Restaurant Hostess

Once I grow up, I’m going to be a restaurant hostess. My closet will be full of slinky black dresses and pants nice enough to be business appropriate but tight enough to be sexy. I will scoff at the idea that all hosts are snobby and stupid, but secretly take pride in the fact that they are usually thin and attractive.

My phone voice will be absolute perfection. Soft yet commanding, I will make reservations in a caring and efficient manner.

“Thank you for calling SPICE this is Jackie how may I help you,” I will say.

My head will turn ever so delicately as I answer the phone, and my face will take on an understanding expression as I listen along and nod. These people will go on and on about how delicious the food is, and can they please have that one famous table overlooking the city? I will grow bored by this question, as every guest asks for that table. It will be featured in dining magazines and websites, where it is deemed the epitome of a flawless dining experience. My free hand will tap the polished mahogany host stand as I listen to these guests plead for it. I will become an expert at kindly refusing their requests.

“I apologize Mr. Smith,” I will smile, “but that table has already been requested NUMEROUS times tonight.”

By emphasizing the word numerous to Mr. Smith, I will be letting him know he is ridiculous to call a few hours ahead and expect to procure that table. But, the gentle tone in which I relay this information will make him think I genuinely feel bad.

When making reservations, I will type information without looking at the keypad. Not only will I have memorized every letter, but I will type numbers without looking, just like a bank teller! This skill will make me an excellent multi-tasker. When a customer walks in while I am typing out a caller’s reservation, I will still be able to acknowledge them. I will look up from my computer to smile and give a slight wave. “So sorry,” I will mouth.

As a restaurant hostess, I will understand that my number Uno duty is to make people feel welcome. When customers walk into the restaurant, I will always greet them first, and only then ask them if they have a table reserved. I will find it tacky when other employees blurt out, “Do you have a reservation,” even before they get through the door! MY sentence order will make people feel like they are wanted and accepted at SPICE, even if they do not have a reservation. If these guests (and I will consider them all guests, even those silly enough to just walk in) do not have a table reserved, I will twist my face in a sympathetic manner.

“I’m so VERY sorry,” I will say, “but we don’t have any tables available for AT LEAST two hours.” Perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting at our bar?”

If customers must wait for their tables in the lobby, I will make them feel as comfortable as possible. I will make idle chat with them, saying things like, “How about that weather we’re having?” or “What did you do today?” As if I really cared. If they are only men, I will lean over my host stand slightly but suggestively, and make sure to chuckle at all of their jokes. When women have to wait, I will compliment them on their jewelry, or the pretty ruffles lining the collars of their cardigans. I will even compliment their black leather boots, even though it seems every other woman that night will be wearing them.

These people waiting for the tables will appreciate the effort I put into talking to them, and find me to be very professional. “Boy, I never realized how hard that job could be,” Someone will say, watching me greeting guests AND answering phones. “Too clever for a host,” another person will add. The others in their party will agree. “Quite beautiful as well,” someone else will say.

Of course, I will not always be a model employee. As a restaurant hostess, I will be extremely passive aggressive. When I find a customer to be especially annoying, I will cheerfully show them to the table looking right into the bright but messy kitchen. When a server complains to me that they have too little tables, or too many, I will make sure they get the next party of foreigners.

“They don’t speak a lick of English, but I’m pretty sure they said something about ordering a bottle of Dom in German,” I’ll whisper. ”I bet they’re great tippers.”

Many things will fuel this bitterness. I will hate the way that Mr. Smith feels the need to spell his last name for me as he checks in. I will hate the way that some women look me up and down when they walk in, considering my outfit and stance. I will hate that when I say “Hello” to some people, they will not have the courtesy to say it back. I will hate the way that people talk to me like a ten-year old child, all the while throwing fits about their inability to attain that one coveted table. These things will piss me off. But, I will hold that in and smile. And I will continue to smile, because I will be a true professional.