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We are blessed with a lot of repeat customers at The Restaurant. And I am very blessed with the kind of memory that allows me to remember what they had the last time they were in, and to know exactly how they like their food. Whether they come in 3 times a week or 1, I can tell you exactly what they had, and will even call those I know well enough to tell them when we are serving a special I know they will love. That is the upside to my personality...I have so very few... and it always amazes people that I will know exactly what they want before they even order.

It's a habit I picked up way back when - back before I moved to Crazy Town and decided I really loved cooking for people. I put myself through college by working retail. A career I considered while wearing big shoulder pads until I was able to rid my system of such an awful thought, and the hairspray-induced brain damage of the 80's finally cleared up.

No offense to all of you still working retail. It is an awesome and honorable profession - if you like working with people. Or, you know, if you like being nice to them.

Anyway.

To be a little more specific about my retail endeavor, I worked in a specialty store selling men's clothing. And I loved it. Men are very low maintenance. They need pants, they buy pants. They don't try on 42 pair, complain of bloat and leave the store depressed. They just buy the pants. And maybe some socks. Or perhaps a skinny tie or two - and that Don Johnson Miami Vice inspired cotton jacket in light blue. And we did have the very demanding and particular customers, but we tolerated them because they were few and far between and - I will be honest - they spent a lot of money.

We had it all - pants, shirts, suits, leather jackets, shoes, ties, some Pierre Cardin tuxedos... accessories like tie pins and wallets, money clips... and underwear. That was always interesting. The White Brief guys and The Cotton Boxer guys didn't care much. Up on the counter they went - a little chit chat - and they were out the door. But the men who forayed into the 'specialty bottoms' made of silk, or with the words "French Cut" and "Bikini" in the title were a little more - discreet. There was always a pause by the display - a casual look from side to side - and a pair of pants thrown over the arm to cover the purchase. And I never thought much of it until I started seeing these men around town and would think to myself, "I know what kind of underwear he's wearing..." It was a very interesting time for a young girl with big hair and a penchant for the Bartles and James Wine Coolers.

Underwear aside, it really was a fun time. My boss was fantastic, and the bulk of our customers were repeat customers and we got to know them on a friendly basis. Which actually made it hard for me to leave retail knowing I would miss seeing them. But I would never miss the Christmas Rush...or having to be so nice all the time without having the fortress of a kitchen to hide in.

So last week at a Trick we were in the rush of service when a man came in the kitchen to ask for a towel. He had spilled his water on his wife's dress and was kind of in a panic. We grabbed him a bar towel and out he went. When he came back in he was very grateful, and then he paused to look at me in that "I think I know you" kind of way. And then I recognized him and at the same time we said, "It is you!" We had a little chit chat - 'What a blast from the past, time flies, good to see you, I see you are no longer selling men's pants, I see you are still wearing men's pants...blah blah blah.'

When he left The Partner asked who that was. And I realized I had forgotten his first name, so I told her the only thing I did know, "That was Blue Striped Bikinis."

Good times.

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