Last week at a restaurant in P’town I asked for a glass of Sancerre. A few moments later someone other than my server came by to say that they were out. This was annoying for two reasons: I really wanted that wine, and our server should have been aware of that fact ahead of time. Somebody was clearly slacking. Disappointment is much more palatable when served swiftly. Hey Ho. No biggie. It was good to be on that end because now I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening to my guests.

Speaking of my guests, last night I walked into work to learn that my section was booked for a party of 14 and that I had to turn them in two hours for another party of 12. With nearly 60 on the books, these parties made up almost half of our reservations for the evening and there were many people turned away because we could not fit any more bodies. Sounds like good news, no? No. With few exceptions, large parties ruin the night for everyone like eighteen wheelers on a two lane highway.

The first party was due at 6:30. At 6:20 we received a phone call that they were running late. Given the state of travel in Boston lately, it was no surprise, just a mere disappointment that would throw everything off. I needed every single person to be in their seat at 6:30 for my magic to work. I contemplated how I could make things work out. Should I tell them that we were out of everything that took more than 15 minutes to prepare? Maybe pretend that they had a pre-fixed menu, order all 3 courses now and have the apps on the table as soon as the first straggler arrived? No. That would not fly. No matter how bastardly people behave I simply refuse to cheat. All I could do was wait.

At seven there were four people present. Sensing the aggravation, the host of the group apologized and I appreciated the sentiment, for the moment. The entire party wasn’t assembled until 7:30 and even then they were scattered about talking on cell phones, smoking outside and cluttering up the front of the restaurant. I was defeated and we had yet to begin. I had two other tables of nice, normal people that would most likely be the source of any real money to be made that night and I had to hussle them through like it was a soup line to accommodate the hoard. People were ordering bottles of wine then disappearing outside to chat on the phone. There was not one moment when all 14 people were at the table. In fact, they had called earlier to say that they were 13. I had the bus girl take away a setting and then when they all “arrived”, they were in fact 14. When the bus girl returned with the chair and silverware, a cocky woman said to her “Oh, you were short one”, she shot back “No, you’re one more than you said you would be.” Well done Holly!

I took my time, because I could not get everybody seated long enough to get their orders and I will be damned if I am going to obtain their orders in parts. That would be a tactical disaster with the kitchen and the last time I checked, I wasn’t a truck stop waitress! I finally decided that I was not going to be there all night while they ran up their mobile minutes on my watch. I took the order for 11 people and when I asked whether or not the other 3 would like to place their orders I was told that they had gone. THEY LEFT! I could not believe it. Three people make a difference. We could have easily arranged the table down to make way for additional more courteous and on time guests, but no I was stuck with these people.

I was worn down, my spirit broken I decided to accept my fate. There have been plenty of times where I have come out way on top and this was no big deal in the big picture. A minor upset. But, for the love of Pete, there could have been a more courteous manner that these folks could have adopted? In their defense, when it came time to pay up, the woman who was the first to arrive also paid and slipped me more than enough. In the end I suppose that’s all that really matters.

There is one word to describe the general disposition of today. BIZZARE. It started at work with table seven. They walked in, a couple, looking very pleasant and I was looking forward to contributing to their dining experience. When asked if they would prefer bottled water or good ole Boston tap, the gentleman’s reply was a stiff “Gimme a Heineken” that was said looking down at his menu. I repeated the question unsatisfied with my answer until his female companion answered me with the appropriate response. When I returned with the beer I was hoping they had made their selections and would soon be off to their next engagement. I asked if they had any questions, something told me they had a few. I was right. She asked me what kind of food this is; I replied that it was French cuisine. She was clearly annoyed.

“Do you have any seafood?” was her next response as she looked at me unwilling to glance at the menu. At this point I had grabbed the menu that the gentleman was using as a coaster for his Heni. I began to recite the four seafood items in descending order from the top hoping she would join me in the experience. She did nothing of the sort. Instead she looked up, she looked down and to the side until she heard something she recognized. Scallops. “Great!” I replied and moved on to her friend who had finished about three fourths of the beer. He was not in the mood for any dialogue and asked me if we had any steak. I said yes, avoiding another menu recital. Medium rare he replied into his pilsner glass and I was of to the Micros machine to put in the order.

