Last night while I was bartending, a women came in to have a drink. Now, this doesn't happen very often at my restaurant because our bar doesn't have an ideal set-up for this. Usually when people come in and see it, they turn around and go somewhere else. But this lady was not detoured in the least bit.
After a few sips of her gimlet, it became clear how utterly alone she felt. Her mate, as she referred to him, had died suddenly from cancer just five months ago. The weekends were the hardest because she didn't have work to distract her. She said she had to plan the whole 48 hours out just so she could keep herself busy. Over the past month, the entire process of planning was exhausting her.
As a bartender, your secondary job is also being a counselor. Most of the time it's just small chat, but every once in a while you encounter some big chat -- and this definitely fell under that category.
This weekend was especially hard since all of her plans disintegrated, and most of her friends were busy with other things. She went to a matinee show, and then stopped at our place on the way back home. She said she always took it for granted the content feeling she had during weekend mornings when she cooked breakfast while her mate sat and read the paper. No plans, no agendas, just the happy feeling of being with the love of your life and not having to say or do anything. You can just be.
She paid and left her half-empty drink at the bar, probably not able to see that some day she might view it as half-full again. She said she'd be back sometime soon, but I doubt it. Hopefully she'll be able to keep busy enough next weekend.
October 15, 2012
October 9, 2012
The Mazie edition
She was an awesome and enthusiastic kitchen assistant. She intently listened to all of the instructions, and was completed fascinated with how the yeast helped the dough expand. Every couple minutes she'd run over and check the bowl to make sure that the dough was still growing.
After we finished all of pizza and cooking baking, we all snuggled up on the couch and watched The Lorax. All of us were pretty sleepy by the end of the night.
The next morning Mazie preformed an original song for us, and this time she had Tyler play the guitar with her. Here is one of the performances on tape, and more pictures to look at.
October 1, 2012
Bye bye brunch
Fall officially started less than two weeks ago, and I couldn't be happier. It's not the cooler weather, the colors changing in the leaves, or the first few weeks of football -- it's because brunch is over.
Every summer, the restaurant is open for brunch during the farmers' market once a week. And during that summer, I am turning and burning the tables on our patio during the first part of the day, and then returning to a more fine dining style during the evening.
The whole thing wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for a few factors: closing the night before then returning within eight hours; and everyone thinking brunch is a synonym for a buffet.
I know hotels, casinos, and even the Manor help instill this idea in people's minds: brunch = buffet. And when guests are handed a menu with prices listed, that should help distinguish an a la carte brunch from a buffet. One morning I went in circles with a gentlemen four times before his date had to intervene and help me explain how a menu works. He just kept asking me, over and over, "but where's the brunch?"
Working in the hospitality industry is challenging, and can be rewarding, but it's moments like these that make me wonder how I'm able to hold my tongue. I don't know why, but brunch appears to attract a lot of socially challenged individuals, and amplify moronic behavior. It could be the lack of caffeine in the morning, the bottomless mimosas, or a combination of the two. I have seen people show up with shirts on backwards, annihilate social norms of public displays of affection, call the cops for family spats, and lose all sense of logic. Brunch is definitely not a meal Vulcans would enjoy.
And sometimes throughout the course of the shift, there are pleasant, intelligent guests who give you a glimmer of hope for humanity in all that dark madness. It helps you survive the morning, and keep up the energy to persevere through the evening too.
But now the memory of brunch is drifting away, and the off season brings the necessary break I need to regroup for the winter. And the best part is I have my football filled Sunday mornings back.
Every summer, the restaurant is open for brunch during the farmers' market once a week. And during that summer, I am turning and burning the tables on our patio during the first part of the day, and then returning to a more fine dining style during the evening.
The whole thing wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for a few factors: closing the night before then returning within eight hours; and everyone thinking brunch is a synonym for a buffet.
I know hotels, casinos, and even the Manor help instill this idea in people's minds: brunch = buffet. And when guests are handed a menu with prices listed, that should help distinguish an a la carte brunch from a buffet. One morning I went in circles with a gentlemen four times before his date had to intervene and help me explain how a menu works. He just kept asking me, over and over, "but where's the brunch?"
Working in the hospitality industry is challenging, and can be rewarding, but it's moments like these that make me wonder how I'm able to hold my tongue. I don't know why, but brunch appears to attract a lot of socially challenged individuals, and amplify moronic behavior. It could be the lack of caffeine in the morning, the bottomless mimosas, or a combination of the two. I have seen people show up with shirts on backwards, annihilate social norms of public displays of affection, call the cops for family spats, and lose all sense of logic. Brunch is definitely not a meal Vulcans would enjoy.
And sometimes throughout the course of the shift, there are pleasant, intelligent guests who give you a glimmer of hope for humanity in all that dark madness. It helps you survive the morning, and keep up the energy to persevere through the evening too.
But now the memory of brunch is drifting away, and the off season brings the necessary break I need to regroup for the winter. And the best part is I have my football filled Sunday mornings back.
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