Maitre d’Diaries: Hospitality in the Time of Coronavirus

The First Two Weeks

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

I woke up realizing it was my dead Dad’s birthday. It hit me so hard I didn’t know how I was going to put on a smiley face at work. Working the front of the house in a restaurant requires you to be “on” and pleasant every day. To check your personal problems at the door. I’d done it many times before, but today I wondered if I’d be able to get out of my own misery enough to show up for the staff and the guests. 

Before long I forgot about my dead Dad. While we were setting up the dining room one of the servers seemed really anxious and was starting to get other people worked up. As a maitre d’ I set the tone (or “the welcome”) at the door and monitor the overall energy in the room. Then I try to “maitre d’ massage” anyone who needs it. I’m a sort of self-appointed morale officer. When I asked the server if he was okay (not a question I ask lightly or as a greeting) he said the world was falling apart and he wasn’t going to be okay for a very long time. He began rambling off details about 2008 and about how hard the restaurant industry was about to be hit. 

I started having mild flashbacks to the post-911 era when I was working as a maître d’ in the Time Square area. After a few days of caring for guests who still hadn’t been able to find their loved ones, and giving philosophical pep talks to the staff at premeal, I became acutely aware of the huge role that hospitality can play in maintaining–or if you will restoring–our culture and our community in times of crisis. 

But what seems to be coming is not 911. A few stunned days after 911 everyone flooded bars and restaurants. They wanted to get out of their houses, away from the news, see their people, and have a drink. That’s what kicked off the cocktail renaissance. Hard liquor for hard times. Now people are scared to be together. And drinking is bad for the immune system. The customers are talking about whether it’s more important to live life while they can, or to hunker down and self-isolate. Is the moral imperative to carry on in the face of fear, or is the responsible thing to stop going out? 

This is coming at a time when much of the hospitality industry was trying to reestablish its footing in the increasingly casual, food and grocery delivery culture, and many of us have been asking for over a year now, “What is the future of fine dining?” 

For restaurants, caterers and event planners this is a fast hard hit. People stop going out, people cancel events, people cancel trips. We all know that the tourism, hotel, and hospitality business is among the hardest hit–at least initially. But what can we do? Some inspiring articles have been written about how we can and should help Chinatown immediately. We have to keep supporting the businesses we care about or they simply will not make it. But like our customers, I, too, am wondering: should I stop working now, or should I just wait until someone tells me to stop? 

I decided I had to give the dining room staff a pep talk before service or “the world’s coming to an end” energy would ripple through the dining room and threaten the peace of the few customers we had. 

“Just remember, from a philosophical point of view, we are a community here, and we create a community that’s part of the larger community. The Upper East Side as you well know is a very specific place, we are lucky that we have a big dining room that feels bright, spacious and healthy. We are in the hospitality business. Everyone knows that the hospitality business gets hit hard when this stuff happens. But as long as we have guests, we need to be so grateful to them.” 

“And the hospitality business is also the Show Business, okay? So that means whatever you’re worried about in your personal life–and we are all worried because we don’t know what’s coming next–take this opportunity when the curtain goes up and just focus on the work. If you don’t have anything in that moment to do, try to find something dirty and either clean it, or tell me if you don’t have time to clean it. But let’s really create a place where people can lessen their anxiety. When they come in and they see us smiling and happy and fine, they might want to come back because they think ‘Oh my gosh this place isn’t depressing. This place is still up.’ And that’s part of the ambiance.” 

“And of course we have to be more careful than ever that none of us are touching our faces, for our own personal health, but also guests will be watching us closely.” 

“But there’s no point to borrow trouble today people. Because if things are going to be much worse three weeks from now, then we’re going to look back and say geez why didn’t I just enjoy my life that week when it wasn’t so bad? When I still had a paycheck, when I was allowed to walk around. Wherever your head is going right now, try to stay here. For your own mental health. Because all we ever have is the present. And if we borrow trouble from the future, it doesn’t lessen the trouble that may be coming. It’s not like, let me worry about it now so it will be less awful down the road. Bullshit. That’s not the way it works. Let’s enjoy now. Let’s have drinks with our friends. Let’s go out–and be safe about it. It’s weird and it’s scary and it’s unknown. But generations of Americans and people all around the world have dealt with weird and scary and unknown and they survived.” 

Thursday, March 12, 2020

Today Broadway announced they are shutting down for at least a month. 

