I’ve been a GM for almost ten years.

Trust me when I say that the worst thing that can happen during a shift is….

Worse than a fire, which has happened.

Worse than a gas leak, which has happened.

Worse than running out of French fries, which has happened.

The absolute worst thing that could happen is the POS crashing.

This happened tonight around 7:15.

On a holiday weekend.

On the busiest Friday night we’ve had since before Christmas.

Usually it’s an internet problem.

Tonight it was a system wide Toast issue.

Truth be said the POS operated in its offline mode exactly as is was supposed to.

But.

It threw everyone off.

And for thirty minutes things got tough.

I never panic in an emergency. I go to my calm place. That’s what happened tonight.

Until I didn’t.

I might have lost my cool for about 94 seconds.

I might have snapped at an employee.

For the past 7 or 8 years my rule has been if I snap at someone inappropriately I buy them a drink.

Three minutes after I snapped, I took 20 bucks out of my wallet and handed it to the employee.

She wouldn’t accept it. But I tried to uphold my commitment to always do the right thing.

The POS was down for about thirty minutes.

Then all was well.

There was no real fallout.

Except for the dude at the bar who was angry because it took a bit to process his credit card.

He yelled at my host and told her he was never coming back.

Hmmmm.

Is that a promise?

Or a threat.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch.

Except our last reservation was 20 minutes late.

Then was slow to order.

Ugh!!!

We are going into the Valentine’s Day weekend.

We get at least two or three calls a day asking if we’ll be open on Monday.

And at least two or three times a day I get scolded because we are not going to be open. They can’t believe our owner would choose the happiness of his staff over the ability to make a buck.

I truly believe our chef made the right decision.

Meanwhile, it’s a 2-top weekend. We have 150 2-tops reserved over the next three days.

Anyone care to guess how many filets we’ll sell over the next three days?

Seriously.

Take a guess. I’ll announce the winner on Monday.

We do have Wagyu filet in house this weekend so I’ll include that in the count.

That being said. It’s the weekend of love.

Let’s hope everyone eats and runs because these reservations are stacked.

Happy Valentines everyone!

Two things have happened in the last week that prompted this post.

On Saturday a friend who’d worked for me the first season we were open at David’s reached out via text for a reservation, last minute at my restaurant.

She and her husband had unexpectedly found themselves without kids for the night and wanted a date night.

I was happy to help. All we had were bar seats, which is what they preferred anyway.

She confessed later, that she had stressed over reaching out based on a post I made here that I don’t even remember. I assured her that I don’t mind at all.

Tonight an industry friend, that I’m friends with on Facebook, reached out to get a reservation for his friend. This was someone I really only know professionally.

And I was happy to help.

So all of you out there in the internet world who read this:

Reach out.

Ask for the favor.

For yourself.

For a friend.

I truly don’t mind.

Seriously.

Just remember:

That I always don’t see texts after we start service, until the end of service.

I can only help if the tables are available.

If I say sorry, we don’t have anything, don’t take it personally.

And I am truly sorry if any of you thpught I’d be offended if you asked, that was never my intention.

So please.

Ask, ask, ask.

We work in a seasonal, tourist town.

Not unlike thousands across the country just like us. People come from all over the world to visit our little town.

The guests at our restaurant are part local, part seasonal local, part tourist. And they love, love, love our restaurant.

All of our guests, no matter where they are from want to know about us. Us the restaurant. And us the staff.

They all ask lots of questions. About the fire? The meat? Where we are from? Where we live? How we ended up here?

I tell the same stories over and over. But to be honest, who doesn’t love talking about themselves.

Along the way you make friends. Some superficial, others close friends who have been to your home and that you’ve socialized with. Back in my younger days I even got a few dates out of the conversation.

The serving staff and bartenders have the same experience.

Part of my job IS to stand and talk. To be the host welcoming people to our home.

The staff however has a job to do.

Tonight table 25 began a conversation with Jen, a server. 7 to 8 minutes later she’s still talking. They won’t let her get away.