The rest of the evening maintained that same sort of annoying tone, except that this time it came from within. I sucked. I really did. I was missing the small steps that made me feel and probably look really inexperienced and slacking. I could not catch up and was 2 steps behind the whole night. Thank God my co-workers were on their game and had my back.

The finale to my evening was table 24. Early on the woman of the party had given me her credit card; she wanted to treat the table to dinner. A lovely gesture I thought as I put her card in my pocket. Later on, my GM came up to me and handed me another card and said that the gentleman at the table wanted to pay. I said that I already had a card and that it was already done. She shot back “You take care of it” - a most proper response.

So upon presenting the bill, I gave the woman her copy and card in a check presenter and thanked her, I then gave the guy his card and said that she had beaten him to the punch. He leapt across the table up to his waist and tried to grab the check from her hand all the while telling saying, “No! No! No!” I said it had already been run and… “Reverse it! Reverse it” he screamed. I could not believe that this was happening in front of me. For one thing I cannot stand when I bring the bill to the table and everybody fights and grabs over it. Secondly when they go as far as to include me in the scuffle, looking at me threateningly it infuriates me. I said that it was her win and he should say thank you. I then walked away, towards the back, to catch some air and shake off that shabby display of manners. As soon as I walked out side it became crystal clear why this night had gone the way it had. My answer shone brightly in the sky overhead in a cream colored sphere.

I spent the weekend on the Cape getting my summer place ready for occupancy. I have a deal with my roommate here in Boston and my good friend, also here that involves the sharing of the place among the three of us. It’s a common occurrence for summer rentals; friends renting it out to others, switching weekends, etc. I have the convenience of having it during the week if I choose. They are both 9-5 ers, inaccessable during the week, in addition, my job is such that I can easily give away a shift or have somebody paid off to take it. I love my job(s)!

We had hoped for a weekend of cleaning, reminiscing, planning cookouts and sitting on the beach letting the Atlantic air come through the windows and sweep away the winter stale. Instead we sat indoors and fought back the Atlantic rain as it came through the windows. Oh well. It made for a day of jumping into puddles and strolling through town, unfortunately we were not the only ones looking to spend the afternoon like that. Not a big problem, I can share and play well with others. I do have a problem though, with people who are so unaware of those around them that they end up being a nuisance.

Umbrellas. A nifty tool and a must-have for city living. Also a convenient, unintentional weapon in the hands of the chronically oblivious. Upon opening the umbrella, does the brain close even further? The reminder of not only those sharing your space, but for the 5 foot long plastic rod and the 3 foot diameter dome atop it should be administered through electro shock therapy and severe cash penalties. People were swinging those things around in an alarming manner. The times that I came close to losing one or both of my eyes began to happen so frequently, I actually feared for my sight! I asked Sarah if perhaps we should retreat home. She agreed and we ducked underneath a huge Lady bug sticking out from the shoulder of a self-absorbed blonde talking to everybody around her.

Aside from the perils of the umbrellas we also had the misfortune of another terrible East Coast problem: Mosquitoes. They must be some sort of curse from when we took the land from the natives. If you tune into the news every so often, you will hear that we had a lot of rain this spring so far. The more rain we have, the more water collects in those “off the beaten path” spots that in turn serves as breeding grounds for the blood sucking terradactyls. They were absolutely remarkable in their ability to withstand sideways rain and bite you. It can almost be pictured as if they are riding the air stream and water like a surf board, surfing right into our arms and legs. Bastards they are. You couldn’t walk 3 feet without fighting them. “Off” and like products were flying off the shelves of local stores. Everyone I encountered, myself included, had a sharp, imposter citrus scent to them that sort of became nauseous after a couple of hours.

We got things cleaned up, broke the bed frame, and waved goodbye. I will be back this weekend with a new Futon frame. Don’t ask. It is still wet here, but I do not mind, I am well aware of what is to come. Meanwhile, Sarah and I bought a gas grill and I plan on christening it tonight with some good ole fashioned grilled chicken kabobs. I am feeling adventurous and I am going to try something on my new toy. Brocolli stems. I throw them away every time I get the stuff and wondered if there can’t be some use for these things. It’s just too much to throw away. So all suggestions are welcomed as well as any grilling recipes, rubs, marinades, techniques etc. I’ll let you know how they turned out.