"A work of art has an author, and yet, when it is perfect, it has something which is anonymous about it..."--Simone Weil
I don't read all of the comments my posts receive--on some posts, generally the political ones, I don't read any of the comments--or at least I have not read them yet. I don't want to debate anyone or feel the necessity to clarify points or retort--this venue, as I have mentioned previously, is one for my own expression with a little anonymous exhibitionism thrown in for vicarious thrill.
However, a very kind and thoughtful comment recently impressed upon me that I should probably clarify certain details about my writing in general, as well as about my identity such as it is.
I am, as previously stated, a steakhouse general manager with well over two decades of restaurant experience in total. I have held my current post for over ten years, and it has become extremely lucrative--more so than any other steakhouse general manager [large or small, corporate or independent] reading this could probably imagine. I have become the de facto CEO of the restaurant company I work for, and my employer has happily abdicated almost all of his responsibilities to me--and he has paid me handsomely for it. I still work almost every night on the floor of my home restaurant, which is our flagship--all of my responsibilities together currently take about 83 hours a week to properly execute.
For over a decade I have also kept a very detailed work log on a nearly nightly basis--this log coupled with an excellent memory, for which I daily thank God, allows me an unusual amount of recall regarding events in my professional past, both great and small.
Mr. Troutman, in his kind and complementary comment, wonders whether I am who I say I am, or if I may in fact be more of a storyteller, or a designed persona.
Anyone who honors me enough to regularly check these often ignored pages deserves proper clarification of a few details insofar as I am willing to clarify.
I am in my late-thirties to nearly-fifty. Politically conservative, physically large [too large, probably], college-educated, successful, and self-made. I was born of rich and well-connected parents but have always made my own way. I was raised with the sensibilities of someone much older, as my father was himself much older than a normal Dad with a young son. My upbringing lacked many "normal" things, but made up for those deficiencies with many other "extraordinary" things, such as the roster of famous and influential people who considered my parents friends and made our houses regular stops. My home restaurant rests somewhere within a roughly 6 million square mile area that contains at least thirty possible candidates, by my estimation. My exceedingly vague references to location are, of course, entirely deliberate. All events described herein have happened, though the timeline is subject to change in order to protect the innocent. My recent story about Gladys' unfortunate evening may have happened last summer, or possibly six years ago--but it did happen. All conversations and interactions related in any post here are probably at least 85% accurate--and the most memorable or arresting quotes probably almost 100% accurate as I usually write those down almost immediately after hearing them.
Details that could identify me or my restaurant will be changed without affecting the content of posts--for example we may not own three restaurants--we may own six or four or seven with an eighth on the way. When I say it was snowing it might actually have been raining or vice versa, our signature ribeye might really be a bison steak or a porterhouse or huge bone-on New York. If I went to Per Se, I went--just maybe not when I said I went.
The details regarding my family are, unfortunately, painfully accurate.
I have led, so far, a somewhat unique and for my own purposes a very interesting life. I am a private person with a small group of very, very close friends and thousands of other people who know me on sight but with whom I share only the most superficial personal exchanges. I have an odd, localized, small kind of celebrity--a result of the prominence of my restaurant and the power I wield within it.
I am, as once described by an ex-employee, "not a normal guy". I do however hope to be an entertaining one.
Lastly, eat at The Scargo Cafe--from the looks of the website it is a really cool place.
I don't read all of the comments my posts receive--on some posts, generally the political ones, I don't read any of the comments--or at least I have not read them yet. I don't want to debate anyone or feel the necessity to clarify points or retort--this venue, as I have mentioned previously, is one for my own expression with a little anonymous exhibitionism thrown in for vicarious thrill.
However, a very kind and thoughtful comment recently impressed upon me that I should probably clarify certain details about my writing in general, as well as about my identity such as it is.
I am, as previously stated, a steakhouse general manager with well over two decades of restaurant experience in total. I have held my current post for over ten years, and it has become extremely lucrative--more so than any other steakhouse general manager [large or small, corporate or independent] reading this could probably imagine. I have become the de facto CEO of the restaurant company I work for, and my employer has happily abdicated almost all of his responsibilities to me--and he has paid me handsomely for it. I still work almost every night on the floor of my home restaurant, which is our flagship--all of my responsibilities together currently take about 83 hours a week to properly execute.
For over a decade I have also kept a very detailed work log on a nearly nightly basis--this log coupled with an excellent memory, for which I daily thank God, allows me an unusual amount of recall regarding events in my professional past, both great and small.
Mr. Troutman, in his kind and complementary comment, wonders whether I am who I say I am, or if I may in fact be more of a storyteller, or a designed persona.
Anyone who honors me enough to regularly check these often ignored pages deserves proper clarification of a few details insofar as I am willing to clarify.
I am in my late-thirties to nearly-fifty. Politically conservative, physically large [too large, probably], college-educated, successful, and self-made. I was born of rich and well-connected parents but have always made my own way. I was raised with the sensibilities of someone much older, as my father was himself much older than a normal Dad with a young son. My upbringing lacked many "normal" things, but made up for those deficiencies with many other "extraordinary" things, such as the roster of famous and influential people who considered my parents friends and made our houses regular stops. My home restaurant rests somewhere within a roughly 6 million square mile area that contains at least thirty possible candidates, by my estimation. My exceedingly vague references to location are, of course, entirely deliberate. All events described herein have happened, though the timeline is subject to change in order to protect the innocent. My recent story about Gladys' unfortunate evening may have happened last summer, or possibly six years ago--but it did happen. All conversations and interactions related in any post here are probably at least 85% accurate--and the most memorable or arresting quotes probably almost 100% accurate as I usually write those down almost immediately after hearing them.
Details that could identify me or my restaurant will be changed without affecting the content of posts--for example we may not own three restaurants--we may own six or four or seven with an eighth on the way. When I say it was snowing it might actually have been raining or vice versa, our signature ribeye might really be a bison steak or a porterhouse or huge bone-on New York. If I went to Per Se, I went--just maybe not when I said I went.
The details regarding my family are, unfortunately, painfully accurate.
I have led, so far, a somewhat unique and for my own purposes a very interesting life. I am a private person with a small group of very, very close friends and thousands of other people who know me on sight but with whom I share only the most superficial personal exchanges. I have an odd, localized, small kind of celebrity--a result of the prominence of my restaurant and the power I wield within it.
I am, as once described by an ex-employee, "not a normal guy". I do however hope to be an entertaining one.
Lastly, eat at The Scargo Cafe--from the looks of the website it is a really cool place.
posted by last one home at 7:46 PM
1 Comments:
This is perhaps my favorite post on an extraordinary blog. Your writing is head and shoulders above most of the drivel posted elsewhere (some of which has been optioned for publication).
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