My Restaurant. Volume One.
As some of you may already know, I have before talked and will again talk about My Restaurant. Now, before you get all excited and hungry, allow me to preface this discussion by passing on the knowledge that I do not in fact own, run, or own a restaurant.
"Then how dare you write that as the opening to and title of your blog?!" you exclaim with some indignity and italics.
This topic lends itself to what My Restaurant will be if I ever gather the capital needed to own, run, and own a restaurant. These are things I have picked up from other establishments, things I do not like from other establishments and wish to improve on, and things I have figured out how to do after working in an establishment specializing in food service. I decided to go with Part 1 as part of the subject because I have not finished, in my own mind, My Restaurant, nor have I the patience to go through all the stuff I've thought about. So, I decided to do this in parts. Both to give me something else to write about when the fancy struck and to drive you, the occasional and/or random reader, mad. Mad in that you simply cannot wait to find out more about My Restaurant and it's inner workings and where to find one and what do you serve and do you validate? No on the last one, sorry.
Brief History Lesson: After graduating college, I worked for approximately 2 and a half years at WMDT-TV 47, a local station in Salisbury. By the time I left, I was the Weekend Director. The Head Director, if you will, was not going to be leaving anytime soon (or so it seemed), so my journey up the ladder was temporarily stunted. I could achieve no more at this time. So, I left for greener pastures and moved back to the hustle and bustle that Columbia, MD had become. After spending roughly 4 months not getting another job and blowing my savings by attending festivites at the local pubs 6 nights a week, I found myself needing some sort of monetary supplement for my already lavish lifestyle. I had heard that Pimping Ain't Easy, so I lowered my bar and went for the easy job. Which, it turned out, was working the salad station at the local Uno's restaurant in Ellicott City. I became a Salad Tosser. ---Insert I prefer syrup joke here--- The job was awful. I then moved to being a Host, and eventually a Server. Not a Waiter or Waitress (oh how I longed for that title), but a Server. That's what they're called now. P.C. and all.
In my time there I found that I did not like my time there. I was good at it, as I am at all things on the planet, but it was not for me. Something about pandering to a Vulgar Man Of Ill Repute when his well-done steak takes the exact amount of time that a well-done steak takes to prepare but he thinks it should come out quicker and makes his point known with vivid comparisons of yourself to a Chimpanzee performing the duties of a common restaurant server that really sticks in my craw. Then, when the VMOIR does not accept your well-spoken and pleasantly relayed explanation as to why his meal is not yet being consumed by him, the Manager comes over to Straighten Everything Out. Which means either the VMOIR will receive a free meal or his meal will be on the house.
"But why would he do that? That doesn't make sense," you state in a bewildered and again italicized manner.
Correct. That does not make sense. You see, Restaurant Managers firmly believe that if you do not immediately bend over to a customer (even if that customer is completely out of line and they know it), said customer will immediately leave the restaurant, call 10 friends who will call 10 friends who will call 10 friends who will post MySpace bulletins that will be spread to all of literate humanity and no one will ever again come to that restaurant or that restaurant chain and it will be their fault and they will never get to work as an Esteemed Restaurant Manager ever again. They might even be drawn and quartered.
Restaurant Managers are idiots. If you are reading this and are a Restaurant Manager, then you probably don't even get it. And if you do, just accept it or else I'll tell everyone not to come to your restaurant. And I have like 200 friends, some of whom I actually know, and they will tell all their friends, some of whom they actually know.
Did you hear that? The manager just evacuated his bowels.
I'm telling you. Idiots. Spineless idiots. And to think I tossed their salads. Yeah, I got to re-learn spanish from all the underpaid line cooks and dishwashers, but I'm not sure it was worth it.
From all of my experiences working and eating in restaurants, springs the concept of My Restaurant. Now, as a result of the numerous tangents I tend to occasionally drift upon, I will give you one juicy nugget about My Restaurant and conclude this portion of what will undoubtedly become many different parts you will groan upon reading. In short, this is getting long and you want to be done.
Moving Walkway.
My Restaurant's main floor - discounting the bar area and VIP section I just decided I will have - will be shaped somewhat semi-circular. Ish. Imagine the outline of a horseshoe, if you will. In the middle of this horseshoe will be a moving walkway. Starting at the door, circling around the restaurant, and ending at the door again. It will not meet itself, but be separate at beginning and end. Every chair will have wheels. There will be no booths. So for all you people who come into the restaurant and request a booth, can we have a booth, we'd rather have a booth, what about that booth, that booth is empty, get the salad tosser to clean off that booth so we can sit in a booth, I will gladly inform you that we do not have any booths. When you make a face or comment regarding My Restaurant's lack of booth seating, I will kindly suggest you venture on down the road to Applebee's where you can also eat good in the neighborhood with the possibility of food poisoning which suits me fine. I can say that because I got food poisoning from Applebee's once. Horrible weekend. When you shift gears and decide our seating is fine, you guess, then I will kindly suggest the whole Applebee's thing once more because I have already decided you are not worthy of My Restaurant.
Right. Tangents.
This whole Moving Walkway idea stems from me getting so full at restaurants sometimes that I do not even want to get up and walk to my car. So, when you are finished the meal you simply roll yourself onto the walkway, which takes you to the front door. If you chose our valet parking - My Restaurant will feature optional valet parking, by the way - then you can notify your Server after paying and they will in turn notify the Host that the Valet needs to pull up your vehicle.
Tell me that would not kick scrotum. You would have to walk all of 10 feet at the most.
