anyone before.

The next day we repost the bar ad.

We begin interviews immediately. We have 3.5 weeks till opening day.

My boss interviews a couple of people. I do second interviews.

At one interview with his favorite candidate. She is great. She has all the right answers. In fact she makes it clear that she wants my job.

It’s all going great. Until the FedEx person comes in with a delivery. She interrupts our interview, but she is just doing her job. I’m patient with her. The interviewee is rude to her. I don’t remember the exact exchange but I tell myself I don’t like the person I’m interviewing.

I tell my boss about all of this. She has interviewed well but my GUT says it’s a bad idea. We hire her. And regret it immediately.

10 days after opening, I let her go. By then I’d already terminated a server as well. I’m a pro.

This is a long way of saying, ever since I trust my gut. 100% of the time. If my gut says no. I say no. Who knows if I’d have been better off with some other people, but I think most of the time it turns out well.

Meanwhile, we end up promoting a bartender to bar manager. He lasted three weeks. Finally we promoted the person who should have had the job from the beginning.

She was with us for two seasons before she moved to Boston for a new experience.

Trust. Your. Gut.

12 years ago tonight I caught a purse thief. Red handed. While waiting tables. It’s one of the more brave things I’ve ever done.

We were always told at work to keep an eye out for people with their purses, bags, back packs on the back of their chairs.

At least once a week someone would reach for their bag to pay their check and the bag would be gone. Along with their wallet, passports, ids, money, their life. Their trip was effectively ruined.

It’s a bad day when you watch parents cry because they are from Germany, England, Nebraska, Idaho and everything they need for their trip is in the bag that is now gone.

Every pre-meal started with a reminder to tell your guests to keep their bags in their laps, around the leg of their chair, in sight always.

On March 2, 2010, I was hustling in the cocktail section at work not unlike hundreds of other shifts since I’d worked there. It was turn and burn. Move, move, move. The servers in cocktails would have 22 seats at one time and if you hustled the money was GREAT! It was not for the faint of heart.

So I was moving (for those who know the restaurant it was the section closest to live) and I noticed a gentleman standing around not doing anything.

I asked him if he needed help.

He says he was waiting on someone.

Okay then.

He continues to linger.

I’m headed from service bar to my tables, when I see him swipe the purse.

The woman noticed nothing.

I put down my drinks, tell my coworker to get security, and I catch the guy right in front of service bar.

I put my finger in his chest and tell him to give me the purse.

He opens his floor length coat and shows he doesn’t have it. He pushes past me.

I notice at this point the purse is in the trash at service bar.

I grab the purse and run to the lobby.

Seriously. I Run.

Security has stopped him as I confirm that it’s him. And show them the purse.

They arrest the guy.

The police go in to return the purse to the lady it belonged to.

She still hadn’t noticed it was gone. She is so thankful to have it back. Gives everyone a hug.

I go back to hustling.

The end result was that eventually the DA contacted me at work. That’s fun when the NYC DA calls your employer and says they are trying to locate you.

Eventually I go to grand jury court and testify.

He was convicted as a previous offender.

Meanwhile back at the restaurant.

The young lady spend the next couple of hours eating and drinking.

She eventually pays. And leaves.

And tipped.

Nada. Zilch. Zero. Nothing. Total stiff.

$00.00

Hmmm.

I still can’t walk by a chair at work with a purse hanging off the back without wanting to tell people to move them. But then I remember I’m in a coastal New England town. Speeding and Zumba classes that are fronts for high end call girls is about as dangerous as it gets here.

Birthdays are the worst. The absolute fucking worst.

First.

Half of the world thinks you deserve something free on your birthday. Dessert. Dinner. An app.

Another half run around being all sneaky so you can deliver a dessert with a candle as if Burt didn’t know you were there celebrating his birthday. It’s just a coincidence that you invited him to dine with you on his birthday.

Others want a birthday song. Bennigan’s ruined it for us. Happy Happy Birthday. Ugh.

At the Hard Rock we did shout outs.

Screaming as loud as you could.

CAN I HAVE EVERYONE’S ATTENTION. THIS IS SALLY. TODAY IS HER BIRTHDAY. ON THE COUNT OF THREE WERE GOING TO WISH HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY. ONE. TWO. THEEE!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

Today a woman comes in and says she’s here for her reservation. She’s early.

