Saturday night. I still have a noisy dining room, but it has settled down enough to let my staff take it from here. And now is the time of week I cherish. My finish line is crossed. I’ve taken my apron off, which is the signal to the Beer Pastor to preach me her sermon, except she’s sick tonight, so I’ll have to settle for the interim.
Here is where I get to review the day and ultimately, the week, and relish the fruit of our labors. A gentleman stopped by the kitchen to tell us that the Smoked Meatloaf was better than his grandmother’s, and another told us that was the best stuffing she had ever eaten. I do not take these lightly, because customers don’t usually make that kind of effort to make a flippant comment. No, I take them very, very seriously.
I would not have this kind of restaurant if I didn’t.
There is an old saying that goes like this: A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold. This is why I tell my staff from time to time to remember where they work. I remind them they work at bread&cup, because the name has become synonymous with good food and good pleasure. We are earning our sales, but in doing so, we are also earning our name, which has superior worth.
I am not arrogant to agree that our stuffing was the best the woman had ever eaten, because she is going to come back soon and bring more friends with her and come expecting to find the same level of quality. If I don’t take her seriously, I fail to recognize what I possess. My work suffers, and so does her experience.
I know I can’t bat 1.000. I’m sure I had my share of disgruntled customers tonight, when I shamefully had to admit we were out of apple butter, but I will have to figure out why that happened and work just as hard to see that it doesn’t happen again. A good name understands this. A fool does not.