My favorite manager came to work for days on end with a bum foot, never complaining, until it got so bad he went to the doctor. The doc said, “Stay off of it for a week. Take antibiotics. Then we’ll see if it needs surgery.” Surgery? He came to work a few days later, anyway. Taking off a full week was impossible for him. He says the foot’s doing better. He says he’ll know tomorrow if he needs surgery.
Call him crazy for coming to work. I call him driven. He is a pro, and I will work for him anywhere he works. Hopefully, he will stay put.
For the past two days, one of the best servers we have has worked a popular section normally handled by two, all on his own. Double seat him? No problem. Triple seat? Bring it on. How about one more? Fine! Happy customers in his section? Always.
Call him crazy for never saying no. I call him unbelievably able. Would that he could always have that section all to himself, build up a loyal following, and make tons of money.
For the past two days, I have been sick with a nasty chest cold. You know the ailment–when you talk too much you go into a half-hour coughing jag. Customers find this charming, I am sure. Today, I also had to add training a new host to my plate. Restaurant Gal Daughter offered to come in early, off the clock, to help–to be my voice, if you will, “So you won’t cough so much.”
Call me crazy for not calling out. Call Restaurant Gal Daughter crazy for being willing to work off the clock.
Call me lucky to be surrounded by a few shining stars in my galaxy.