Dear Al-Fresco diners,
I know you’re cold, I’m cold too. I know you’d rather be inside, I would too. I know it’s windy, my hair isn’t like this on purpose. I know you want to sit beside a heater- so does every other reservation on the book tonight. Believe me, whatever your grievance, I know.
Unfortunately, I’m not Jesus. I’m not prospero. I can’t make the rain stop or the sun shine brighter. I’m not someone with any power to speak of, in any capacity. I’m a tired, frozen, broke-as-fuck junior floor manager desperately trying to keep customers, colleagues and chefs happy all at once.
I will offer you tea and fetch you another blanket. I will continue to smile even though inside, I am screaming.
Yes, I will remove the service charge if ‘the cold ruined the experience‘. It will break my heart to do so- having just watched the waitress who’s struggling to make ends meet, after a year of surviving on 80% of minimum wage- move mountains all night to try to keep you warm, but I will do it.
There’s very little I will not do to try to make sure you have a nice night. But controlling the weather is beyond my capabilities. Alas. Try not to hold me personally responsible for the state of affairs in the sky.
I’m sorry to have to say it, especially as it goes against all of my tight lipped hospitality instincts, but if you are that sensitive to the cold, if you knew the weather would be bad tonight (Which you did. Because I called you. To warn you. For this exact reason.) then perhaps you should have stayed at home. Ordered a takeaway. With a blanket. In the warm. God knows I’d love to be on the sofa watching gogglebox right now! It’s less than a week before you can come inside again. I’m looking forward to it every bit as much as you are. More.
Why not just wait?
And if you do want to come, weather be damned. Good for you! But come prepared. Bring an extra layer or five. Bring a plastic poncho, I promise not to laugh. And please. PLEASE. Bring some compassion. We’re doing our best.