By the time she excuses herself she’s now in the weeds. All of other tables need something.

I was a victim of this when working at the Hard Rock. Everyone wanted to know what it’s like to work in NYC.

The guest never realizes that the server is actually do a job. It’s not malicious. (Watching Frazier, and they said malicious as I was typing it).

So a bit of professional advice. Almost all servers, not all, like to talk to their guests. But as the guest, realize that Jen can’t stand there for 20 minutes just shooting the shit. Let her have a break to say, gotta go.

Extend the conversation over the two hours you are there.

Meanwhile, I have a few signals I give if I want to be saved. And my staff knows just to interrupt if something comes up that needs immediate attention.

We were busy tonight. Very busy.

It was also a very long day.

I got to work at noon today.

Did two hours of prep for a server/bartender meeting.

Had a difficult meeting with an employee.

Missed lunch.

Had pre shift.

And opened the doors at 4:45.

I moved tonight. I definitely got my steps in.

At the end of service I went to the chef and asked to get dinner. I sat down around 9:15 to eat which I never do. We still had several tables in the building. I usually wait till we are mostly empty to sit down.

People were lingering tonight.

Chef also has friends at the bar and he was chatting with them.

Around 10:15 table G4 came into the bar. We all thought they were leaving. Then we realized they were carrying their cocktails. They planted themselves at the bar.

Around 10:30 chefs friends got another drink.

Table G4 asked for drinks.

The bartender explained that we were closed, they were chefs friends and the bar had already cashed out for the night.

They didn’t mind. They just continued to hang out at the bar.

At 11:00 the chef and his friends say their goodbyes and they all leave.

Now it’s just me.

And the four people from G4.

I’m reading Facebook. Pretending not to notice.

Finally they stand up.

But they don’t leave. They stay and talk.

They finally left around 11:30.

They were very nice. But oblivious.

I got in my car at 11:45.

I pulled into the garage at 12:30.

As you know we cook with fire.

This means steaks cook differently than on your grill, or in your oven, or even in a skillet.

This makes cooking some of our steaks tricky.

Especially filets.

They are a thick piece of meat. The minute you start to cook past medium rare the outside starts to get charred. We highly suggest medium rare. If not we suggest butterflying, as you cut the meat in half and cook the thinner pieces. You can get to well done at this point without making it a hockey puck.

Fun fact:

When your server tells you that the chef suggests anything, believe them. They aren’t just being stubborn they know what they are doing.

Tonight a couple dined with us.

They ordered the filet. Medium.

The server suggested butterflying but they insisted it not be.

20 minutes later the filet landed on the table.

They cut into it. Immediately called the server over, said it was a hockey puck, that it was way over cooked and they wanted a new one.

The server returned to the kitchen with the offending steak, and showed the chef.

The chef immediately became annoyed.

I walked up at this exact time.

He was annoyed because the steak was a perfect medium on the inside.

Perfect.

Warm brown outside, pink center cooked through. No blood.

Like we could have snapped a photo and used it in a cookbook it was so perfect.

He told the server to tell them it was perfect. He will cook a new one medium rare, and to order it medium rare next time, or allow us to butterfly the steak.

I told the server I’d deliver this message.

So when the new steak was ready I delivered it and explained that the chef recommended either butterflying or ordering medium rare next time so that they’d get the meal they really wanted.

They were very nice, and enjoyed their new steak.

They finish their meal.

Pay.

Then they call the server over to tell her how rude I’d been. They are in the industry and didn’t need a lecture on how to order a steak. It was their first time there and found the whole experience lacking.

On their way out I could tell they were unhappy, but didn’t say a word.

I was super aware of my tone when I delivered the steak. I wanted to make sure I kept it light hearted. It is a tough message, but we want you to enjoy yourself and your food.

It’s also the the reason I did it and not the server.

As a manager, it’s my job to deliver bad news. It’s my job to say no. The employee should never be beaten up because of something out of their control.

Unfortunately, they left upset.

I am not looking forward to their survey response.

