DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight and its characters, only the plot.
WARNING: Language and adult themes in this work!
Confessions of a Maître d'
By Clarissa Frey
Chapter One
It was another busy night. The restaurant was crowded and noisy and the kitchen was preparing food almost as fast as we were bringing the orders in. The customers waited for their food, talking and drinking as they celebrated one thing or another.
As maître d' of The Red Door, it was my job to look after the customers and ensure my staff were doing what they were assigned to do. It was an endless cycle- customers would enter, I would greet them and assign them a waiter or waitress who would look after them, they would be taken to their table and orders taken, they would have their meal and eventually leave. Occasionally time would call that I wait the tables myself as well as meet and greet and it was times like that that I would hate and love my job- both at the same time.
This one particular evening, there were a large booking- thirty-five people- a task I was able to tackle without batting an eyelid; but it meant that tempers were high due to being short of staff and more than once, I had to send one of my workers away for a break due to stress and the occasional rude customer.
Serving a table of four- all of whom were regulars, all of whom I adored- they always had praise for the workplace and where there was a negative experience, there was always constructive criticism included in the complaint. The chefs felt it a privilege to cook for such customers and as maître d', I was more than happy to serve them.
"What would you recommend for us to eat tonight, Heidi? For four courses please."
I was asked after I had finished detailing the specials on the board this evening. After a short pause to think, I told them my preferences, if I were to order- a mixture of choices both from the specials menu and the everyday, a la carte menu.
"That sounds delicious, Heidi- could we order that? For the four of us?"
I smiled and nodded writing my order on the docket.
"Any beverages served from the bar, tonight madam?"
A Merlot was ordered- a wine I would not have drunk with my choice of dishes- but it was the customers wish. Thanking them for their time, I headed towards the kitchen- which was when I spotted trouble at table 29. One of my newest waitresses, stood as a customer waved his hands at her- I didn't like this- approaching the table, I put my hand on Angela's shoulder. The look she gave me, as if I were her savior indicated that the conversation between the two of them had not been going well.
"Who are you?"
I was asked, rather rudely by the man. I looked at him and he moved backwards in his seat- yes, I was not a woman to be trifled with.
"Heidi Lawson, maître d'. Is there a problem that I can help you with?"
The customer shoved his plate- a warm roasted vegetable salad in my hands.
"This salad is hot"
He complained. Angela looked at me, exasperated- clearly she had tried to explain that a warm salad was defined as a salad that contained hot ingredients- which were the roasted vegetables in this instance.
"This girl here told me that it was warm because of the vegetables"
He jerked his thumb at Angela and she moved slightly behind me. I turned to Angela
"Can you please monitor the front door, I will finish here"
I told her. She nodded and walked away, the customer turned his attention onto me.
"You should fire that girl; she's incompetent in all matters of food"
He remarked to me. I frowned at him.
"I do not appreciate you saying such things about my staff. As Angela explained to you, the plate is warm because it is a warm salad- that is, the salad contains one or more ingredients that are hot- in this case it is the roasted vegetables"
I told the customer. I was beginning to become impatient with this man, but I persevered, chanting the mantra of 'the customer is always right, be nice to the customer' in my head.
"If you are not satisfied, you are more than welcome to order a replacement starter course on the house"
I told him. Still, it was evident that he was not happy.
"I want this, but its hot, I want a salad not a pity excuse for a plate of roast vegetables"
He told me. I resisted the urge to sigh and walk away from obviously a man who thought he knew all things food…and obviously hadn't read the menu.
"And another thing, your service has been poor all night- we had to wait to be seated and then you gave us that incompetent bitch and now this- you shouldn't be able to call yourself maître d', you are obviously incompetent yourself"
The man sneered and as if to further add insult to injury, threw the plate on the table. It clattered on the glass table top, the juices splashing all over my white blouse. He smirked up at me- as if satisfied at what he had done and, smiling politely, I picked up the plates of vegetables and planted it firmly into his face. He spluttered with surprise and anger
"I'm going to have you shut down!"
He roared, but I wasn't threatened. By now almost the entire restaurant was watching this little fight. Not to be disheartened, I picked up his full wine glass of red and tipped it down his shirt.
"Have fun removing the stains, red wine is almost impossible to get out. Now leave you bastard"
I yelled at him. The customer rushed from the table, heading for the exit, humiliated to the roar of applause.
Stop. Okay. So that didn't really happen- I never slammed a plate of vegetable salad in this man's face. It was all my imagination- that was how I coped, by imagining scenarios with the really bad customers who liked to pick fights just because they could. No, instead, I picked up his plate.
"I will have to ask you to leave- you are disturbing the other customers"
I told him curtly. The customer looked at me, surprised and a little bit insulted.
"You cannot just ask me to leave"
He spluttered. I began to clear his table, so the four customers who were waiting to sit down could as soon as the bastard had left.