She then explains it’s her friends birthday and wants to know if we do desserts?

What does that even mean?

No. We are an upscale restaurant but if you want dessert you have to drive they Dunkin Donuts.

Do you mean free desserts? No. We don’t give you free stuff for being born.

Order dessert. Tell your server. They’ll put a candle in your chocolate cake.

Oh.

And yes.

You may bring in your own dessert. Be it cake. Cupcakes. Cheesecake. Pie. Scones. Hershey bars. Ice cream.

But there will be a $5 plating charge. Not because we do anything. But to cover the coat of you NOT ordering dessert from us.

So have a birthday.

We all do.

But know, we won’t give you anything free. We won’t do a shout out, unless you give me $20, but we will give you a candle.

I never stop for food on my way home. Never.

Tonight however, I was craving Burger King. This is especially important because I’ve been eating super healthy since the start of the new year.

So I get in line.

There were about 8 cars ahead of me. This shouldn’t take long.

It’s also a situation where once you are in line, you are in line. You can’t escape.

So I pick up my phone, check email, look at Facebook.

We are not moving.

Finally a car goes through. Then another.

Then nothing. No movement at all.

20 minutes and I’ve moved two cars.

Finally we move again.

The car in front of me gets to the speaker. The person says, I’ll take your order in a few minutes we have around 50 Door Dash orders. The guy in the car says I am from Door Dash. He’s told to pull around.

I get to the speaker.

Hi. I’ll be with you in a moment.

I start to drive off but at this point it’s been 30 minutes. What’s a few more minutes?

Finally I give my order. I drive around.

There are no cars in the line.

I get to the window and the guy in the car behind me is giving a crazy complicated order. Special requests. Separate orders. The guy on register is trying to be calm but you can tell he’s frazzled.

He finishes the order and looks at me. He looks like he’s going to cry.

I ask how he’s doing.

He says at the moment they have 50+ door dash orders. A line of cars. And it’s only him and one other employee in the building.

I smile and tell him that I understand. Just to breathe and it won’t last forever. It will end eventually. It always ends.

He nods.

He says another employee should be there any minute now.

He hands me my drink. My food. I remind him to breathe.

I felt bad for him. I’ve been there. I wish I’d had a way to help.

I drive away. Eating my cold French fries.

We were busy tonight. The busiest we’ve been since last October. We were also down a host. So I had to spend more time at the door than usual.

At around 7:10 I’m at the host stand trying to get our reservations sat. The host is seating. I’m at the door.

A man walks up and asks if we have a sommelier.

The following is just my opinion:

The people who ask if we have a sommelier are not REAL wine people. If they were they’d look at our wine list, see that we only have a handful of wines over $100 and know that we don’t have a sommelier. They’d also know, that a restaurant our size, couldn’t afford a sommelier with our volume and prices.

Don’t get me wrong. We have a perfectly respectable wine list. But it’s meant to be approachable. It’s also meant to be affordable. We do have a few things on our list for the more adventurous or wealthy diner.

So I’m approached and asked if we have a sommelier. I explain we do not. And I ask if I can help.

He say’s, well what do you recommend?

Remember, I’m at the host stand. Trying to get people seated.

And I’ve just been asked what I recommend.

No questions about varietals. No mention of what they are eating. No mention of anything.

I recommend the Sutter Home White Zinfandel if your having the rib basket at Applebees. I’d recommend a sparkling rose if you’re sitting by the pool in August. I recommend a big bold Cabernet if you’re having a well done Wagyu tomahawk ribeye. I recommend a Sauvignon Blanc if your date stood you up. I recommend a bourbon neat if you’ve been at work 4 hours and you’re being asked crazy questions.

I ask him where he’s seated explaining that I’ll send someone to answer his questions.

He says, his servers already been there. Could I get someone to help him here.

Here’s standing in front of wine storage.

I say give me a second and I’ll see what I can do.

I now have a line at the door.

I go back to hosting. 10 minutes pass. He’s still there.

More hosting.

10 more minutes. He’s still there.

The truth is. My bartenders are buried. I’m buried. His server is his best hope but he’s not going back to his table.

I finally look up and he’s going outside.

I have no idea why.

A couple of minutes later he’s back.

Still waiting.

I ask the host to cover the door.

A round the corner to try and help him.

I apologize for the delay. Explain we are busy.

