I know he's thinking today's disaster was my fault. He doesn't have to say the words out loud. He does anyway, of course. I'm learning (quickly!) that all bets are off when we're in the weeds. And today, we were definitely in the weeds. Here's what happened.
We arrived at work just a few minutes before 7AM. We open at 7, but it's no big deal, I say, because the vacationing world doesn't get up before 8AM and we won't see them until after 9. And so when the first set of customers wander up to our counter at 7:05AM, we are hardly ready to go. The coffee is still brewing. The sign is still propped against the side of the building. Even our outside tables are smooshed together. This is not ideal, but it's managable.
They order bagels and breakfast sandwiches, yogurt parfaits and juices, then sit (right underneath our window where the tables are now propped) to watch us and wait. But the griddle won't heat up. We turn it to 400 degrees, and a tiny plume of smoke files up from the outlet. Rich cracks the eggs and they slide onto the griddle and sit there, raw eggs on a cold steel. With customers who are watching from 4 feet away. This is not good. This is downright embarrassing. Rich runs out back to fire up the grill and work off the small gas range that is attached to the backyard grill, while I start to pray and curse over the grill at the same time. "God," I pray. "Please turn this damn thing on. Just please, let this useless piece of junk work. Just this once. Just to finish this order." And it does. I hear a sizzle and slowly the griddle comes to life, cooking the eggs and crisping the (precooked) bacon. It takes ten minutes, but our customers have their food. "They're good!' the father says, a few moments later. Relief.
The plan is for me to run out and buy a new table-top electric grill as soon as these customers leave. I'll book it to the closest department store. "Buy two!" Rich calls to me in a loud whisper. I wish him well with the customers, but assure him that I'll be back before he sees anyone else.
At the store, I power walk to the kitchen section, grab the two most expensive (and hopefully best quality) table-top grills that they have and move to check out. But there's only two cashiers working. I'm in line behind a coupon queen who has just finished food shopping. She checks the price on almost every item. She can't find her credit card. She doesn't understand why they ask her to "select English" on the credit card terminal. Why should she have to choose English? she asks the cashier. Fifteen minutes later I am out of the store and racing back to the shop. He's been fine, I'm just sure of it.
But he hasn't. "I was in the weeds!" He declares (which is restaraunt slang for saying you were behind and couldn't catch up. Like a boat caught in a swamp of reeds, forever trying to gain ground but never actually able to.) He had a group of fifteen people, he tells me.
"We ran out of coffee. They don't like our garlic butter. One guy actually said to me, "What's going on here?" Like I owed him an explanation."
"It took me fifteen minutes to make them their food. They're never coming back. And then I was so stressed out that I ate two breakfast sandwiches right in a row."
" Yikes, honey. That bad!" I try to make light of it.
'They're from the New York City," I say. "What do you expect? Being rude is the norm. It means they like you."
"If we could just get here earlier this wouldn't have happened," He says. And I know where this is going. Here it comes...
"If someone was able to get out of bed when the alarm goes off, instead of 30 minutes before we have to leave, this wouldn't have happened."
I don't respond, because it's true. I get up at 5:10AM instead of his 4:30AM. I don't mention that 5:10AM is still crazy early. I just start on the dishes and we work in the silence for the next fifteen minutes.
"Two breakfast sandwiches in a row?!" I finally say. At which we both start laughing.
We arrived at work just a few minutes before 7AM. We open at 7, but it's no big deal, I say, because the vacationing world doesn't get up before 8AM and we won't see them until after 9. And so when the first set of customers wander up to our counter at 7:05AM, we are hardly ready to go. The coffee is still brewing. The sign is still propped against the side of the building. Even our outside tables are smooshed together. This is not ideal, but it's managable.
They order bagels and breakfast sandwiches, yogurt parfaits and juices, then sit (right underneath our window where the tables are now propped) to watch us and wait. But the griddle won't heat up. We turn it to 400 degrees, and a tiny plume of smoke files up from the outlet. Rich cracks the eggs and they slide onto the griddle and sit there, raw eggs on a cold steel. With customers who are watching from 4 feet away. This is not good. This is downright embarrassing. Rich runs out back to fire up the grill and work off the small gas range that is attached to the backyard grill, while I start to pray and curse over the grill at the same time. "God," I pray. "Please turn this damn thing on. Just please, let this useless piece of junk work. Just this once. Just to finish this order." And it does. I hear a sizzle and slowly the griddle comes to life, cooking the eggs and crisping the (precooked) bacon. It takes ten minutes, but our customers have their food. "They're good!' the father says, a few moments later. Relief.
The plan is for me to run out and buy a new table-top electric grill as soon as these customers leave. I'll book it to the closest department store. "Buy two!" Rich calls to me in a loud whisper. I wish him well with the customers, but assure him that I'll be back before he sees anyone else.
At the store, I power walk to the kitchen section, grab the two most expensive (and hopefully best quality) table-top grills that they have and move to check out. But there's only two cashiers working. I'm in line behind a coupon queen who has just finished food shopping. She checks the price on almost every item. She can't find her credit card. She doesn't understand why they ask her to "select English" on the credit card terminal. Why should she have to choose English? she asks the cashier. Fifteen minutes later I am out of the store and racing back to the shop. He's been fine, I'm just sure of it.
But he hasn't. "I was in the weeds!" He declares (which is restaraunt slang for saying you were behind and couldn't catch up. Like a boat caught in a swamp of reeds, forever trying to gain ground but never actually able to.) He had a group of fifteen people, he tells me.
"We ran out of coffee. They don't like our garlic butter. One guy actually said to me, "What's going on here?" Like I owed him an explanation."
"It took me fifteen minutes to make them their food. They're never coming back. And then I was so stressed out that I ate two breakfast sandwiches right in a row."
" Yikes, honey. That bad!" I try to make light of it.
'They're from the New York City," I say. "What do you expect? Being rude is the norm. It means they like you."
"If we could just get here earlier this wouldn't have happened," He says. And I know where this is going. Here it comes...
"If someone was able to get out of bed when the alarm goes off, instead of 30 minutes before we have to leave, this wouldn't have happened."
I don't respond, because it's true. I get up at 5:10AM instead of his 4:30AM. I don't mention that 5:10AM is still crazy early. I just start on the dishes and we work in the silence for the next fifteen minutes.
"Two breakfast sandwiches in a row?!" I finally say. At which we both start laughing.
RSS Feed