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Oh fuck it's Mother's Day

There are a few days in the calendar which Hospitality staff would prefer to avoid if at all possible. The days when the people who don't really know how to behave in restaurants come out to play, the overbooked days, the days when people walk in and are frankly astonished, nay, outraged that no table is available for them.

New Year's Eve? Yes, to an extent, though that's generally mitigated by high prices, the Christmas season in general is a cockpit for terrible behaviour on the part of the general public, so NYE doesn't really stand out so much as you'd think. Valentine's Day is always a shithouse, not only because all of your tables becomes tables of 2, so the amount of people you do is generally quite disappointing, but because it's normally booked by blokes, so doesn't fill up until the last second (yes, yes, a terrible generalisation, I know, also true). But it does have the upside of there generally being a spectacular break-up to gawp at, plus the odd table of three to idly speculate about.

Round these parts, Grand National weekend is often a wise one to book off, characterised as it generally is by some breathtakingly poor behaviour and lots of beefy blokes wanting well done steak. There are plenty who swear by (or at) Christmas Eve being one to duck, and even a few who shudder with dread at the approach of any bank holiday (May's normally the worst, with everyone a bit giddy at the appearance of sunshine).

But the one that tops them all, the most relentless, bone-crushing, bone-headed bastard of them all is Mother's Day.

Busiest day of the year, hands down. We've been sold out for a fortnight and the phone's still ringing more or less constantly with requests for tables. I've got a reserve list longer than the actual amount of bookings. All to the good, with my owner's head on, it's a much needed shot in the arm after the drear, joyless stretch of January and February (plus, my cellar cooler's packed in, and it's nigh on four grand for a new one, so no complaints here).

With my chef head on, though, it's a day to be dreaded, even after all these years, there's nothing quite so dispiriting as looking at a full check-board and knowing that, no matter what you do, it's staying like that for the next seven hours without pause. And also knowing that, how can I put this politely? There are going to be a LOT of knobheads.

Because Mother's Day is one of those days when People Who Don't Usually Go Out To Eat feel compelled to go out to eat. And when they do, they generally find much that is to their dissatisfaction. The price, normally, because "This only costs ten pounds at the Toby".

Yes mate, there's a reason for that.

Their belief that we should all be working for free tends to go hand in hand with a deep suspicion of anything on the menu which isn't screamingly dull. Which *buffs nails modestly* we do try not to be. There is a certain sort of customer that takes deep offence to departures from what they perceive to be the norm, who will disdain mains that don't come with chips, sniff uncertainly at anything even remotely seasoned, raise their hands to high heaven at the thought of Hummus. 

If all this makes me sound like a screaming snob then, well, yes, I am, I assume you're new round here, but lucky you there's a twenty year archive of how dreadful I am that you can dig into; but I also know whereof I speak, and *coughcough* years at the Hospo coalface, sending out mushy peas with a roast because that's all an actual grown man will eat, or having perfectly cooked veg returned because it "isn't cooked" has taught me that Mother's Day is one of those where you've simply got to grin and bear it, it'll be over in a bit and in a few days your normal customers will come back.

So, as the day in question hoves into view, and the pub echoes with the sound of my patient, wonderful front of house team explaining that no, you can't have a table of 12, sorry, I shall do what I always do, prep up. More of everything. Take the stock levels you think you need and double them. My butchers and veg guys love it, my fridge engineer worries. Be nice to your ma this Mother's Day, she's very probably a wonderful woman, but be nice to your waiting on staff, too, and for the love of God make sure you buy the kitchen a drink.


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