We are not fresh but ravaged from the weekend, dishevelled and exhausted.
Yet, as operators, we take stock of the weekend past, we check in with our team, check prep levels, count the kegs and breathe a sigh of relief that another weekend has past, we have all remained relatively unscathed, and the bank account looks a little healthier.
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I usually relish a Monday… not last week though. It made me stop and wonder why I do this. Why any of us do this. The stress, the frustration, the sadness, the exhaustion. Why do we put ourselves through this?
The day began with me accidentally setting my alarm half an hour later than intended. As such, not only was I scrabbling to throw some semblance of symmetrical eyeliner on but I didn’t have time to replenish my alarmingly depleted caffeine levels.
I think we can all agree, it was a terrible start. I then stabbed myself in the eye trying to put my contact lenses in. After that I looked like a panda that had been sobbing all night. Foreshadowing, perhaps.
Forgot to breathe
Then the vegetable delivery was late. My PAYE bill came out. I had to deal with an HR issue. A fridge started playing up.
You can see how my day is going already. To add to my stress levels, an Environmental Health Officer showed up in the middle of a fully booked lunch service. I’m fairly sure I forgot to breathe for about two hours. I could taste my blood pressure.
Fifteen arduous hours of work later I collapsed into bed and wondered why do I do this? Lying in a heap, with burns and cuts and aching feet, I questioned my life choices. I think every publican has had a day like this. We have all struggled and lamented at length.
But we wake up every morning and do it again. And again. And again. Gluttons for punishment perhaps? But also passionate, dedicated, obsessed, utterly in love with our industry. Hospitality is not for the faint of heart but it is astoundingly rewarding.
When I create a new dish for the menu – and it tastes as delicious as I had imagined – I am filled with pride; so much so I can be found doing a happy food dance. When a customer comes to the pass to tell me how special their meal was, I am so utterly grateful.
Amazing teams
I had an elderly couple who lived in the Middle East 30 years ago tell me how their lunch took them back to a time they cherished fondly. My falafel did that. A man sat in the garden hugged me and cried on my shoulder because my take on makmoura moved him so.
A group of the laddiest lads one could imagine came to my pass to tell me how it was the best meal they had ever eaten. To touch people so with the food I make is an honour that I am eternally grateful for.
When people walk into my premise and leave elated, or full, or joyous and in their (Queen of) Cups, I consider myself privileged and enormously thankful.
And our teams… our wonderful, chaotic, kind, funny, brilliant teams. The people we nurture and foster and watch grow. The family we make for ourselves. We show up every day because they show up for us.
We do this for the people we serve, for our teams, for us.
This is who it’s all for.
