Have you noticed post-pandemic that perhaps your favorite local restaurant is understaffed and the staff that is there look stressed and worn out and exhausted? If you haven’t noticed, perhaps I can give you some pointers on restauranting from this side of the table. Yes, I’m using this as a verb, because many people who restaurant are ignorant about how to do it. And I can usually pick out those patrons who’ve never been employed in the food service industry.
I have been employed at a small, local Irish Pub for 7 years. In many ways, it has been a lifeline for me. It has seen me through a divorce, a few romantic relationships, my fits and starts as a career artist, a global pandemic, 4 moves and one trip to Europe, among many other things. I am deeply grateful to the owner, my co-workers and our many patrons, many of which are regulars as well as painting clients. (Don, Carynn, Steven, Andrew, Drew, Brian and Bonnie, Jennie and James - I know:I - , Chip, Scott, Elaine, Stacy, and more).
I thought things would only get better from 2020, but I think I’d prefer that year to this one. It feels like we went to the upside-down in 2020, and in 2021, we just ventured further in. I suppose one must travel through to get to the other side instead of turning around and going back the way one came. For about 5 minutes, once things re-opened, I noticed a surge of kindness and generosity as people appeared to be so grateful to be out and about once more. Now, it seems as though everyone has redoubled their efforts to be demanding, entitled and ego-centric moving about in a new world (please understand with these observations, I am desperately trying to hold onto a belief in the goodness, kindness and gentleness of people in general).
I’d had a week from hell. I found out I have to have eye surgery on both my eyes. At 50, I have cataracts! What??!! But yes! One of my children experienced a horrible trauma, so I’d been out of town trying to be present with her amidst dealing with my own car trouble. At this point, I was putting out the most urgent fires
I arrive at work for my last shift before a wedding the next day and a trip to the beach following. I was prepared for a Friday night shift that would be notably understaffed and probably with co-workers that were new and green, so much of the peripheral work would fall upon me, along with huge amounts of people that would be hungry and thirsty and want all of it right now. We’d been busier than normal for several weeks now.
I begin the shift as usual. I am covering the floor by myself and we begin to pick up. When it is like this, I try to communicate with my new tables and say that I’ll be with them shortly. A new table comes in, a young man and middle-aged woman. They are sitting, looking over the menu. I approach the table on my way back to the kitchen and say that I’ll be right with them. They never look up or respond, but as I do, I brush the table top with my hand, so I think they must hear and see me. But I don’t wait for a response. I bring the dishes back to the kitchen and return to the table and ask if I can start some drinks. The young man asks for a Smithwick’s Irish Ale. We always have this on tap. The correct Irish pronunciation sounds like “Smiddicks”. This young gentleman pronounces it Smithwicks. I don’t correct him. I ask to see his ID. As he pulls it out, the woman asks him if that’s what she usually drinks. Since he mispronounced his beer choice, I chime in to describe the Ale. While I am talking she continues to look at him and asks him questions about the beer. She, thus far, has not looked at me, made eye contact or even acknowledged my existence. I scan his ID and I notice he was born exactly 5 days later than my oldest daughter. Since it is clear she doesn’t want explanation from me, I leave and pour a pint for him. I come back to the table a third time with a pint of happy hour Smithwicks. The lady sitting with him begins to pull out her ID. (I was not going to card her; she looked my age - I’m 50). Without giving me a glance, she pulls out her ID and says she’s going to drink but doesn’t know what yet. I look at her ID. She was born in 1972. She is a year younger than me. I begin to ask her about what she might have to drink. She interrupts and asks me about the Irish Chips and what sauces come with them. I told her that our French fries don’t come with any sauces unless they’re loaded beer cheese fries, but I’d be happy to bring something alongside. She persists about the sauces, asking me again what sauces accompany our chips. I told her that we have all kinds of sauces and I really like our tartar sauce with the fries. We have salad dressings and barbeque sauce and all kinds of things. She cuts me off and asks if I’m copping an attitude. I tell her I’m just trying to understand what is wanted. (Inside, I’m wondering how could she possibly know if I’m copping an attitude, since this is the first time she has actually looked at me, even after three visits to the table). She says, “You know what? We’re just gonna leave”. I walk away. I don’t know what else to do. Nothing will make her happy.
I go about my business, bussing tables, tending to other customers. I return to the kitchen and find that the owner is on the phone trying to talk someone down. It’s her. She leaves the pub and immediately calls and demands to speak to a manager. She begins to complain about me, to which the owner comes to my defense immediately. The lady doesn’t like that. She hangs up and leaves a scathing review on Yelp. In the meantime, I am fuming, feeling dehumanized and unseen and unappreciated. The other tables that I am caring for notice the scene and validate how ridiculous this woman is, which feels incredibly kind, since I default to thinking everything is my fault. I’m learning there are times when it’s just not and people are responding out of their own experience.
It took me a whole week of processing and conversations and podcasts and reflections to recover from this one toxic interaction. Because….. and here’s the BECAUSE……
I deeply care about my job. And I’m really good at it. I deeply care about people. And damned if I’m going to write people off as the worst. I am deeply and desperately trying to continue to believe in humanity and the dignity of every human. It becomes increasingly difficult and subversive in a predominantly white, entitled, privileged culture where people forget what it’s like to apply some elbow grease and actually get one’s hands dirty serving others. If you are disconnected from that side of humanity, PLEASE reconnect yourself! Or at least, learn how to uphold the dignity of your neighbor! And if you find yourself becoming angry that you can’t get your favorite chicken sandwich right now or that special car part, remember that there are human beings behind all of those challenges that have stories, hearts and faces. They are not simply mechanical robots put in place to make your life work.
We are all struggling to make our way in the this new, strange post-pandemic world. The one thing we can’t leave behind is kindness and those small, beautiful ways we can hold up one another’s dignity. Please be kind, gracious and patient toward your neighbor. Those moments are so lasting and have powerful effects long into the future.