Memories of working at a Long Island Catering Hall

-It was like working in a hotel: 4 dining rooms, 2 kitchens, 2 cocktail rooms, a lounge, 2 lobbies, 4 bridal suites, the “catacombs” sub-basements, many (some hidden) corridors, and the loading dock.  
-Lots of mischievous behavior by staff when any of those were empty.

-Sous Chef Bladimir and his seafood domain.

-Executive Chef, Dave, hollering, “All hands on deck!  All hands on deck!”

-Chef Rosario’s sauce station that looked like an herbal treatment center.

-The self-playing grand piano in the lobby, performing snappy showtunes. 
-The sweltering doorman in his red coat and hat.
-Andrea, my mature-aged “fag hag” bridal attendant, with her many nicknames: Shop Steward, Bitty, Little One, Bitch, Ken’s wife, et cetera.

-Her expressions: “Blow it out your ass!”  “This is me caring.”  “I’m just not feeling it, today, okay!”  “Just leave me alone or I'll grab you!”  “I used to be Betty Crocker.  Now, I’m just a whore.”  “Hello, my name is Andrea, and I’ll be your waitress.  If you don’t see me much today, it’s because I’ll be drinking in the back.”  

-The way I said “Yes, dear” to whatever she asked—making her laugh.

-"Sopranos wannabe" manager Sal’s vocal imitations of everyone. 

-His dialing my cellphone to play my gentlemanly Voicemail greetings for everyone to hear on speakerphone. 

-Being called Sir Ken or Mr. Ken.

-Bartenders who always claimed that they didn’t make enough tips.

-How none of them gave Andrea a hard time, lest she leap over the bar and strangle them.

-General Manager, Mike Closs, running around grabbing staff from other rooms, or taking people who passed by and sending them “for five minutes” into the frenzied set-up in another room.

-Bus boys, bar backs, bar tenders, waiters, captains, general managers, hostesses, bathroom attendants, dishwashers, and mâitre d’s, all working to move tables, put chairs out, align utensils, pick up trash, relocate tables, set up the dais, ignite candles, carry floral centerpieces, mop up spills, fill water glasses, fold napkins, remove kitchen carts, carry ice sculptures, and direct DJs, bands, photographers, and florists.

  

-The way Affair Coordinator, Linda, let photographers set up all of their tripods, and then tell them that they couldn’t set them up where they had.

-Walter, a bodybuilding Captain, who gave an air of supreme, quiet command.

-Michael Closs “holding everything together”: accommodating vacation requests, arranging preferred staffs to work together, coupling teams of waiters, hiring/dismissing, training, settling arguments, being the interface with DJs and florists, yelling into his Walkie Talkie, greeting VIPs, settling paycheck disputes, and breaking up drunken behavior.

-Linda switching from her “peaches and cream” mode to “If you mess with me, I’ll grab your balls.”

-Mike Closs walking around with his clipboard, getting takers for the ongoing lotteries.

-The way that the elderly owner, Nick Leone, commanded silence by merely entering the room (even the hectic kitchen).

-His reputation of burning down small businesses along Jericho Turnpike (which he owned both sides of the street) to force tenants out, so he could build new establishments.

-The two wood-burning fireplaces and the two gas-fed fireplaces.

-Making “short” espressos for Rosario “in warmed cups” to get my clients' food prepared faster.

-How bridal parties arrived at the same time as the staff, instead of the hour or so later (when they were supposed to), yet expected to be pampered immediately.

-The inevitable bitchy Bridezilla or bridesmaid or the noveau riche parents of the bride.

-The inevitable “Brooklyn tough guys/class clowns” among the Ushers who acted like they were at the Super Bowl, instead of a wedding.

-Mike coming to find me on Saturday night to offer me our “traditional” Toasted Almond digestif.

-Having Cosmopolitans with Andrea at any convenient time.

-Chef Dave grumbling about me using up all the espresso pods for my Iced Coffee productions.

-Having Long Island Iced Teas with a waiter named Chris who was seemingly bi-curious.

-The discreet way that he indicated to me that he was thirsty (I wish he had been interested in signaling for other things).

-Having cognac with Andrea during dessert time.

-Andrea saying to the chefs, “I’m gonna quit from this place!”

-Their reply, “Go ahead already!  You’ve been saying that for 8 years and you still haven’t left.”  Her rebuttal, “You’d miss me.”  Rosario’s answer, “Don’t let that stop you.”

-The buttery-soft chateaubriand: my favorite dinner choice.

-Very sexy brothers, Jean-Pierre, Johan, and Christian, competing for the same girl(s).

-Whenever an "alumni" returned to visit, how the entire building's staff accumulated to say Hi to their old friend.

-The way Mike tried to keep incompetent waiters far away so they wouldn't anger Chef Dave. 

