I have to admit it’s a great job owning a restaurant. I inherited the place from my grandmother (I was always her favorite) who had run a family restaurant here for years. My brother Mike and I spent several months renovating, cleaning up and restoring the historic décor. Then we hired a crew to install a completely new kitchen while we installed a restaurant-management computer system. Then I hired the best French chef I could find and called a friend of mine at the newspaper. One extremely favorable food critic review later, we were off and running into being the fashionable place to be in the city.
It was a sweet life. We renovated an large condo above the restaurant that I lived in. We renovated an office next door to my condo. And there was a stairway down to a private entrance to the bar, near the back. Every morning, Mike came in and handle the whole lunch thing while I worked out at the gym. Then about 2:00 or so, he came upstairs and we had coffee and a light lunch together. Then I worked on the books, ran errands, or just hung out until about 5:00 when I was always downstairs at the corner of the bar for the evening business.
It was a sweet job. I had a special place at the end of the bar, a private telephone by my side, the newspaper (hey, I got up late every day) and a hot pot of coffee from fresh-ground beans (OK, so I do have my weaknesses). I handled the ugly stuff -- people without reservations, drunks, people with reservations that were screwed up, and so forth. Luckily, I had a great staff and most of the time, I just observed and talked to people that came to drink and eat. Sweet job -- I meet the nicest people.
Tonight, I came downstairs a little late, around 6:00, grabbed my cup of coffee and paper, but put them both down as I heard a mix-up begin to get out of hand over at the greeter’s table. Megan is usually pretty great so I figured this was something big. As I walked over, I heard enough to know that somehow, don’t ask why, we had mixed up reservations. Rather than let people get upset (bad karma), I quickly intervened.
“Megan, sounds like we messed things up with this group. ” A group of faces, male and female, turned to see who I was. One started to talk but I quickly began speaking calmly with a smile , “Megan, as I said, sounds like we messed thing up. Please ask Eric to prepare the owner’s table and I will treat this group to appetizer and drinks at the bar. Please come with me. ”
I heard them murmuring behind me, satisfied by the sound of it, as I escorted them to a large table in the bar area. “Please, be my guests. Monica,” as a waitress approached, “we messed up these nice people’s reservation and their table is being prepared. Please bring them their drinks and appetizers on the house please. ”
Later, I watched as they had their party at the owner’s table including cake for one of the women. Much later, after I ate my supper (usually a salad) at the bar and I was thinking about doing some paperwork upstairs and watching Sports Center, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the birthday girl herself wearing a business suit over a starched white blouse, jacket open, pinstriped slacks on her legs. Blond with great green eyes, I had a glimpse of a nice body beneath her suit as she bent over to place her bag by her stool. Then I noticed the ring on her finger.
“Happy Birthday,” I said with a smile as I stood a motioned her to the seat next to me. “My name’s Rick. “ She smiled and sat as she asked Bobby, our bartender, for a decaf coffee. “I‘m Sharon. ”
I smiled and told the bartender, “My blend, Bobby. ” She smiled again, nice even white teeth.
“Thanks for making all this happen tonight. ”
“Oh no, just a mix-up. That’s what the manager is for, to clean up mistakes. ”
“Well, I wanted to say thank you. Especially since it wasn’t a mix-up. ”
“What do you mean?” as Bobby set down two cups of coffee.
“Well, I know Raymond. A great lawyer but an asshole in public. I know he didn’t call for the reservation. But you did the right thing; he’s an ass. ”
I laughed politely, the loudly. She looked on, then joined me in a good laugh. “Well, he can talk about how he screwed me over tonight. But, it’s just good business. No one eating here or waiting to eat here wants to be disturbed by a scene. Besides, it’s my place and I’ll be nice if I want to. ”
