I had the most wonderful dream.
The day dawned sunny and warm, but not hot.
The lunch shift showed up on time and no one complained about anything. I sensed one server was not feeling well, and I asked if he’d like to head home. He did, happily.
We quietly opened the doors for lunch, and they came–some reserved, others unannounced and unreserved. Many knew me by name, others remembered me from my old restaurant. The food was, as always, spectacular; so was our service.
Dreams are so fun.
We had no host, so I played that part, too. And I loved it, because I know that role well and could finally talk and smile and laugh with every guest who found us. My GM and I joked around and found a comfortable kind of place with one another, both on the floor and at the podium.
In the midst of it all, I booked a nice event on top of several others for this weekend, and the host seemed to welcome the food and beverage minimum. “No problem meeting that!” he laughed.
Dreams are the best.
Chef, who still looked tired, found a way to smile and chat with me. He urged me to “Do my thing” and keep going with private event bookings. Sure, every day, lunch and dinner, he said. Bring ’em in! Um, I kind of already am, but great! Now I won’t worry that I am booking and promoting too much in that realm.
You can do anything in a dream.
My undermining coworker offered to show me how to close out a shift. He patiently explained every step and didn’t try to rush me through when I explained I had to write down every step in order to do it again the next day and not have to ask for help. When things got rocky with him during the beginning of the dinner shift, I stood my ground and he backed off.
I love dreams!
I got three full hours on the computer and no one pretended it was so busy they needed me on the floor. I developed a private event package suitable for editing and publication. I returned private event calls and answered email. I accomplished a day’s worth of work in those three hours. Time flew.
Time always flies in a dream.
I got home “early” and could at least talk briefly with Mr. Restaurant Gal about the big day he has tomorrow for his start-up. And after I wolfed down the steak he’d left in the fridge for me, he was still awake to hear me compliment the chef.
I know, this was some kind of dream.
And I didn’t flinch. And I didn’t cry. And I didn’t worry. And I felt the beginning of a calm sense of confidence I’d thought was lost forever.
This Gal sure can dream.
Would that I didn’t have to wake up.