Table for two

I have always been skeptical of people. Always assumed that they were hiding something, pretending to be someone or distracting from what they actually are. Working in business that is hospitality is a constant reminder of the fact that nothing is what it seems. The typical restaurant is just a smaller version of all of those escapes created and beautifully marketed by Disney.

The seats, the floor plan, the characters and costumes. The way the lights hit certain areas and cast showdows on others. The first person you see, the last person you remember talking to. It's all part of the beautiful veneer of dining out.

Expensive wine, pretty girls, and steak with all the trimmings. Comfortable chairs, forgiving lighting and a font that makes you think you understand what the menu is offering. The bartenders pretend to give a damn about who you are waiting for, what you are going through and your idea of the perfect cocktail. The hostess pretends that she cares about where you want to sit, who is joining the party soon and that you'd rather 'hold on' to your jacket; not check it.

Your waiter hates you. Trust me. You can make friends with them, tell them that they remind them of your son/nephew/grandchild... it doesn't matter. They know what you are here for, and you are just buttering them up. Thankfully, this approach goes both ways. I let you believe I am the least bit concerned about your fake allergies when I know you are just watching your weight and making a bigger deal about it. I play along with the fact that you are your fourth highball, bottle of shiraz on the way... after all, you deserve it. I allow you to think I am actually taking care of you, when we both know it's an illusion. I put my two cents in, and expect twenty percent in return.