Friday NightShort

Friday Night


As I was walking to work I could feel the blood screaming through my veins, not only because of the frantic pace of my stride but because it was a Friday night. Managing one of the busiest restaurants is a challenge on regular week nights but Friday night was like a player being moved up to the major leagues. As a manager, I feel like the catcher on the team. Taking what gets thrown at me handling it for a second and throwing it back out to my teammates all the while hoping I make the right play and please our fans.

The sidewalks were packed with people; I had to weave in and out of snail-pace tourists, locals leisurely making their way to their car after work, and teens chilling with their buddies. I flung opened the double doors to find my wait staff wiping, stocking, dusting, and vacuuming. They know all to well the demands of a Friday night. As I continue to walk through the restaurant, the warm sweet smells of fresh bread baking hits my nostrils and instantly insights hunger pangs. No time to eat now, a meal is at least five hours away.

I make my way down the stairs to the office, looking around once more to do a quick head count, yep everyone is here! At least an employee no show wasn’t a ball that was lobed at me tonight. I unlock my office sit down and exhale, and think so far so good, why was I so panicked earlier? Then our head chef, Beau walks in looking very serious and yanks the phone book off the shelf and furiously ripping through the pages…I start to put on my mitt. “What’s up?” I ask. “Ovens just went out, can’t get them to turn back on.” I’d rather not handle this ball, tonight of all nights? I reply “Please beg our regular repair man to get here fast; we open in an hour, tell him I’ll buy him dinner for him and his wife too.” I was desperately hoping that the bribe of our succulent prime rib will be extra motivation for him to help us out tonight.

I now have to remind myself to breath as I head back upstairs to help set up for the night, mitt in hand. I make my way to the hostess stand. Look at the reserv tion computer, looks like it will be a killer of a night, sure hope we can cook all these people’s food. Beau pops his head out from the kitchen and yells the repair guy is on his way and will take two filets to go. Great, problem solved. On to the next task, wait what is that? My newest hostess, Aubrey, walking in for her shift with Rehainna pink hair and the shortest skirt I’ve ever seen “Aubrey” I say, “Where is the rest of your skirt? Please tell me you can wash that out; this is a fine dining restaurant.” She replies, “It’s not that short silly and I looooove this new color on my hair.” So, it looks as though I maybe passing my catcher mitt off to my back up manager and I’ll be the hostess tonight. Thank god, I’m exhausted already and we haven’t even opened the doors yet.