We're not open Mother's Day. It's a Sunday, the one day of the week we all have off - even the owner, and it's a little surprising, given how busy it would be, but the owner has decided it's not worth the hassle. Mother's Day diners, they're not spending any money.
Nonetheless we get no less than a hundred phone calls trying to make reservations.
Some customers are OK with it, some act surprised ("You're not open Sundays?" "Sir, we haven't opened Sundays for 30 years..."). Some are irate and accuse us of "not being open on Mother's Day". Which is true, but it's also true that we're not open on Sundays and that's been the way it is since the restaurant opened. Some, the more foolish, call on Sunday and speaking to the owner try to make reservations, he tells them himself we're not open, and there's no arguing with him. Pity the fool that tries.
We have an older clientele, the Mother's day crowd has no appeal, if the average age of our customer is 50-60, how old will their mother be?
Still, a few bring them in on Saturday night. Exhumed, unwrapped, powdered and painted, the Sarah Coventry and Avon brooch grave goods applied, their wheeled, escorted, paraded into the restaurant. Once a year they're a happy family.
It's a museum of archeology, paleontology...
Wheelchairs, oxygen bags and strollers, regular customers trot out and exhibit their mother's for all the world to see. Vainly trying to persuade her to have a glass of wine, live a little, once a year they're the good son or daughter, the rest of the year "Mom" is re interred in her retirement home or underground apartment, buried far away from busy lives that never, ever include her, but tonight's her night and for the first time ever we all get to meet "mom".
Saturday was a long, late and busy night.