Speaking of a survey I got one tonight from a guest who said they loved me.

Finally!

After a month of relatively quiet phones, they have started to ring again.

After two weeks off at Xmas I came back to two messages.

Last week after two days off only three.

This week I came back to 17.

The phone is ringing more during the day as well.

The nice thing is that even during service I can usually answer.

I pick up the phone today

Thank you for calling. How may I help you?

Yes, are you going to be open on Valentine’s Day?

Unfortunately, no. But we are open on Sunday.

How the hell are you not going to be open? It’s a holiday?

…….

…….

Because it’s our day off.

But it’s a holiday.

…….

…….

But is our day off.

But it’s a real holiday.

…….

Then she ended the call as I was about to say, we are open on Sunday and I was promised Super Bowls off when I was hired.

Alas I did not get to say that.

Super bowl Sunday is one of the slowest days of the year.

The day after the super bowl is absolutely the slowest day of the year.

Unfortunately, it’s the day before Valentines Day this year. We are already scheduled to be busy with another week+ to go.

Meanwhile Ms phone call can drive to Portsmouth for her holiday.

5:30 comes and goes tonight.

No table 11.

5:45 comes and goes.

Still no table 11.

Finally at 5:55 two women wal through the door.

It’s table 11.

I walk them to the bar where they have reserved.

They immediately ask for a table saying they only booked the bar as it was the only thing available.

Ugh.

I take them to a table.

One woman doesn’t even sit down. She follows me to the lobby where she has a 30 minute phone call.

When she returns to the table it’s 6:30, there table has been reserved for an hour and they haven’t even started.

Meanwhile table 24 were seated for 4+ hours. Caused the server to miss a table and then tipped less than 20%.

Ugh.

Since I’ve been a GM the restaurants that I’ve run have had to be evacuated twice.

In Kennebunkport, we started smelling gas and had to evacuate. Turned out the vents were covered with snow.

In Portland, the restaurant was actually on fire, the alarm was pulled. The restaurant was evacuated.

I was present in Kennebunkport. In Portland I was giving direction on the phone.

In both instances it was a you need to evacuate as quickly and orderly as possible. Don’t finish your drink. Don’t pay your bill. Just get out.

Both times people were angry. Both times people pushed back. Both times people ignored the warnings.

In Portland the building was literally on fire and guests continued to eat and insist they be served.

For me it reminds me of growing up in Kentucky in the 70’s. In 1977 one of the worst fires in our country’s history happened at the Beverly Hill Supper Club in northern Kentucky. Even today, I remember the months and months of news coverage.

I remember a local news article that interviewed Scott County high school teachers who had been there that night who said years of fire drills had taught them to leave when the alarms are sounded.

To this day I remember these stories. 165 people died at this fire. I am always uber aware of exits. At movies. At restaurants. At theaters.

So I’m always amazed when people push back about evacuations in real emergencies. Both times people continued to eat. To drink. Wanting to order. Etc.

It’s also extremely weird to go back into the building after said emergency.

It’s fucking weird.

In KPT dinners were still uneaten on the table. Drinks full. In Portland there were to go boxes where people realized they need to leave.

So take my advice.

If someone tells you to get out of their restaurant it usually means something is up. Don’t argue. Get the fuck out.

Tonight I got a call around 5:30.

I remember the time because our only push today was at 5:30.

Almost as soon as I answered the phone two guests walked in.

The person on the phone wanted to know if we had 3 seats at the bar, and if our bar had TVs, and were we showing the game.

I said yes on all accounts.

Followed by what would time would you like to come in.

I hear her call to her friends, and then begin a conversation about what time they’d be here. They are laughing, joking, and not giving me an answer.

By this time there are three couples standing in front of me waiting to be seated.

I continue to listen to this woman huck it up with her friends.

After about 45 seconds I tried to get her attention but she was not listening to me.

So I hung up.

Sat the guests who were waiting.

And waited for her to call back.

And she did.

And I made her reservation.

Which when she did arrive she was 20 minutes late for reservation.