-Quibbles between mâitre d’s and band leaders/DJs about when to stop the music.

-As a mâitre d’, how I’d go after a band/DJ to make sure they tipped the server who gave them their food.

-Trying to help Andrea lug heavy suitcases upstairs for the bridal party (who came as if they were staying for a vacation).

-Hugo, dancing liking a good-natured idiot, with a huge hat and oversized sunglasses that had been handed out by a DJ.

-Athletic Captain, Joe Catone’s reliable nature (and nice calves)… and his acceptance if he had to act as a waiter. 

-The way Walter hated being temporarily “demoted” to anything under his rank.

-Ian, the bar back, who played an eclectic variety of music in the Liquor Room: Mozart, Sinatra, heavy metal, and movie soundtracks.

-How a lot of the bartenders who were volunteer fireman regaled the staff with “stories of conquest”.

-Being tested by the girls to notice their new haircuts, makeup, fingernail polish, and sun tans (MacKenny, Greta, Mari, Diana, Janine, Stephanie, and Danielle). 

-Being complimented about how clean I kept my car (both old Pontiacs, then the Maxima GLE, then the Lincoln LS).

-Giving co-workers rides home after work—mostly Sabrina, Janine, Lu, and Andrea (because I was a safe non-predatory gay guy).

-With four dinner plates in my hands, verbally showing a new busboy how to scoop up and then arrange the vegetables on my plates.

-Having to find the bride and groom (usually taken away by a persistent photographer) because we couldn’t make our "dinner presentation" without them.

-The way folks imitated the way I said, “Hi”, “That’s silly”, “Really?”, “Absolutely”, and “Cocktails?”

-Walter’s singsong catch-phrase for me, “What’s the frequency, Kenneth?”

-Manager, Sal’s way of over-accentuating “good English” and saying, “Would you like to have a cocktail, Kenneth?”

-The way Andrea got distracted seeing a bottle of Hennessy or Remy Martin and saying “Ooo, look.  Cordials!  I’ll have to have some.” 

-Calming the mother of the bride, as a broken water main above the lobby caused hysteria.

-Keeping folks dry, calling for help, moving the piano, and damning the stairwells.

-Having everything “good as new” ten minutes before the bride’s chapel ceremony!

-Winning the contract of a bride-to-be, who attended the party as a guest and witnessed our abilities.

-Management’s trust in me.

-Having new employees find out who I was from their co-workers and then go out of their way to be friendly with me.

-Being an intermediary between Mike’s rationale and a waiter’s understanding.

-How sweet Louisa was, improving everyone’s moods.

-Kitchen steward, Aldo, singing opera throughout the building and serenading the staff.

-The way the kitchen staff respected the older bathroom attendant, when she arrived for a bite to eat.

-Being able to deal with people who didn’t like me (an occasional circumstance).

-Dinner carts—from different parties—colliding or having a traffic jam in the back of the kitchen.

-Times when the service elevator would break down.

-Times when the air conditioners failed in the middle of summer (something that happens throughout NY, even now).

-Expecting the unexpected: flash rainstorms, a limousine that couldn't make the turn through the gate, a hotel bus that left without the bride and groom, a parking valet accident, the wrong flowers being delivered, the DJ blowing a fuse, and waiters catching on fire from the flambé. 

-The challenge of keeping brides from seeing one another in the building.

-Men never finding the Men’s Lavatories

-Rosario bringing in home-grown figs for me.

-People saying “I love Ken!”  (I guess I’m a nice person).

-Refraining from using the employee restrooms in favor of the more suitable men’s rooms.

-Noticing that money does not buy "good breeding".

-Noticing how people earn their stereotypes consistently.

-Noticing a difference between types of people and their tips.

-The time that a disgruntled dishwasher threw water in my face and the GM saw it and swooped in—telling everyone to stop what they were doing and then threatening to fire anyone who did something like that to me again.  I still remember his words “He’s the nicest guy that works here!  I don’t care what happened: I don’t think he’d ever give you a good enough reason to do that!”

-The fact that I never told others about that situation, but people still knew.

-The way managers would say, “But the owners like you.  They’d do it for you, if you ask.”

-Learning that just because I do all I can to help someone succeed doesn’t mean that they will actually succeed.

-Proudly not requiring supervision.

-The way Al would approach a crisis and look around, nodding his head (unconcerned about what was going on), and then he’d tell someone else to take care of it.

-Being with Mike during an interview and being asked to offer how I “read” the person.

-Keith, the bar back, and his polished manicure—despite his labor-intensive job.

-Seeing the smile on someone’s face, who was promoted from B waiter to A waiter, or from Second busboy to First busboy.

-Observing a mishap while serving dinner, and hearing Dave say angrily, “It’s always her!  She doesn’t even know what building she’s in!”

-Hearing from competing school athletes about who won which games during the week.

