Christmas Fea(S)t
The brief was clear: I was to be the hostess for the Christmas lunch at Tabula Rasa, one of Delhi’s most happening restaurants at the Square One Mall in Saket. Their resident hostess Breeze, Brijeshwari if you like, laid out the ground rules: I had to make reservations, greet customers, escort them to their tables and hand them the Christmas ‘fixed’ menu. And through all this, most importantly, “remember to keep smiling, no matter what” as Breeze said. That’s a Breeze, I told myself.
So there I was at 2 p.m. on Christmas Day. I had initially thought of dressing up in white but thankfully stuck to black instead. Just as well because if I had dressed in red or white, they would have made me the official Santa. Now my black dress perfectly hid those layers of Santa fat. I rehearsed my smile before I stepped in. Perfect.
I started with the reservations. The drill began with the customary “Good afternoon, how can I help you?” Once the guests walked in, I had to whip out my pen and paper, write down the number of people, ask them if they preferred the lounge or a dining table, discreetly note down the time they come in and then assign them to the table. Breeze had handed me a graphic map of the table arrangement that made my job a cakewalk. The only mental math I had to do was make sure the size of the table was right for the group. Now I should be credited with better sense than sending a group of 10 to a table for two.
I took over after watching Breeze deal with a couple of customers. My photographer wanted me to greet customers with a bow and a flourish-”it will make a nice picture,” she said-but I resolutely refused. Breeze hadn’t told me that, I said, and I didn’t want to look silly. I will stick to smiling prettily.
The first set of customers walked in. I did my piece, asked them if they wanted to be in the dining area or the lounge. The terrace, they said, in unison. “Sorry, but the terrace is closed today.” They looked disappointed and settled for the lounge. And then, with great ceremony, I handed them the Christmas lunch menu. “What? Can’t we eat anything else? What about the a la carte,” one of them said. “Sorry, sir but we have a fixed menu today-Christmas lunch,” I blurted out, the smile intact. They didn’t smile back, instead, discussed among themselves and settled for drinks with starters at the lounge.
The next set, two people, walked in. I repeated my exercise and they walked off. They didn’t like the idea of a fixed menu, they said. They’d rather choose what to eat. Made perfect sense, but all I could do was sport a silly smile. The third set of guests and again, the same routine. I was beginning to get worried. Would Tabula Rasa kick me out for being unlucky. The smile was beginning to wane. And then, like magic, a couple walked in. I said my lines, they settled for the lounge and didn’t mind the Christmas lunch. For the first time, I smiled, nice and bright.
After them, a couple of others walked out sooner than they could walk in. One of them at least made bookings for a New Year lunch. We decided to wind up before Tabula Rasa actually told us to leave. By now, I didn’t mind a few drinks or a Christmas lunch myself. But before I do that, I must ask my editor for a salary hike-the Christmas lunch costs Rs 1,650 plus taxes for an adult and 800 plus taxes for a child. Gunjan Sangwan is a trainee staff writer with The Indian Express, Delhi)
The Indian Express