It's Not ALL Bad!

I spent some time last night looking back at what I've posted so far. Boy, can I be a whiner! Sometimes it takes an indifferent outsider to evaluate and offer constructive criticism (thanks, RG!). Even good parents can be blind to bratty offspring.

So, tonight, for a change of pace, one of the many reasons why I toiled so long in the restaurant biz, and why I still care so much.

Suggested mood-enhancing music..."Reasons", Earth, Wind, and Fire.

Once, many years ago, I was chosen to help open a new "Linguine Bisto" in the Northeast. One of my favorite parts was interviewing all the interesting people who showed up. Anyone who enjoys people-watching at the mall would be enthralled, especially since you now get the back-story to go with the visuals. Such a varied cross-section of America!

One day, two women in their forties showed up at our little trailer in the parking lot, looking a little apprehensive, a bit out of place. Most of these mass job interviews comprise mostly younger, aggresive, hungry job searchers looking to upgrade from their fast-food roots. These two stood apart, and my natural curiosity caused me to zoom in on them. Since I was the only one interviewing at the time, I had them all to myself.

I called the first one to my little table off to the side. She had a little experience cooking, but mostly was a home cook who wanted to earn more than she was. Sometimes, these are the diamonds in the rough that experienced managers look for, to polish and nourish like tulip bulbs, until they spring forth and bloom. She was in her 40's and mature, something we like to help stabilize a combustible kitchen. Hired!

I went up to her friend and said, "Okay, where's your application?"

"Oh, no, I'm just here to support my friend. I'm not here for a job interview!"

She was early-forties, not especially chic, but had dressed better than most, and had a smile that made you want to smile back. We joked back and forth, and I talked her into interviewing anyway. She had a part-time job preparing those tid-bits that they accost you with at Sam's Club, and I could tell she wasn't in love with it. A little prying, a touch of charm, a smidge of prodding, and I had her agreeing to a part-time daytime Hostess position. I knew I could build her into a quasi-Mom, a stabilizing influence at lunch. Alas, she wasn't the sharpest ax in the woodshed. But, hey, she had boatloads of personality.

A few weeks into the opening, we had a running gag amongst the managers that we shared only with ourselves. The GM had hired a guy named Anthony to be a busser. Anthony was a challenge to be sure. He almost had to be re-trained at the beginning of every shift, as I'm sure he must have been terminally ADD. Unfortunately, he didn't last long, and we all enthusiastically reminded our GM of "his Anthony". It all turned into a revolving joke of "Whose Your Anthony?" amongst the management and who we each hired. "Dina", the Hostess, became my "Anthony".

I welcomed the ribbing, since I could claim that Dina showed up for every shift...early. She also brought in home-cooked goodies at least once a week. She also became the "quasi-Mom" that I envisioned to the young waitstaff. If I needed a shift covered, she was there. She never questioned, she never talked back, and she seemed grateful that we had hired her.

After nine months at that location, I was transferred to another store 30 miles away. It was sad to leave a store that I had helped give birth to, and it was a birth with no epidural, although plenty of adult beverages were ingested.

Two years later, after moving 1500 miles away and leaving the chain, I was visiting a relative in the area on vacation and drove down for a visit. Who greeted me at the door? My "Anthony". She was now the senior daytime person and had really found her calling. Although none of the previous management was still there, the current managers still carried on the tradition of the "Anthony", and my "Anthony" was the only one still there, and was an integral part of their success.