Love Always, Chloe Jayne

When I was just a wee sprout, I remember my grams after a hard day working say “I’m just too pooped to pop!”  Visions of my grams exploding like a water balloon immediately filled my head. Today, however, I know exactly what she meant.

The weekend with Scott was fantastic! I am still planning to go to Alabama for Easter. I’m nervous and excited about it. I haven’t had the opportunity to talk to him since he left Monday afternoon. Actually, I haven’t had the opportunity to do anything except run home, change, shower, try to eat and go right back to work, it seems.  We have four waitstaff members out sick, during one of the busiest weeks of the year, so guess who’s pulling double and triple shifts?

I never fully appreciated my evening shifts until after having to fill in on day shifts this week. OMUHGOSH! I just thought night time was busy!

Anywhoodles, I’m only here for a few minutes, because I’ve got to go to a few appointments before going back to work tonight. I was promised Saturday and Sunday off, and I cannot wait. I think I will just sleep. Maybe indulge in some ice-cream, but definitely sleep.

I love my job. I love my job. I love my job! At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Dear Blogosphere, although there are certain business practices that tell us to chant the mantra “the customer is always right”, sometimes, this just is not the case.

I was supposed to be assigned to the bar last night. I love working the bar. The patrons are friendly, the tips are good, and usually, the worst I have to put up with is some over-zealous college kid hitting on me after one too many.

I clocked in at 4 yesterday and started setting up my station. I figured it was going to be a busy night for two reasons: (1) Saturday night (okay that’s a no brain-er) and (2) there was a big Bon Jovi concert. But at 5:30, Mr. Floor Manager tells me that Molly called in sick and I am not only going to be covering bar area, but her station as well. The private dining room, or what we lovingly refer to as “The Seventh Level of Hell“.

We have the private dining room for larger parties, and although we ask that customers make a reservation, when we have no private parties, the private dining room is used for “over-flow” traffic from the main floor.

Around 8:30 the place was really moving. The bar was full, the main floor was full, tips were flowing and all was good - and then they walked in.  He was wearing what had to be a $1200 suite, all posh and polished, and she was wearing a stylish little black dress, dripping in garish gold and diamonds. I smelled trouble.

First, they were upset with the Maitre’ d when he informed them that because they hadn’t made a reservation, he’d have to seat them in the private dining area, because there were no tables on the main floor. They openly complained about “not being seen” as they were escorted to their table.

I told them what our special was, and asked them if they’d like to order a cocktail or a glass of wine while they looked over the menu.

“Oh, we’re having champagne, dear.” The woman smirked.

Very well, I said and went off to get their bucket of bubbly. When I came back, she complained about her silverware being “Spotted” - which it wasn’t, but the customer is always right, so I took it away and got them both a new set-up. Then she complained that her glass was spotty, so I took it away and got them each new glasses. 

Every time I returned, there was a new complaint, the last one being that she was “catching a chill” from their current seating and could they please move to a different table.”

Shhhurreee.. no problem! I got them, their new silverware and glasses and champagne completely moved and left them to look over their menus.

When I returned to their table, I asked if they were ready to order, and the said no, that they needed more time. No problem, I thought. I can check up on the bar, and come back.

Now, while we are open till midnight on weekends, our kitchen closes at 11:30. The bar stays open till 12 and then we lock the doors. We don’t rush customers out, by any means, but we do not put in a kitchen order after 11:30.

By 9:25 I had checked their table no less than six times and they still were not ready to order.

She was fussing about us not having a particular type of seafood, and he was indecisive about what cut of beef he’d prefer. I tried to offer suggestions and substitutions to no avail.

At 10:15 pm they were STILLnot ready to order, and had already been through two bottles of champagne.  The Floor Manager asked me if they’d placed their order yet, and I said no, that they couldn’t make up their minds.

“Well the next time you check the table, let them know that our kitchen closes at 11:30″ He said.

I returned to their table again, checking my watch, 10:34, and asked if they were ready to order.

After answering a battery of questions about this dish or that dish they said no, they still hadn’t decided, bring more champagne. (We’re three bottles in at this point, which is a pretty quick drink-to-brain ratio). I said I’d be happy to and told them that if they were going to order certain dishes they may want to go ahead and place the order because our kitchen closed at 11:30, and off I went to get their drinks.

They sat there, playing this cat and mouse game, consuming mass quantities of bubbly, until 11:20! THEN, they decided they wanted our special. I told them I’d have to check the kitchen to make sure we weren’t out of it, given the hour.  And they were not happy when I returned to tell them that it had indeed been eaten all up.

I got a major scolding by chef when I placed their order at 11:28, a seriously stern look from Maitre d, when he realized we probably were not going to be locking the doors at 12, and when I got their order to their table, both complained endlessly about the quality of the food.

