The 15th has come and gone, and we’re still not open
I was walking by a friend’s place yesterday and she asked me if I was “getting close.” I stopped to think about it for a brief moment, as though maybe we were getting close, but then reality came back and whacked me on the head. All that came out was “no.” This restaurant opening is not easy; the hardest thing about it is that I have to rely on other people to get things done, yet if anything goes wrong, it’s my problem to fix because everybody has you by the noisettes, and they know it. This is my first attempt, and I have already made a handful of mistakes that are biting back.
Sometimes, I start thinking that I just ain’t cut right for the project, and I start missing the times and places where I could drift along without all this riding on me. But I have a ton of family support behind me, which helps a lot. I met my dad for lunch recently, and I hit the chardonnay. He told me about a time when we were in the backyard grilling quails on the barbecue for 30 teachers my mom had invited over for dinner. He was freaking out because the fire was weak and the birds were all over the grill. He kept asking me, “You think we can pull this off? You think we can pull this off? We can’t, we’re screwed, it’s a disaster.” Apparently, I just kept telling him, “Don’t worry. Relax, we will get it done.” He kept pressing: “How do you know? How do you know?” And I just said, “Because we have to.” It’s as simple as that—sort of cuts through all the crap. This train is going to be late, but it is going to hit the station. Simply because it has to.