I didn't even see them walk in, so I was unprepared for their beauty.
To his credit, my manager tried to warn me. He walked into the back and said, "You have new guests at table 60."
"Thanks," I said, and proceeded to go greet them, when he stopped me.
"They're a beautiful couple. Just beautiful."
"Okaaaaaaayyyy," I retorted, puzzled.
He offered no more details and simply walked away saying, "Pretty, pretty, pretty."
I headed out into the dining room thinking about how strange my manager is when I looked up and saw them.
HOT. DAMN.
These two guests were easily the most stunning people I'd ever seen in any of my restaurants. I won't describe them to you here, because words can't do them justice. Picture two flawless ten-carat diamonds. Picture two unicorns. Picture, I don't know, sexy kittens or the most magnificent sunset you've ever seen. That was these two people, and they were dressed to kill.
Not as good-looking. But close.
And of course, in all of the world, they had found each other. I imagine they met at some party somewhere and his opening line was, "You're probably the most attractive person in any room you ever enter. Me too. We should hang."
Now, don't get me wrong: I see good-looking people every day at work. I'm sure they cross your path, too. But something about this couple was different. A confluence of fortunate face genes, amazing bodies, a sense of fashion and the combined wattage of their attractiveness made them shine bright like stars in our dining room.
EVERYONE NOTICED THEM. The wife having an anniversary dinner with her husband stole glances in the man's direction. Watching the woman walk to the restroom was like watching "the wave" at a sports stadium: Heads swiveled in succession as her aura entered their peripheral vision. Even the cooks on the line paid special attention to their food.
One by one, the other servers came into the back and asked, "Who has table 60?" I felt an odd sense of pride that they sat in my section -- never mind the fact that I spent the entire meal feeling like I was the dorky kid about to ask them to go to prom. Oh, the gorgeous people? They're with ME. I got her to try an oyster for the first time. And by the way, I did -- the most popular girl in the restaurant tried an oyster because of ME!
That's pathetic. I know.
So...they didn't do anything crazy or behave in a bad way. These guests are simply memorable because they were hot. Superficial? Yes. But it does speak to a larger point, and that is that we notice you. In a fine-dining restaurant, you are known as a "seat number," and that's how you get the proper food and drinks delivered in a timely manner. But you could also be referred to as "man bun at table 10," or "red dress at 25." In a chaotic moment, I've told someone to "run this wine to the schnoz at 62. When you see it you'll know." And, when I told my server assistant to take something to 33 and he stared at me with a blank look on his face, I regretfully had to say, "The lady with the big boobs." Off he went, now that I was speaking his language.
Before you get angry at my lack of professionalism, please realize that this is a two-way street, of course. Very few people in the dining public actually make it a point to learn their server's name and use it, even though it's the first thing we tell the table. "Hi, I'm Sarah, and I will be your server this evening." (Lucky you). Most people gloss over the name and remember us by our looks. It occurs quite often that someone in the dining room will flag me down and tell me they need to speak to their server right away. I ask them who their server is and am met with a pained expression. They don't know their name, despite having been told -- and the fact that we all wear name tags. They then proceed to describe who they are looking for with the most delicate descriptors they can muster. I get the feeling they wish they could just say, "the lady with the crazy earrings," or "the guy with the hipster beard."
The fact is that I work in an industry where I share celebrations and special occasions with the public. I love that everyone tries a little harder when they go out to eat at a fancy restaurant. It enhances the atmosphere. Effort is made on my end, too. I try to look like someone you'd want to have serving you a birthday dinner. The fact is that it doesn't matter if either of us is a specimen of physical perfection like today's memorable guests, or more like the elderly couple celebrating their 55th wedding anniversary that color-coordinated their outfits. When you can come to a restaurant and have a truly special evening, it's a beautiful thing.
SLAY. ALL. DAY.