Does it bite at your edges?
Do you lie awake restless?
Why am I so obsessive?
Hangin’ onto every sentence
This town’s the same as you left it
Your page was blank but I read it
I still dial 822-993-167

I like to listen to this song so loud I can’t hear myself think, and I never purposefully seek it out, but when it comes on.. Game on I’ll listen to it on repeat for the rest of my day.

Pretty much every night there’s something biting at my edges, lying awake restless, being obsessive, thinking about something I said or someone else said to or about me.

Lately there’s been a couple things biting my edges, this week was a rough one. This is actually the first week since I started working again that I wondered if I’m in the wrong place, then I realized that’s not possible. If it wasn’t meant for me, it wouldn’t be happening. Just another lesson from the universe I suppose, not to say I’m not getting sick of those.

The night the Celtics won.. not good.

Thursday not good.

Friday, exhaustingly long.

Saturday, someone writes a review of the restaurant that says the drinks taste like toilet water.

The fun part about having a blog you only allow a handful of people to see is that I get to say the woman who said that is a miserable cunt. I don’t say that lightly either. You sat in my restaurant for 3 and a half hours, ate two courses of food, had two rounds of drinks, and didn’t once think wow I hate everything I should speak to a manager?

No, instead you tipped your server 10% left, and wrote a review under a fake fucking name. Grow up.

A piece of advice for anyone writing a review of a restaurant, if you don’t want that restaurant to know you said it, you should probably not be so descriptive of your night, because in my world information is everything.

When I know things about people or guests, it gives me the opportunity to make their night, day, life all better, and that’s really all I’m trying to do. Sometimes I try to hard. Sometimes I fail, when I do fail I apologize. Sometimes I make a gesture too grand. Whatever I’m human. At the end of the day I think we live in a world that could use a little magic, and through just being present and listening to what people have to say, you can actually make that magic happen, and those are the moments I live for.

So to the woman who wrote the review: I’ve flagged your name in our open table. You didn’t answer my phone call, I know you won’t return call. You’ll look at my well written email and be shocked at how gracious and kind I am, and hopefully feel like an asshole when you see it signed:

Jordan McCusker, Assistant General Manager & Bar Manager.

My last little angry rant point on this is, if you want someone to take your review serious.

1. Don’t say the drinks taste like toilet water, unless that’s your drinking source on your own time.
2. Consider the fact that you said the restaurant needs a “real mixologist” and not only did me and my entire bar staff laugh at that, but we all expressed relief. Mixology is for those bozos that have a serious ego and take what they do too serious. Our drinks are simple, balanced, and pretty basic. It’s what fits the restaurant and it’s what I like. They’re all based on classics, just with different ingredients.
3. We’re serving food and drink, it’s not that serious. If you didn’t like something tell me, I will never make a guest pay for something they don’t like. Hell I give shit away to guests every night.

I will admit that I am obsessive and hang onto reviews and words like that, they hurt. When you work really hard on putting a bar program together that was in a lesser place than you found it and you’re getting continuous positive feed back it’s hard not to feel a little good about it.

Me being a pessimist trying to learn to be optimistic, when you read a bad review that is in part about you it really feels like a gut punch.

Last night I did the following:

1. Popped a bottle of Prosecco for a girls 28th birthday, signed the bottle with her name, the birthday it was, 1928, and the date, and gave it to her with a set of champagne flutes to take home.
2. Popped a bottle of champagne for two lovely guests who just moved from Ireland to beacon hill, they were celebrating 10 years together, I gave them the bottle that said “10 years at 1928 6/21/24” and a set of glasses as well.
3. An older couple came in celebrating 26 years together, which is so amazing, they’ve been together almost as long as I’ve been alive, and several years longer than their server had been alive. They were both sober so I popped a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling rose and gave it to them in champagne glasses so they could feel included in what we try to do for people. I signed the bottle and gave them the glasses as well.

I also made a big gesture with champagne and all the stops for a bride to be who picked 1928 to celebrate at.

At the end of the day, if you decide to visit the restaurant when I’m in charge and it’s a special occasion, you’re going to feel special. If you exist in my every day life and I make a mistake, or it’s a special occasion, guess what? you’re going to get the same treatment. It’s part of who I am, and I apologized for it this week but I never will again.

I take care of people, it’s what makes me feel full, sure that’s a broken thing to say. I’m in therapy and working on it. When you spend several of your formative years not being cared for because your parents decide to do drugs and leave you, it changes who you are. For me it made me want no one to ever feel that way.

You win some, and lose the rest.

Where the skies are gold not gray,

J.