The busiest day of the year for both Florists and Restaurants.
It's a nightmare - the final hump - mountain as it were - between Christmas and Next Christmas. There will be other busy days, private parties, weddings, events, caterings, but Valentines, it's a big one. There are a couple of dozen tables and chairs to be brought up from the basement, the organization of tables and reservations - the unending phone calls for the weeks prior, the anticipated loathing of the day consumes one for a week prior.
It's always anticlimactic - easy enough, all the tables are deuces - couples, most not regular diners, regular diners know better than to go out on Valentines.
Monday night, the evening before, we're busy. Restaurant people. men/women with their lovers, Valentines Day is always reserved for the spouse.
Valentines Day. We've a set menu, a necessity, not overly pricey - $75.00 per head, but enough to dissuade a few people who don't reserve, or call back and cancel. People think you're gouging them, in a way, perhaps - not like the florist, who is suddenly charging $100.00 for a dozen roses that cost $19.99 every other day of the week, no, we're giving value for dollar - the Owner's good that way - but quite simply, given the number of people we're doing, given how busy we'll be, we simply can't do a la carte. So they get value, but they have to spend money. And, again to the owner's credit, he's still doing special requests, he marks down the price on vegetarian options, still, no matter what you do, and given the infrequent nature of this, the Valentines Crowd, you can't please everyone. Complaints about price, etc. are inevitable.
Valentines. We're fully booked, done the math and fit in more, we're actually overbooked, but given the no-shows and last minute cancellations we're doing fine. No line or wait at the door. "Blissful" couples - for so many a mere formality, convention, the expectation of "romance" with all the spontaneity of a reservation made weeks in advance. Most are sad lots, there's nothing even slightly romantic about them. A few, blind first dates from internet dating sites one suspects, seem more hopeful - love is always hopeful when fresh. It's anticlimactic, people always expecting, somehow, more than you can deliver, some are happy enough, others, well, perhaps a change of spouse is what's needed.
The night passes. Not so busy, not really, busy only because you're carrying the other staff members who are somehow finding time to flirt, chat, do other things. The end of the night the Nephew and I remove the tables - it's always us, M and Z are "too old" to do manual labour, me, I'd rather do anything than chat to customers, it suits me fine. We're done before midnight.
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Wednesday, off, busy in the book with more couples that had more sense than to dine out on Valentines, but are still in the week. I'm off, sleeping, mindless errands, reading....
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Thursday - work again, finding out that the new salad girl didn't show up from work. possibly forbidden by her boyfriend, we don't know, nephew doesn't want to discuss it. He's afraid his Pa will give him shit. I can imagine her possessive, diminutive lover forbidding her to go to work there, but, then, he should have known, he's Italian as well...
It's a long day, early morning at the Dentist, then to work, later night, then home.
Friday, Long Weekend Friday, is slow. The owner has decided to close on Monday, fine, holiday diners are the worst, but it raises the possibility that as we've already had our "day off" there won't be another that week. I don't want to consider it. A busy lunch with tables that won't leave, that hang about until dinner, my blood boils, the 3 hour closing in the afternoon a ridiculous formality that nobody acknowledges. The evening busy enough, limited staff, it's a long weekend, the regular diners are out of town.
Saturday, Long Weekend Saturday, is busy.
Somehow everyone's shown up early to work, everything is done well before the shift starts. The nephew addresses me with his latest online research - "coprofagia" - and I can't help but wonder where this comes from. We have different surfing habits. M - the older, professional waiter, argues with the Nephew about the lack of work the Nephew does - he's never to be seen polishing glasses, folding napkins, he's always on the phone, groping the girls.
It is maddening, this, we all split the tips as equals, but - really - some of us are more equal than others.
The nephew defends himself - he's never seen M taking down bottles to the basement - and this, I have to laugh out loud, is inane, I've never seen M do it, but never seen the Nephew do it as well, this is my job, and no one has ever seen fit to interrupt or assist me. I point this out, loudly laughing, the Nephew laughs, he gets it, still they're each equally righteous - M, good natured, but not so, and the Nephew astounded that this ancient doddering relic should dare to question his work ethic or competency...
The evening eventually starts, crazy, one rush, but a bad hit, all at once as it were, the kitchen is slow, crashing, we finish early but with all the yelling and screaming a long night. We bring in all the part-timers, but, oddly, we're always busier than if they weren't there, the diffusion of responsibility, the people getting in the way, it slows things done.
So ends Valentines 2012. The last - I hope - to be spent serving. It's time. The last - predictable - crazy day