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Jeff BurkhartMother’s Day has always been one of the three big spring events that loom large in the restaurant business, and even larger in the bar business. Mother’s Day, Cinco de Mayo and the Kentucky Derby all come rapidly and in an order subject to various factors, up to and including that two of the three can overlap. Cinco de Mayo and the Derby can fall on the same day, but Mother’s Day and the rest cannot, probably for good reason.
This Mother’s Day group had already began assembling at the bar. A young mother cradled a newborn and an older woman looked on lovingly. Magic moments like these make up the restaurant business. Food is such an important part of our lives that most celebrations revolve around it, especially if someone else is making it.
The great-grandmother nursed her Ramos fizz, a concoction that screams motherhood with its eggs and cream (its gin might be another matter). Meanwhile, the new mother sipped a mimosa, only this one was “virgin,” just soda water with a splash of orange juice. If we can’t participate in the alcohol itself, sometimes the ritual alone will suffice.
The group had arrived on time for their reservation. All except one. And as is the policy with most restaurants, incomplete parties aren’t sat. The reasoning being, if someone is 45 minutes late, their party won’t start without them, and in that time another party can come and go. It is simple economics.
And it bore out well with this party because their last arriving member was more than 50 minutes late. Usually when late people arrive, they apologize. But, not always. Sometimes they blame.
And it was with blame that mom blew into the room. It was her husband’s fault, the car’s fault, the traffic lights, the parking lot and finally, the restaurant’s fault. It was all some sort of grand conspiracy. A conspiracy that involved several inanimate objects, a couple of large organizations and a few disconnected people, all of which rendered an apology unnecessary.
“Hello, mom,” said the new mother, kissing her on the cheek, oddly in the same way she had kissed her newborn 20 minutes before when that newborn had begun to cry.
“Daughter,” said great-grandmother before returning to her Ramos fizz.
“Did you see that?” whispered the mom to her daughter.
“She didn’t mean anything, mom. She was just saying hello.”
Now another conspiracy surfaced, involving the great-grandmother and everyone else present. This went on for about 10 minutes. Looks, comments and even physical placement were all a part of a big plot. A plot for what was still yet unclear.
“You are all ruining my Mother’s Day!” the mom practically shouted first at her family and then at the hostess, who had the unfortunate task of telling the party it would be a few more minutes for their table to be ready. I guess that being an hour late for a reservation on a major holiday was supposed to be simply overlooked.
The manager came over, but scurried away moments later, realizing perhaps that there was no fixing something that would stymie even a team of therapists.
Two mothers did their best to salvage a situation, but one mother wouldn’t have it. She heard blame in every utterance, which was ironic because no blame was offered, even though plenty was warranted.
Eventually, the mom stormed off. One would have expected someone to follow her. But there’s a saying, “Going to the well once too often,” that seemed particularly relevant.
The hostess collected the party, minus one, and ushered them to the table. The mom was not among them.
Moments later, a young woman approached the bar.
“There’s a crying woman locked in the bathroom,” said the woman. “She is saying that her family has abandoned her. On Mother’s Day of all days.”
Leaving me with these thoughts:
• Don’t always believe every story you hear. Not at least until you’ve heard both sides.
• Some mothers believe Mother’s Day is just for them. In one sense it is, but that is also true for all the other mothers out there, too.
• When someone cannot take responsibility, they are usually quite good at assigning blame.
• “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way,” wrote Leo Tolstoy in 1877’s “Anna Karenina,” 37 years before the first official Mother’s Day.
• All mothers deserve their happy Mother’s Day, even the broken ones. And, perhaps especially, those that are the children of the broken ones.
Jeff Burkhart is the author of “Twenty Years Behind Bars: The Spirited Adventures of a Real Bartender, Vol. I and II,” the host of the Barfly Podcast on iTunes and an award-winning bartender at a local restaurant. Follow him at jeffburkhart.net and contact him at jeffbarflyIJ@outlook.com.
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