We get off to a poor start. The couple stands impatiently at the door. “I just need to check to see if there’s anyone on the wait list,” I say. The woman glares at me. I drop a pen. The hostess arrives to save me.
“These people are waiting to be seated,” I say, and rush off to busy myself making coffees or waters or picking up a napkin that has fallen on the floor. Anything to get away from the heavily mouth-breathing man and the woman with the accusatory stare.