Three years and nine months. That’s how long it took.
Before my crew deteriorated to such a serious state of meltdown that I had to call my husband and beg him to leave work (the work that pays our bills, which is more than can be said for the Hot Flash Café) and come to the restaurant and bail my ass out of trouble. Because no one…NO ONE else would work.
Out of a crew of ten, there was only one other hearty soul ready and/or willing to run that restaurant with me today.
Even in the bad old days—those days when the people I bought with the restaurant and those I hired in ill-advised desperation nearly drove me to distraction with their dramas, no-shows, hospital emergencies and hangovers—I was never faced with the prospect of opening the restaurant too understaffed to function. Today, I had a crew of me…and a cashier who has worked for me for less than two months. And a party of 15 scheduled for lunch.
Was it just the perfect storm? Chef sick, morning counter girl in Hawaii, relief cook out indefinitely with surgery that didn’t take. Everyone else with appointments and classes and anything at all that wasn’t work. A one-in-a-million convergence of unlikely forces pulling everyone away from the restaurant at once.
Maybe.
But really. In almost four years, one would think that I could have at the very least accomplished assembling a staff of which I was not the main and too often the only functional component.
Tonight I just feel like a colossal failure.
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3 comments:
This was the perfect storm. There were circumstances beyond your control, and it was a very rough day, but not a failure. Hang tough.
What Cynthia said. Electronics hugs and candles in the window. Sorry I can't do more.
Oh my goodness, a failure is not measured by one day of other people's distractions and misfortune, none of which, it sounds, were your responsibility. And its ok now and then to lean on your partner... that's what they are there for.
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