Celebrity Encounter

Over this past summer, I had the opportunity to work for the Four Seasons Hotel in Philadelphia as a hostess in the Fountain Restaurant. My first day began at 5:45 AM, dressing in my “business casual” attire. Looking back, this outfit was the bane of my working existence. The stark white blouse and black straight-legged pants aged me at least ten years. I was no longer a seventeen-year-old teenager whose summer closet attire consisted of shorts, tank tops, sundresses, swimsuits and flip-flops. My slicked back bun only reinforced the frumpy look I was going for. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw someone unrecognizable. I had no idea what awaited me in the business world, a world I was about to be exposed to in less than two hours. Walking out of my home and driving to the train station, I quickly realized there was no turning back; I was not going to be working with my friends or working under my father. I was interning for the Big Dogs of the Hospitality industry, and I knew I had to prove to the men of the industry that as a young individual I was no pedestrian lacking passion or experience. I grew up surrounded by hospitality and knew the inner workings of a restaurant better than any of my peers my own age, so how hard could seating people be?

             As soon as I arrived, my supervisor Kyle quickly thrust me into seating people as breakfast shift had the reputation to be the busiest and most demanding shift. Fortunately I demonstrated my knowledge of seating charts and the program OpenTable, quickly impressing my new manager. As breakfast wound down and the restaurant flipped into lunch mode, I had the opportunity to talk to Kyle casually, becoming informed about the restaurant. Kyle informed me that many celebrities drop in for breakfast and lunch most often, using alias names to go unrecognized by other guests. He warned that if should I be approached by a celebrity at the hostess stand that it was paramount I keep my cool. I nodded my head nonchalantly as if this conversation we were currently in was the norm for me, casually talking about encountering celebrities regularly. Not even an hour later, my test arrived in the form of Jayson Werth, under the reservation name “Kill’em.” Anyone who knows me well is well informed that I have had a major crush on this man since seventh grade. They would also be aware that I trick or treated at his house in ninth grade and shed more than a couple of tears after hearing he had left the Phillies to play for the Nationals.

If this is unfamiliar and you (the reader) are just hearing this now, then you can at least assume what my facial expression was when I was greeted by this hunk of an athlete I had dreamed of marrying and even had wished that dream when I blew out my fourteenth birthday candles. My jaw hung low, my cheeks rose color red, and my face was sweating profusely-you could say I was playing it cool and even hard to get. I showed him to Table 1, away from other guests just as he requested. His server Darrell shook his hand and asked how his wife and kids were, again I asked myself, “How was this seen as casual?” I returned to my hostess stand, and told Kyle of my obsession with Jayson, but assured him I wouldn’t even glimpse at the sculpted athlete. As I went back to the kitchen to assist Antoinette, another server, make tea and coffee, Rafael the executive chef was made aware by Kyle that I had a crush on the guest at Table 1. He handed me a plate of Eggs Benedict with a side of home fries and bacon and said, “Bring this to Table 1 please.” I blushed bright red and almost refused, but decided against it given it was my first day on the job. I grabbed the plate, and spoke to myself the whole way from the kitchen to the table, yelling at myself to act casual. As I approached the table, he gazed up from his morning newspaper and smiled. I quickly looked away, dropped the plate abruptly on the table and stood there. Yes, stood there as if I was his mother waiting for him to finish his vegetables. He looked confused, muttered “Thanks?” and gave me the nod to leave. He most definitely thought I was a mute, socially handicapped, or didn’t understand English or all three. I snapped out of my infatuation and turned around and ran back to the kitchen, ashamed that I had blown my chance of potentially sparking a connection with my leading man. My first day was the most memorable experience of my summer job and by far the most embarrassing to say the least.