So ends Part 1 of My Restaurant. I will add Part 2 and so on soon. For a teaser, coming soon will be the Bathroom Arrangement, Bar Set Up, and Some Things You'll Find On Our Tables.
"Then how dare you write that as the opening to and title of your blog?!" you exclaim with some indignity and italics.
This topic lends itself to what My Restaurant will be if I ever gather the capital needed to own, run, and own a restaurant. These are things I have picked up from other establishments, things I do not like from other establishments and wish to improve on, and things I have figured out how to do after working in an establishment specializing in food service. I decided to go with Part 1 as part of the subject because I have not finished, in my own mind, My Restaurant, nor have I the patience to go through all the stuff I've thought about. So, I decided to do this in parts. Both to give me something else to write about when the fancy struck and to drive you, the occasional and/or random reader, mad. Mad in that you simply cannot wait to find out more about My Restaurant and it's inner workings and where to find one and what do you serve and do you validate? No on the last one, sorry.
Brief History Lesson: After graduating college, I worked for approximately 2 and a half years at WMDT-TV 47, a local station in Salisbury. By the time I left, I was the Weekend Director. The Head Director, if you will, was not going to be leaving anytime soon (or so it seemed), so my journey up the ladder was temporarily stunted. I could achieve no more at this time. So, I left for greener pastures and moved back to the hustle and bustle that Columbia, MD had become. After spending roughly 4 months not getting another job and blowing my savings by attending festivites at the local pubs 6 nights a week, I found myself needing some sort of monetary supplement for my already lavish lifestyle. I had heard that Pimping Ain't Easy, so I lowered my bar and went for the easy job. Which, it turned out, was working the salad station at the local Uno's restaurant in Ellicott City. I became a Salad Tosser. ---Insert I prefer syrup joke here--- The job was awful. I then moved to being a Host, and eventually a Server. Not a Waiter or Waitress (oh how I longed for that title), but a Server. That's what they're called now. P.C. and all.
In my time there I found that I did not like my time there. I was good at it, as I am at all things on the planet, but it was not for me. Something about pandering to a Vulgar Man Of Ill Repute when his well-done steak takes the exact amount of time that a well-done steak takes to prepare but he thinks it should come out quicker and makes his point known with vivid comparisons of yourself to a Chimpanzee performing the duties of a common restaurant server that really sticks in my craw. Then, when the VMOIR does not accept your well-spoken and pleasantly relayed explanation as to why his meal is not yet being consumed by him, the Manager comes over to Straighten Everything Out. Which means either the VMOIR will receive a free meal or his meal will be on the house.
"But why would he do that? That doesn't make sense," you state in a bewildered and again italicized manner.
Correct. That does not make sense. You see, Restaurant Managers firmly believe that if you do not immediately bend over to a customer (even if that customer is completely out of line and they know it), said customer will immediately leave the restaurant, call 10 friends who will call 10 friends who will call 10 friends who will post MySpace bulletins that will be spread to all of literate humanity and no one will ever again come to that restaurant or that restaurant chain and it will be their fault and they will never get to work as an Esteemed Restaurant Manager ever again. They might even be drawn and quartered.
Restaurant Managers are idiots. If you are reading this and are a Restaurant Manager, then you probably don't even get it. And if you do, just accept it or else I'll tell everyone not to come to your restaurant. And I have like 200 friends, some of whom I actually know, and they will tell all their friends, some of whom they actually know.
Did you hear that? The manager just evacuated his bowels.
I'm telling you. Idiots. Spineless idiots. And to think I tossed their salads. Yeah, I got to re-learn spanish from all the underpaid line cooks and dishwashers, but I'm not sure it was worth it.
From all of my experiences working and eating in restaurants, springs the concept of My Restaurant. Now, as a result of the numerous tangents I tend to occasionally drift upon, I will give you one juicy nugget about My Restaurant and conclude this portion of what will undoubtedly become many different parts you will groan upon reading. In short, this is getting long and you want to be done.
Moving Walkway.
My Restaurant's main floor - discounting the bar area and VIP section I just decided I will have - will be shaped somewhat semi-circular. Ish. Imagine the outline of a horseshoe, if you will. In the middle of this horseshoe will be a moving walkway. Starting at the door, circling around the restaurant, and ending at the door again. It will not meet itself, but be separate at beginning and end. Every chair will have wheels. There will be no booths. So for all you people who come into the restaurant and request a booth, can we have a booth, we'd rather have a booth, what about that booth, that booth is empty, get the salad tosser to clean off that booth so we can sit in a booth, I will gladly inform you that we do not have any booths. When you make a face or comment regarding My Restaurant's lack of booth seating, I will kindly suggest you venture on down the road to Applebee's where you can also eat good in the neighborhood with the possibility of food poisoning which suits me fine. I can say that because I got food poisoning from Applebee's once. Horrible weekend. When you shift gears and decide our seating is fine, you guess, then I will kindly suggest the whole Applebee's thing once more because I have already decided you are not worthy of My Restaurant.
Right. Tangents.
This whole Moving Walkway idea stems from me getting so full at restaurants sometimes that I do not even want to get up and walk to my car. So, when you are finished the meal you simply roll yourself onto the walkway, which takes you to the front door. If you chose our valet parking - My Restaurant will feature optional valet parking, by the way - then you can notify your Server after paying and they will in turn notify the Host that the Valet needs to pull up your vehicle.
Tell me that would not kick scrotum. You would have to walk all of 10 feet at the most.
So ends Part 1 of My Restaurant. I will add Part 2 and so on soon. For a teaser, coming soon will be the Bathroom Arrangement, Bar Set Up, and Some Things You'll Find On Our Tables.
to be continued...
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