A Napkin Is A Very Difficult Thing To Handle

Who knew? I certainly didn't. If someone asked me before my training at the Summit Restaurant, "Sarah, what do you think the most difficult or challenging part of the job will be?", my response would not have been: "Handling a napkin." That just seems silly. No, I would have answered: "Figuring out where the tables are because the restaurant is always revolving." How wrong of me to assume. That is the easy part. The hardest part of my job and the part I dread the most is handling a napkin. I know the suspense is killing you, so I will explain why.

First, there is the task of folding napkins (which I have mentioned in previous posts). At the restaurant, the white linen napkins are set at each dinner guest's place on the table and are suppose to look like rectangle pillows (hard to give you a visual on this one, you'll just have to roll with me). And it is the hostess's duty to get them that way, all rec-tangly and pillowy. I suppose if a patron was extremely tired, you would want the napkin to be an appealing pillow for them to lay their head on. Regardless, I am terrible at it. The first time I tried Frank, another manager, came over and ripped the napkin out of my hand saying, “No, no- you fold it this way. You want it to have a nice, pillowy top.” So the next time I attempted to fold the napkins, my intention was simple: make them as pillowy as possible. Again, Frank comes over, grabs the napkin and says, “No, no- you want to fold it like this, with a nice little poof that rest gently on top.” “So my napkins are too pillowy?” I ask. “Yes,” he replies. I feel like I am in a restaurant version of Goldie Locks and the Three Bears: The first group of napkins Sarah folded was too flat. The second group of napkin Sarah folded was too puffy. But the third group of napkins Sarah folded (hopefully, I’m trying to use a self-fulfilling prophecy here) were juuuuust right. The End.

Except it’s not the end. Because then there is the issue of “lapping.” Once a dinner guest has taken their place at the table, it is my job as the hostess to “lap them.” In other words, I must unfold the pillowy, rectangle napkin sitting in front of them with one hand (because the other hand is holding the menus) and somehow manage to convert it into a triangle (the square napkin folded diagonally) and then gently place it over their lap. This is not a skill I acquired in my 24 years of life, and let me tell you it is a hard one to learn. Frank (again) rushed over one evening to show me how to do it properly. He explained that I couldn’t look all clumsy and awful doing it, but that I needed to add some grace and finesse when lapping customers. I love saying that, lapping customers- doesn’t it sound so dirty even though you know its not? Either way, I am a horrible napkin lapper, and now you know.

Finally, and this has nothing to do with napkins because I think I have exhausted that topic enough, I received my log-in number for work and learned how to sign in and out of my shift, and it is perhaps the coolest thing I have ever seen or done. Why? Because they have a machine that scans my finger to confirm my identity! How ridiculously cool. I feel like James Bond on a high security, top secret mission. Hostessing at the Summit Restaurant is clearly some serious business people, so don’t mess.