As soon as I heard that I knew in my heart restaurants were next. Union Square Restaurant Group led the way by announcing they were closing. Looking around our own restaurant, and talking to other friends in the industry, it was clear to me that ceasing operations would quickly become a financial as well as health and safety decision. Staffing a full scale fine dining operation–dishwashers, cleaners, prep cooks, waiters, food runners, bussers, bartenders, sous chefs, chefs, hosts, maitre d’s, managers–with drastically decreasing numbers of guests means hemorrhaging money. There is a tipping point at which it doesn’t make sense to stay open. 

Every day this week we did 40-45 people for lunch. People would say “I’m so glad you’re open,” “I’m so glad you’re not dead. We went to Xyz Other Restaurant and it was so dead we left, it was depressing.” 

I must have washed and Purelled my hands twice as much today as I did yesterday. I enjoyed welcoming guests with a big warm smile and assuring them, in a way and at a level I had never done before, that they were in safe hands with me driving the boat. I sent out graciousness, kindness, and warmth, and carefully picked the best tables–not too near each other–for each party. I made sure they knew how happy we were to see them, and how right it was to enjoy while we can. 

Friday, March 13, 2020

Last night when I went to bed we had 45 on the books for Friday lunch. When I woke up we were down to 22.

This morning at premeal one of the servers pointed out that we need another solution for the bread because people no longer want to touch the table’s communal loaf of bread to break off their own piece. The new hand sanitizers had been installed in ten additional places throughout the restaurant. 

We ended up doing 21 for lunch, and that was with five walk-ins. There was definitely a sense that people were strategizing what to do next, and many people were getting ready to leave town. When I packed up my stuff and said goodbye I was pretty darned sure that it would be a while before I worked here again. I made an extra point to say goodbye to the porters who help me get the place clean and ready in the morning. I leaned down under the glass racks at the dish washing station and looked them in the eyes and smiled. And said goodbye. I kept thinking, how dare I worry about what’s going to happen to me…. 

Sunday, March 15, 2020

This morning several of my friends were encouraging me to evacuate the city. To consider where else I could go. My mom had been saying for days we could come down to Florida and ride it out with them. With a backyard, pool, less density, Velvetta grilled cheese sandwiches…Mom. I weighed all my possible options and decided I wanted to stay in Brooklyn. I had just a month earlier given up my place in Pennsylvania and committed to being “all in” here in NYC. I live here now. 

This afternoon I met a girlfriend for a walk. We bought flowers, saw her new apartment, then found an open cafe with empty seats outside in the sun. As usual I dithered a bit before ordering, and my friend asked the barista how she was holding up.

“Well, there’s a virus going around and I’m being forced to work.” 

I perked up, “You’re being forced?”

“Well, the rent’s not going to pay itself,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

We were stunned. 

My friend paid with a card, and then she pulled out a ten dollar bill and put it in the tip jar and said some form of “Here’s something to help.” The woman actually rolled her eyes again. 

I was awash with mixed emotions. First, is she really being forced to work? Because if that’s the case, that’s not okay, Second, I bet there are a lot of people who want to get as many more days work in as they can. Third, this is the antithesis of hospitality! This woman is spreading negative juju instead of positive. She was rude, and we were nice. Or at least we thought we were. 

After our coffee we went to Whole Foods, just to see how busy it was. It actually was less busy than I’d ever seen it, so we did some shopping. When I got to the checkout person, the first thing I did was look her in the eyes, smile and say “Thank you for being here.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sure you’re dealing with a lot of really stressed out people and that can’t be easy.”

She nodded.

After I checked out, a woman in line behind me said “Thank you for smiling. That made me feel better.” 

Late this afternoon my general manager called to tell me that while they are going to try to stay open, they are going to run the operation with salaried staff only so as an hourly employee I’m out of work. She assured me that I was very valued and hoped that I wouldn’t be hurt or offended. I assured her I totally understood and quite frankly, anticipated it. 

The conversation then switched to her concerns about staying open when so many other big restaurant groups were closing. 

“I don’t know, do you think it is socially irresponsible?” she asked.

“No, I don’t. Not right now.  I mean, what’s Stephen Starr doing? As long as Stephen Starr restaurants are open, you’re fine. But I also think you won’t have to make that decision. I think that decision is going to be made for you. My guess is that before long there’s going to be an order requiring all restaurants to shut down.” 

Before the end of the day, restaurants were ordered to shut down. 