-When manager, Mike Tennelli ordered an Easter specialty—Pizza Rustica—for me (at his expense) from Dortoni’s Bakery, to bring to my aunt's house for the holiday.

-The Seven Points of Service: water replenished, napkins folded, warm dinner rolls, clean table, tidy the place settings, chairs pushed in, and ashtrays empty (until smoking was legally banned).

-Baby lamb chops as an appetizer.  My favorites!  Delicious!

-Cocktail hours with strolling violinists, string quartets, harpists, chamber orchestras, and pianists.

-The various Tea Ceremonies, Cultural dances, Blessings, Bag pipes, Traditional toasts, Breaking of bread, throwing of dollars at the Greek bands, and smashing glasses.

-Getting blocked in by other cars in “employee parking” and having to yank waiters or busboys from their parties (ending later than mine) to move their vehicles.

-The eagerness in other guys to get behind the wheel of my car and move it for me.

-The $50 cash bonus for any employee receiving a thank-you letter from a guest.

-The $150 cash bonus for Employee of the Month.

-Reaching that point when I only worked the big parties and could guess who I’d be working with in advance.  (Other mâitre d’s wished that they had that certainty).

-Eventually having a “team” of people that I worked with.

-Folks apologizing if they worked with me, in place of a member of “the Elite Fleet”, much to my continuous astonishment.  ("I know you really like working with ____, but I’ll do the best job today that I can.")  

-Those folks feeling so wonderful when I complimented them on a job well done.

-Andrea chasing after the waiters from her daughter's high school who were trying to date her daughter.

-Learning about the behind-the-scenes, inner-workings of sales commissions, kick-backs from “house” bands and florists, and the politics of catering.

-During staff Christmas parties, where the chefs would cook us different foods, so it wouldn’t be the same things that we ate all year.

-How the owners lured/stole employees from other catering halls.

-When my own hair stylist showed up, having been hired for the night “to be in reserve” by the bridal party.  I asked him to keep my personal gossip a secret.

-Watching the Millennium unfold across the world on big-screen TVs during New Year’s.

-The wedding for rapper Ja-Rool.

-Hosting the local Republican Party and Democratic Party soirées, annually.

-The party honoring Senator Hilary Clinton, where I acted as her server.

-The morning parties, involving breakfast buffets, and what a change of pace they were.

-The way Andrea dragged me away from some nice-featured male employee whom I was too engrossed talking to.

-The Wednesday night Showcases, where potential clients met limousine companies, florists, photographers, DJs, and orchestras.

-Andrea—not liking a party—recklessly throwing their cookies/pastries into boxes for them to take home, saying, “Packed with love and tender care.  There!  There’s your f*cking cookies!”

Great and Terrible Customer Service

     There's quite a variance in levels of Customer Service around our city.
     At the Whole Foods near Lewis' apartment on the Upper West Side, I had a magnificent grocery shopping experience!  The greeter was courteous.  The woman at the bakery let me pick the perfect/most-powdered sfogliatelle ("lobster tail" Italian pastry).  She pulled the whole tray out to reach it for me.

     The hunky fellow giving out samples of Coconut Water admired the healthy contents of my basket and gave compliments on the 2 novelty sodas that I had.  Both were seasonally appropriate!

     Jared, the cheesemonger, was extremely helpful in selecting a new bleu cheese (to delight Lewis), an English aged cheddar, and an aged goat's cheese.  He proffered samples and offered to cut wedges of each to my desired width.  The young man at the Hot Prepared Food counter scooped up delectable spaghetti-squash for me, as well as charred Brussels Sprouts and a slice of kale/prosciutto pizza.  A fellow customer held the elevator for me, and while I meandered the less-exciting downstairs, all the shoppers were courteous.  

     Back upstairs, the barista at the coffee station swiftly concocted a chai latté!  So delicious!  Finally, I sauntered through the Ale Isle and carefully selected some organic hard ciders: wondrous autumnal mixtures.

     The cashier was pleasant and sociable, chatting about what my day consisted of, making sure I found everything (Incidentally, it reminds me--and is worth noting here--that when you're on the Check-out line at Trader Joe's, they have people that go along the line, asking if anybody needs anything or forgot anything.  And they'll go get whatever you need, while you're on line!).

Compare this with the two prior experiences in Chinatown:
1. At an eatery, Lewis and I were poured tea (customary) but also asked for water.  The waitress replied, "You have tea.  Drink tea!"  Like it was gonna kill her to make another trip for water!  Lewis cajoled another woman into begrudgingly giving us water.
2. At the cashier of Hong Kong Market, I paid and then asked for another plastic bag to "double-bag" my groceries.  She snapped at me, "You have bag.  Those are strong bags.  You don't need another one!"  Thankfully, Lewis--my knight in shiny armor--spoke to her in Mandarin and took more bags.