Why We Need Sundays Off

Sometimes you just have one of those nights. Or perhaps I should say one of those weekends. Actually, we have been known to have “one of those summers” – that happened at the Kennedyville and is a story for another time. This time we got off easy – just one of those weekends. Actually, I suppose it started Thursday, because that is when Holly first started feeling poorly. By the end of service she was done out and went home early – unheard of behavior on her part. The domino effect started right then, at 8PM Thursday night. We went home that night knowing what was possibly in store and knowing we had to be really ready to deal with it. We didn’t even bother to pretend that maybe she’d be fine and show up at 9 as usual the next morning. She was basically exhausted and she needed the break.

Friday Holly calls and she’s been told she needs bed rest. But we knew that and we are already in Plan A.

And in case some of you aren’t clear on why having Holly out is such a major issue, let me just say that Kevin doesn’t write the prep list, Holly does. Enough said.

Little do we know what lies ahead.

Around 5:00 Friday night Dan the pot washer – already a little less than reliable employee, but a nice kid and willing worker, so he’s got that much job security anyway – gets a phone call, supposedly from his brother, who says that his grandmother has fallen and he needs to get to the hospital right away. I knew it was cold, but knowing Dan’s history with us, I knew this meant he’d be leaving for the night and possibly the entire weekend, and with Holly already out and Walter the line-cook-in-training being promoted to weekend sous-chef, I also knew this would be tough to swallow. So I basically asked him “what good could he do, leaving work and meeting his dad at the hospital”. I know cold cold cold. And I am normally not like that. But desperate people do desperate things. Long story short, he left, promising that he’d just run over to the hospital, see how she was, and come right back. Good by Dan.

So, Alec once again steps up to the plate and does the pots AND runs the dish racks. This 16 year old has really come a long way since he started working with us. He did a man’s job, and did it proudly. This is what we call a good thing. Meanwhile, LeVonte – the pot-washer-promoted-to-salad cook whom we have mentioned in previous posts – gets a phone call. Oh no. We know this is NOT a good thing. And yes, there is a family situation. But LeVonte is not Dan. He explains to his caller that he is not able to help out and they make other arrangements so he can stay. Oh my.

We make it through Friday night. It’s busy, full of locals who know each other. Everyone, including us, has a ball, slogging it out. It is one of the loudest nights I have ever worked. One of the later arriving customers remarked that she could hear all the commotion from out in the parking lot!!

So, home to bed and back to it Saturday...

Holly is still out. Dan of course is gone. Now Alec calls in. He is devastated but he also sounds very sick. He is out. So, we have no dishwasher for Saturday night, and we’re missing 25% of our cooking crew as well. We’re down to 50% of our kitchen staff as the typically busiest dining evening of the week is hours away. The drama builds – will the ice machine cave in to the pressure? Will the bartender call in sick next? What is around the corner?

Again long story short, we made it. Barely by the skin of our teeth, but we made it. Our newest dishwasher hire, Alec’s friend Justin, agrees to come in and cover Alec’s shift. Brad the busser is called up to be the salad guy – this would be his second time to do this, so he’s experienced! – and LeVonte agrees to take over his old role on the pots. We seat the first customers promptly at 5:00, just as Kevin and Walter are putting the finishing touches on their mise-en-place to be ready for them. From the start of the night, everyone goes to bat and does what has to be done to make it work. Jack the Host is going to bus. Whitney runs trays. Colleen, KT, and Ann take up their stations. Valerie preps her bar. Pete is going to float, which is a new role for him but he is fearless, and Matt does his bread thing as well as helping out where ever else he can.

We are very busy. And I inexcusably over seat the dining room. I go into the kitchen to see the entire board full of tickets, one end to the other, and almost all of them fired – people ready for their entrees, just about every single table. Oh. My. God. As I stood there gaping at what I knew was a disaster waiting to happen and just frozen by it, the kitchen printer whirs and two more tickets pop out. Kevin grabs them and just sort of freaks that there really is no space for them on the board, where is he going to put them? And then we get to work. It appears hopeful that none of the diners are aware of the situation – they seem to be having a good time, lots of conversation flowing, no one sitting emptily, just waiting for the food to come so they’ll have something to do, no one really seeming anxious. This is a good thing. Eventually one of the longest hours of my working life passes, and one by one, sometimes two by two, Walter, Kevin and Brad pump out the tables, with LeVonte jumping in now and then to help. Good food that looks good. They do it. And then I start seating tables again, but this time with a little more sense. Finally, the last order goes out and we all breathe a sigh of relief. Valerie made it at her very very busy bar, an early breakdown mainly averted and many customers eating there. The others on the floor worked and worked and worked and I think ended the night with a feeling of teamwork and job well done that we haven’t had a whole lot of yet. I only had to go to two tables to say that the kitchen was backed up and that their dinners were going to be delayed – and only one of them had even questioned the fact. I’m sure others were wondering but they didn’t seem to let it interfere with their Saturday night. We made it. What a feeling of relief that it was over.

So. Everyone leaves. Whitney for the last time – back to school on Monday.

We lock the door. Kevin is just about to set the alarm when it goes off. And it’s not the security alarm. It’s the fire alarm and it’s going off in the entire building.

A final long story short, we get home at 12:30 and sit for an hour more on the back porch watching the thunder storm that most likely caused the alarm system to go bonkers and caused Mr. Brown to have to come down and help get it straightened out. We drink wine and gasp at the lightning in the east.

Wonder what next week holds?

Postscript: we served a record number of customers Saturday night, of course.