And he exhales and begins to ask questions.

The exhale has covered me in cigarette smoke. It’s in my eyes. My mouth. My nose. I can’t breathe. I can’t talk. I’m distracted.

He’s concerned that we don’t list vintages on the menu.

I explain we’ve had supply issues and we have to accept what’s available.

He asks about the reserve list. I explain they are on the menu.

He then asks about the not on the menu list?

I tell him I have no idea what he’s talking about.

He points to some masking tape on the wine cooler and says what’s what? The tape says off menu….

Seriously. We don’t have a secret menu. It’s marked so the servers can find what they need.

He asks about an Argentine wine I’ve never heard of.

I say as much.

THEN.

He asks if I know anything about wine.

It’s taken as the insult he meant it as.

I look at him and say just enough to be dangerous.

He’s annoyed.

I’m still tasting cigarettes.

And he’s now been away from his table for 30 minutes trying to impress someone.

He leaves.

I’m still tasting the lovely aromatic tastes of Marlboro Reds.

They ended up ordering a moderately priced wine.

That paired perfectly with Camel Lights.

On Thursday night, around 8:45 a car pulled into the parking lot. This is very late for us during the winter especially during the week.

A woman comes in and asks if we are still serving. I apologize and explain we are not. She then asks who might be serving at 9:00 on a Thursday, in February in a coastal New England town.

I list off a few places having no idea who is even still serving at all, let alone at 9:00. She asks a few other questions and I tell her to hold on a second. I pull up a restaurant on the iPad. I call them. Nope. They’ve closed for the night. I call another. And another.

I finally found a restaurant that was open till 10:00. I tell the woman the name, address, and how to get there.

She’s so grateful. As she leaves I tell her to make sure to come back and see us over the weekend.

At 8:00 tonight she walked in with her husband. They had seats at the bar. She is super excited to be back.

She’s also very grateful for us finding them food on Thursday. When they’d gotten to the restaurant they were well taken care of.

She and her husband couldn’t express enough how grateful they were that we’d gone out of our way to help them.

I assure them, that we love our jobs, and helping people is what we do.

They were sat at 8:00. They stayed till after 11:00. They were the last to leave. But they made friends with everyone. Their neighbors at the bar. David the bartender said they were some of the nicest people he’d ever waited on.

They also had a big dinner. They ordered a Wagyu tomahawk ribeye for dinner. The steak is $165. They got it well done. Approved by the chef. They loved it. And took some home to their daughter.

As they were leaving they asked about coming back in the summer with a large party to sit in one of our private rooms.

I gave them my card and told them to call me and I’d take care of them. I asked them their names again.

They told me. Their last name happens to be the same last name of a drug kingpin on a show I love. I made that comment and they laughed. I told them when they called to just tell me the were the drug lords from the show and I’d know exactly who they were.

The point of the story is that I love when amazingly wonderful people come in. People so nice that you’ll remember them 6 months from now. It makes all the ugly people disappear off the map.

So thank you.

Every day our numbers continue to tick up.

And every day our guests continue to amaze me.

Tonight of all the reservations we sat between 5:00 and 5:15 five of them were incomplete parties.

Table 25 didn’t order for30 minutes while waiting for their fifth guest who never showed.

B13 was 30 minutes late.

Table 23’s last guest 60 minutes after their initial seating.

Table 13’s guest was also 30 minutes late.

And B15 was an hour late joining her friend at the bar. The first guest was sat at 5:10. They were the last guests to leave at 9:25 tonight.

Somehow reservations have become a suggestion rather than a contract.

Hmmm.

PS. It’s impossible for me to know if we are going to be closed tomorrow as it has yet to start snowing. You’ll have to call back tomorrow.

Today was impressively warm. According to the thermometer on my car it was 68 degrees when I got to work at 1:00.

The wind was also insane again. I’m going to repeat that we are going to be blown away before we sink in to the ocean.

Warm weather is amazingly good for business. Mainers love to get out and about when it’s warm. Even though it was already getting cold by 5:00.

Do you know what else is great for business?

When most of town doesn’t have electricity.

Yes, the wind knocked power out for a lot of Kennebunk/Kennebunkport today. So around 5:00 the calls started asking if we had room for people who couldn’t cook.

Overall it was a great night. Lots of very nice folks.

Hopefully their power is on soon.