I ended up returning her plate to the kitchen three times and when I brought it back the last time, she threw her napkin in her plate and said “Well, now I’ve just completely lost my appetite! I want to leave!”

Nooooo Problem!

I gave them their check and the man says, “I’d like to see the manager!” So, I retrieved the manager.

I’m not sure what all they discussed but I know that the man told the manger that I never informed them of the kitchen closing time, and that I hadn’t bothered to check on their table for over an hour at one point. LIAR! ARRGGG!

Finally, they left, without leaving a tip, I might add.

Dear fine blogospherians, please, I implore you - when you enter an establishment to enjoy a fine meal, be aware of the staff and the establishments hours of operation. Yes, we are there to serve, and are happy to do so, but we are people too.

There are some benefits to working with the public. You meet some really interesting charactors, some not so interesting charactors and then, you meet some that you wish you could get to know much better.  And sometimes, when you’re on the same job for a number of years, you get to.

Last year, in the spring, Really Handsome Stranger came to our restaurant. He sat with a group of men who, as it turns out, were colleagues of his from his new job. I was their waitress. They tipped nicely, were a lively bunch of chatters and most of them seemed to be married, except for Really Handsome Stranger. Everytime I looked towards their table, he was looking back at me, smiling.

When I did their final table check, he asked me if I worked every night, and I told him no, but that I was there a lot because I was on the job for five years (at that time) and a senior staff member.

“So, you’re loyal?” He asks, and smiles.

One of his fellows commented about how great the service was, another commented on the food (both of which are excellent I might add) and another commented that the next time Really Handsome Stranger (Here after referred to as RHS) was in town, they would have to come back.

“Oh, you’re not from Really Big City?” I asked? To which he replied “No, I”m from Southern City.”

And so the evening ended.

Two months later, RHS and his colleagues were back. We chatted some over the course of their meal, and I learned that RHS worked for a publishing house in Southern City, who happened to work with an advertising company in Really Big City and he was “up this way” quite frequently.

Now, being a woman and being gifted with Women’s intuition, I was aware of the “sparks” between us - and the fact that he left a big tip with his business card with a heart on the back, didn’t hurt to pick up on that.  But, I am not into long distance relationships at all, and as I have previously stated, was at the time in a soon-to-end, all to smothering relationship, so I took the flirting as fun and left it at that.

Over the course of the past year, RHS has been in several times, and the last few times, he came alone. He always requests me as his waitress and we always talk for a bit, when I have time. I found out that he’s in his mid-thirties, not married, never married, no kids, no desire to have kids, plays in a jazz band, loves seafood and green tea, has 2 sisters, 1 brother and a goldfish.  On one occassion, he asked me out for coffee sometime, but the distance thing popped into my gray matter, and I graciously declined. (This was after smothering boyfriend was out of the picture of course).

Well…

This morning, bright and early, my friend and co-worker calls me to say that RHS was in last night, and was very disapointed that I wasn’t there. She told him that I had been sick and he asked her if it would be possible to get my phone number. She told him, as good friends do, that she’d have to ask first. So he says “I understand. I’m staying at Fancy Schmancy Hotel until FRIDAY! Here is my room number. Can you call and let me know what she says?”

Holy COW!

So, I tell friend, to call him and let him know that I did get his message and it’s okay if he calls me but not until this afternoon or evening.  I mean, I sound like I’ve eaten a bucket of glass and gravel! And I sneeze every 24 seconds like clockwork!

Friend says, Okay let me call and I’ll call you back. So I’m sitting there, looking at the phone, waiting for it to ring. And waiting, and waiting. And then finally, exactly 1 billion minutes later (or so it seemed. Maybe its the Nyquil talking), it rang. And she says:

“I got his service, but I left a message with your number and told him not to call you until after four because you’re resting. Chloe he’s so hawt! I mean, SMOKIN HAWT!”

So today, sometime after four, maybe I will get a call from RHS. I mean, its no big deal if he doesn’t call, its not like I’m going to be sitting here waiting or anything, right? And I’m sick. I’ll probably be sleeping. So okay, maybe I’ll set my alarm to wake up at around 3 and get my voice back, you know, JUST IN CASE he calls, but, not like I’m waiting. And I guess while I’m up, I’ll take a shower and get into some clean jammies and maybe fix my hair or something. I mean, I’ve been in bed what? Three days now? Yah, I think a shower is in order anyway, so it’s not like I’m showering anticipating a phone call or anything.

So, (note to self, you say “SO” a lot!) Yah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go on about my day until 3 and then grab a shower and some clean jammies and maybe fix my hair.

Should I put on some lipstick?

Love always

Chloe Jayne