My favorite manager opened, and when he had time, he helped me seat the downstairs sections.
My other favorite counterpart staffed the upstairs podium, and everyone–from walk-ins to large-group reservations–was easily and properly seated.
The copier didn’t break down.
The host who usually calls out, showed up–early.
No one asked to change tables.
I only handed out one pager, and I made sure they had a table within five minutes.
A group of firefighters wearing kilts came in and hung out at one of our bars. They had just played the bagpipes and drums at a ceremony nearby. They were so cool and so friendly.
A regular yucked it up at the podium with me, calling me “baby” and “sweetheart” and “sugar” and just about every other term of endearment. After I seated him, a group of three ladies who’d been waiting behind him used all the same terms with me. It was fun to laugh with two groups of customers in a row.
One of the nicest, gentlest bartenders on the planet shared some of his stories with me during the slow time in the afternoon.
The night shift arrived on time and ready to work.
The sun shone, the temperature climbed, and I walked for two hours with a friend after work.
These are the days to remember, yes?