Category: Guests

The going-away party in the PDR was in full swing on Wednesday. And it was going well. Except the going-away girl had the same first name as my older-than-dirt cat, and I found myself constantly referring to her aloud with the same intonation that I use for said cat when he is getting on my…

“Well, everything was FINE,” sneered the leggy blond beauty in the little black dress and strappy heels to the bartender in the lounge as she and her shorter, dark and handsome beau began their gotta-be-seen saunter out of the restaurant. “I mean, FINE, except the chef didn’t come to our table to say hello, even…

Whenever Restaurant Gal Son calls me and starts the conversation with, “So, uh…” I am suspicious. This conversation could go anywhere, from: “So, uh, what was the name and phone number of that attorney you said I might need someday?” to “So, uh, I don’t know, I may take the LSAT. You know, just to…

I loathe coffee in the afternoon Tea, sure. Not coffee. But now that 5 p.m. is merely the middle of a 12-hour workday, I am coming around to accepting that a full-on Cafe Mocha WITH whip and whole milk might just be the ticket. Of course, when you say you’re headed down the street for…

Quick–what do 2:30 p.m., Friday, and August add up to? That’s right, an afternoon off. And with that exact combination in place last Friday, a party of nine ladies ladies was clearly enjoying every minute of TGIF. “Say, Restaurant Gal, you’re here every day, right?” asked the most jovial of the bunch. “Well, every weekday.”…

“How about we meet you for lunch, downtown?” No matter how professional, no matter how successful, no matter how utterly together they have it as senior managers, assistant vice presidents, program officers, partners, associates, interns, presidents, CFOs, or CEOs–the parent visit reduces adult offspring to a palpable state of adolescent dread. Oh sure, everyone (almost)…

Torrential rain, searing heat, snow by the foot, numbing cold–it matters not. Like the mail, my regulars appear at my podium every day, regardless. They anchor the hours and offer a curious kind of reassurance as I greet the hundreds of unknown others in between. “Hey Restaurant Gal. Save my seat for me?” Stew asks…

“Hi,” she almost whispered to me. “I have a reservation, to meet, um, someone.” Ah, the “someone” reservation. Someone has the potential to be one of many types of customers: –“I am here for a retirement party for SOMEONE in my office, but I have no clue who, because I just started working there this…

Okay, I know this may be of little interest to many beyond Restaurant Gal Daughter (where are you when I need you at work???), but we broke ALL the records for lunch rushes today–800-plus. I don’t even want to do the math about how many people I talked to per minute between 11 and 2:30.…

“Why is she sending all the black people to this area of the restaurant?” asked one of two women I had just sent to be seated from our other host podium. My counterpart–a black male who is usually a man of many words and sage sayings–was rendered speechless. “Excuse me?” he asked the two women.…