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Salty Lime
Narragansett beach find - October 21
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I worked for an amazing woman years ago who ran a restaurant that gained near legendary status. Even well into the cold New England fall, the outdoor 'lawn' and bar would fill with politicians, celebrities, local 'vips,' fun couples, and mafia types.
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What we called "adventure dining" happened in part because there were still smokers in the mix and that was the only legit place for them to relax with nicotine and a drink.
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We also told guests they were 'hearty souls' as we marched them past skunks and water trenches, dodging rain drops to seat them under green tented tops loosely dangled with lush red swags.
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In their high-paying disbelief, they'd sit, eat great food under canopy, and find themselves with amazing stories to tell later.
Regardless of weather, we stayed open, and in downpours, we'd dig trenches in the crushed stone, so water would run off via tiny canals around our guests' feet while they drank $10 cocktails and ate $28 entrees (in the1990s).
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We were open in snow storms when roads and bridges were shut down. Because 'Tratt' was located on a small island, this meant something: a near giveaway of food and drink for anyone who needed some genuine conversation.
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"My people need a place to go," Phyl would say.
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The staff were mostly adult professionals taking care of customers in their own well-seasoned ways, and we worked well together. Honestly, it was a ball. Pooled tips will do that. So will a good leader, and a great restaurant name. She chose hers intentionally.
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Phyllis used the word "welcome" a good deal too. In contrast to formula food joints, she also did not train her staff on rules or procedures, save the occasional mindset prompt to think of ourselves as "good will ambassadors," or a one-time frantic edict to use toothpicks to spear limes before they hit the gin & tonics.
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If you are a restaurant person, you know no number of toothpicks will save anyone from what can happens to maraschino cherries and orange slices. But that's beside the point.
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Flopping Fop
Early on, we had a notation on the reservation book called Friend of Phyl's - FOP. So many people cited this connection looking for free goodies and "better service," that FOP became ridiculous term, inciting eye rolls and laughter, so we simply treated everyone as we saw fit. Which was good and fair.
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And, when deserved, with humor and affection too.
She also told us that each guest at the restaurant was like a guest at her home. Legions of souls came to tell her of their troubles and drink decent Merlot in large stemware. "I was in human services, dear" she'd tell those who sat with her, while pushing another cigarette into the ashtray, touching her headband, and exhaling with a flickering smile.
I'm grateful to have been mentored by women like Phyl. I'm not sure she'd see her role as teacher, she was a social worker at heart and free-spirited person who eschewed marriage and other nonsensical arrangements. She acknowledged the 300+ year old beech tree on her property, and her dog may have been her closest companion.
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Reno the golden retriever came to the restaurant for years and was credited with getting her home some nights by SUV. Wine was free flowing, and the on-island drive only but 3 miles. This was not uncommon, my childhood neighbor used to drive a Cadillac with no plates and the cops would keep 'dummies' off the road around him, so he could get home fine. He was born on the island, after all.
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I couldn't help but pay attention to Phyl and how she ran the place, and speculate about why. Restaurant work requires being highly keyed to what's happening in the moment, and this changes frequently – table by table, bar by bar, and person by person. Money and food are in play, and alcohol too, so there is a complex matrix of understanding to be had, at a rapid rhythm sometimes, if you choose to tune in.
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The language Phyl used that brought people together so well were intentional phrases like "welcome" and "join us," and an occasional, "you are invited to..."
Cross-promoting nights, events, and live music (as well as other businesses nearby) is something that was good for everyone. I always believed petty fiefdoms are petty, and sharing divine. Tratt was all those things, with queens and singers, former porn stars dressed like private detectives, business moguls, boat yard dogs, improper pros, quiet doctors, and the uber respectable, with painters, and actors and bookkeeping bussers to boot.
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Eating free "sobering cheese" late night and sharing in the day's community news and town council shenanigans was also part of the program.
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And when you work in food service and hospitality – giving information freely is a lovely way to go. "Killing by kindness" even better. Hosting a room, serving guests, musicians and staff alike, while paying attention to what is, makes good things happen in the future, for all the participants right now and for the next time around. It's just how it goes.
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You can't really teach this, but language can help get you there. It's certainly what's helped me in my multi-faceted career.
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For the past few weeks I worked promoting a community event in Wakefield, RI. I can't say enough good things about all the people who made it happen and nod to the great music. What a lovely success, and a fabulous 11–hour lovely bunch of fun. ❤️
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Serendipity of searching for self
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And finding an artist who hid her entire life by searching. This piece is coming from someone who has experimented and had success in SEO for 25+ years, and occasionally likes to check on what's coming up these days on the web. You know, coming up like flowers from the dirt. Or coming up like non-curated titles 'by keyword' in …
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Categories: Mommess, Research & Development, Search Research, Visual Art, Web Marketing
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