Wednesday, March 17, 2020

“Did you ever think you’d see a New York without restaurants?” my friend asked. I hadn’t realized until that moment that we were, in fact, living in just that unimaginable New York. We wiped down the surfaces of a couple of Citibikes and rode to Williamsburg for some fresh air and She Wolf Bakery bread from Marlowe & Daughters. We like to slice and freeze the miche, polenta boule, and sprouted rye to keep in the freezer, and we were all out. Who knows when they will stop baking bread? Better stock up. I called to see if they were open and they had any: they said they were closing at 5pm and offered to hold me a loaf. On the way we passed the construction site of our friends’ restaurant that was supposed to open later this spring. 

“What do you think would be worse?” I asked. “Having just opened your restaurant, or….” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.   

This is surreal and alarming, but it has far from sunk in. We are cooking great meals and trying to go out once or twice a day for exercise and fresh air. 

Friday, March 20, 2020

This morning I drove into Manhattan to pick up my last check, turn in my Cobra stuff, and help myself to perishables in the walk-in, as we had been invited to do so by the management. So many of us were there, and when I saw some of the lunch crew, I almost started crying. It was too crazy. We weren’t allowed to work anymore. We had no idea when and if we would ever work together again. Whether the restaurant would reopen or not. Most of us seemed stunned, the harsh reality sinking in deeper each time another employee came in. One chef I hadn’t seen since he left for his wedding ten days earlier. Yes, they got married, but half the people canceled. “Yeah, I never thought I’d get married and then have to apply for unemployment the next week.” I asked around and most people were having trouble getting signed up for unemployment–no surprise there–but a few had been successful. That made me feel better.   

At 9pm we had a virtual cocktail party with friends–more like family, really–in the business. One, the head of HR for a large restaurant group, another the director of operations. They laid off 750 employees this week. Also at the party was a chef who had been laid off, and his wife who works in the corporate office at a different restaurant company. And another couple who have been working on opening their own restaurant in a different state: a newlywed couple’s first baby. A lifelong dream. Comparing restaurants to babies is apt. As much love and planning goes into bringing a new restaurant as does a child into the world: a whole lot more, in some cases. 

Saturday, March 21, 2020

It’s a beautiful day;  the magnolias and daffodils are in bloom.

The green market compost people said this would be the last week they’d be there. 

The park feels uncomfortably crowded. 

I was finally successful at signing up for unemployment, which is a huge relief since today was the last day to be able to be paid for this week. However, I have to wait until Wednesday to submit or file or whatever it is I have to do. I have never collected unemployment in my life. In 1991 when I was working at the Four Seasons in Boston, I was given the choice of being laid off eligible for rehire, or moving to Nevis, West Indies, to help open the Four Seasons Resort there. I moved to Nevis. 

I spent the last 16 years of my life teaching high school English, and only recently moved back to NYC and back to working in restaurant operations, with the hope of ultimately blending the two metiers for a third act in hospitality education. I think about how, if I hadn’t left my teaching job in PA, I’d still be employed, hanging out in my backyard, watching spring unfurl, getting a regular paycheck and not having to figure out what to do with my health insurance. Did I make a mistake? That’s like asking me if I wished I hadn’t lived in New York during 911. I may feel differently in six months, but for now, I wouldn’t be anywhere else. And I can’t wait to be part of whatever shape and direction the hospitality industry will take when we are allowed to go back to work. 

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Yesterday it rained all day so it wasn’t hard to shelter in place. 

Last night we decided the goal is to go shop (and go out) as infrequently as possible, and therefore to do a big shop today. 

Whole Foods started controlling the flow of customers and we waited in line on socially distant pieces of yellow tape to get in. Security guards directed us and required employees to show their IDs before they could skip the line. Less than half the people in there were wearing masks, and while some shoppers seemed conscious of keeping six feet apart, others were crammed together in the more popular aisles. 

I say “thank you for being here” to every employee I see and wonder at what point during this pandemic I should apply for a job at Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s.

Today the New York Times published an Op-Ed by leaders in our industry spelling out the impact and import of restaurants to the economy. My favorite line, and one I know to be very true, states that whether it’s high-end fine dining or a more casual spot “your favorite restaurant is primarily in the business of giving a whole lot of people a paycheck.”

I’m so grateful for Instagram and limited online news that keeps me abreast of what our industry leaders are doing on our behalf, and for the strange and addictive solace of Andrew Cuomo press conferences. 

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

This morning I woke to the news that Chef Floyd Cardoz died of complications of Coronavirus.