All That For A Few Stray Hairs

When I was in high school, I got a part-time job as a hostess at an Italian restaurant with a friend of mine. The restaurant was only open five days a week for dinner. The restaurant was fairly new but was already filling every table every night because the food was amazing. In addition to my friend and me being the only two hostesses, the busboys were friends, half of the waiters were friends, and the dishwasher was a friend.

The owner’s son was the floor manager, and with the success of the restaurant, he started to implement new changes. Everyone must look presentable and in uniform at all times. No dirty uniforms. Even for the busboy. He was rather rude to all employees and would hover and take over our jobs right in front of customers, apologizing for our inability to do our jobs correctly. However, everyone there was fantastic at their jobs. The dishwasher even found creative ways to stay clean and tidy.

The straw broke one night when my friend and I were both working the hostess stand on a packed Saturday night.

Manager: “Your hair is not compliant with the dress code! Both of you!”

Both of us had our hair pulled back in the requisite buns. However, we both had a few stray wisps. You know, those tiny little new hairs around your face. Never mind that it was August and it was hot and we were all working as a team like crazy to make sure the night ran smoothly, sharing duties such as bussing tables, and running food and drinks. He loudly fired both of us on the spot in front of the entire restaurant and front staff.

Manager: “You are required to continue to work for two weeks to train your replacements.”

Me: “Are we fired?”

Manager: “Yes.”

Me: “Firing means we don’t work for you anymore.”

We walked out, punched our cards, and went to change out of our uniforms. When we got out of the dressing room, there was a line of people waiting to change, including the busboys, half the waitstaff, and the dishwasher. All were so mad about what had happened that they had quit on the spot. No one liked the job, anyway.

We all went to another restaurant to eat, and we were soon joined by the rest of the waitstaff and the line cooks. So, all that was left of the entire restaurant staff was the bartender, the owner/cook, and the manager.

I later heard that the owner just decided to shut down the restaurant because the only reason he started it was to provide his son a legacy from the family businesses in Italy, and he decided his son couldn’t handle it.