I was all thumbs this week.
We reopened my restaurant. By the time the weekend was over, my staff and I had completed a litany of mortifying mistakes, including burning dozens of cinnamon rolls, breaking an espresso machine, and serving meat to a vegetarian. After 3 months of quarantine, our once seamless dining room dance around each other had turned into a series of accidental body checks and spilled mimosa flights. But the strangest part?
None of it was mortifying.
In fact, it was the opposite. We laughed a lot. We shook off what went wrong. Customers were (for the most part) understanding.
And we owe it all to a deadly virus.
Reader, as tragic as tragedy is, it certainly does have a way of forcing us to have perspective. After all: in a world that's hot with racial tension, political fury, and a raging pandemic, what's a few burned pastries here and there? Overall, I'm counting our restaurant reopening as a resounding success. Nobody got hurt, physically or mentally, and our outdoor seating area was a hit. Looking forward to a week of more of the same. Wishing you this same forced perspective; see you next Monday. -Em