Dear Martha, the Patron Saint of Restaurants, please give me strength today as I wait tables on this fourteenth day of February, the most amateurish day of all right after New Year’s Eve.
Give me patience to understand that my whole entire section will be full of two-tops all night and that even my prime booth that seats six people will only have two lovebirds who want to sit on the same side.
Help me understand that all of my customers will think they are the only important people in the world, even though I have at least twenty other guests who will be thinking the same thing.
Give me the power to not laugh at the sad straight man who went to Walgreen’s today and bought a teddy bear in a coffee mug to give to his girlfriend as a symbol of their shining true love. I will also need some extra power to not smirk when he hands her one of those stupid fucking plastic roses with a light inside it. And just a little bit more strength to not throw up when I see baby’s breath.
Help me find the fortitude to explain our pri-fixe menu to every table so my customers will understand why the menu prices are higher than they were yesterday for the same boring crap.
Please help me find a way to score an extra chocolate molten lava cake so that I can stuff it into my mouth in the side stand when my manager isn’t looking. Let that cake be the nourishment I need to carry on for the night.
Give me the resilience I will need to make it through this night of constantly being in the weeds when I know I have to open for brunch tomorrow.
Open my eyes to the opportunity to receive an extra glass of Chardonnay that maybe the bartender poured by accident or, if not that, then guide me to any bottle so that I can pour myself a glass.
Finally, dear Martha, please find it in your heart to bless me with 25% tips tonight. My one true Valentine is my wallet and it needs to be shown some love.