"On the contrary, I can and if you do not leave these premises, I will call the authorities and have you escorted and charged with trespassing"
The man thankfully left without another word and I breathed a sigh of relief- I could get on with my job now with relative ease- I hoped. I went to the front counter, where Angela was folding cutlery into the cloth serviettes.
"Heidi, I'm sorry, I tried to deal with it but then he started insulting me and-"
I stopped Angela's tirade by holding up my hand; the girl worried to much- I knew how much she needed the job and it was because of that that she performed her duties with so much effort, she deserved the money that I had finally succeeded in winning for her when everyone's pay rise came through a couple of months.
"Angela, you need to learn how to deal with customers like that man. I've been called worse things in my times when I was working in bars. Women in this industry- it's hard, but you eventually learn to deal with it and vent it through other means"
Angela nodded and I gestured over to the waiting customers.
"They will need to seated at table twenty-nine; it has just been cleared and set for four"
I instructed her. After waiting for her to smile at me- I resumed what Angela had been doing previously- rolling the cutlery up like spring rolls. Thankfully, there were no large hiccoughs or customers making mountain out of mole hills. I was able to leave work at eleven thirty PM- early for my standards.
The first thing I did was to unearth my diary and write the incident on a blank page- it was my way of venting. One waiter I had worked with used angry sex with his partner- my version of venting was considered quite tame. I had had the book for almost the entire of my career and by god did it hold some bad memories- it also held the little scenarios I imagined doing to the offender.
Call it a hate book of sorts, if you will. But it did its job and one day, I hoped to be able to look back on everything I had written in it over the years and laugh at it all. When I emerged from the bathroom after having a shower, I was surprised to find my roommate, Rosalie standing in the kitchen. Usually I heard her come home always in the early hours of the morning whenever she wasn't studying fashion- which was quite a lot.
"Heidi, you're home!"
Rose said to me, surprised to see me, I raised one eyebrow as I toweled my dripping, long hair.
"Home? Why is the infamous partygoer Rosalie home on this fine evening?"
I answered her with a question. Rose huffed and turned back to the stove- the contents bubbling away.
"Truth be told, I was absolutely exhausted after this afternoon's classes, so I came home but then I couldn't sleep so here I am, making soup. Did you eat tonight?"
I was surprised at Rose's explanation- something was up; whilst we hardly saw each other because of my working six nights a week or because of Rose's hectic social life, we still managed to look after each other. Rose would leave food for me in the fridge and I would clean the two bedroom apartment that we shared. All things aside, I was glad to have her home one night, it would give us the chance to hang out just that little bit before I would bite the bullet and go to bed.
"So, soup and a movie?"
I nodded, liking the idea and wandered back into my room to pull on a sweatshirt and the bike pants that I slept in. When I came out of my room, I found Rose sitting on the couch holding two large bowls and the opening credits to…a horror movie.
Now that was a change.
"No chick flicks tonight, Rose?"
I asked her, the sarcasm heavy in my voice as I curled up next to her and she handed me my soup bowl. Rose didn't reply, because either she had yet to learn that I liked watching Japanese horror movies which nearly always opened with someone getting their head lopped off- and she cringed onto my shoulder. In the end, I changed the movie because as it progressed, her face became paler and paler- I didn't really want her hurling everywhere. We fell asleep on the couch together, both extremely tired from our day.
Walking into work the next day after oversleeping, I found one of our chefs serving up vast quantities of food. He grinned at me and handed me a plate. I looked down at it- it looked like Chilli Con Carne; an absolute favorite of mine.
"Here you go, Heidi- eat up"
I looked at the food and then back up at Demetri. He gestured at the plate for me to eat. Picking up the spoon, I ate a spoonful- the spiciness was perfect, I could've eaten it for the rest of my life- at the expense of my liver and kidneys of course.
"That's going on the new menu, what do you think of it?"
In response, I just kept eating the contents savoring the spiciness.
"And, I think it's a hit with Heidi!"
Demetri crowed, the others that were sitting down at one of the larger tables- rolled their eyes and resumed eating.
"You make that sound like it's a big deal"
The owner and the big boss told Demetri. I shrugged as I sat down and finished eating.
"Heidi, here's bookings for tonight- do you want to assign tables now?"
I looked up and nodded at the question and I stood to grab the map that detailed where all the tables were. As I started assigning reservation names to tables according to the number of people that were attending and what time they were due to arrive. One name stuck out at me though…I wasn't sure why, but I assigned myself to their table just in case.
The afternoon passed quickly- in which we were briefed with the new menu change and the details for the transition from old to new. I had my bets on which of my staff would get confused when informing customers, it would be interesting- seeing as only three of my staff, including me had been around for the last menu change.
At 5PM, I changed into my uniform of sorts- a knee length pencil skirt, white blouse complete with a belt and low heeled shoes- my hair stayed pinned in its bun on top of my head and I applied minimal makeup- as I walked to the front of the restaurant, I pinned my name badge to my shirt.
"Good evening, welcome to The Red Door, do you have a reservation?"