“I'd like 4 lemon tarts," the old man demanded, while tapping his finger on the pastry case I JUST Windexed.
“We only have 3 left," I replied dryly.
(Y'know, the way us New Yorkers do to signal don't-fuck-with-me-because-I-don't-have-time-and-also-don't-care-enough-to-fight-with-you-right-now.)
“Well, I'd like four.”
You see, this man was a regular, and I hated his guts. My coworkers and I called him “Lemon Tart Man".
He was rude. He often made misogynist comments. And he made excellent conversation fodder for our post-shift drink.
If you've ever worked in a restaurant before, then you know how important the post-shift drink is. It's ritual. Whether you have yours at the bar of your own establishment and chat with the folks who are still on-shift, or you're all going together somewhere else after closing time, it's an incredibly important bonding experience.
In fact, when I think about my favorite early 20's memories, I'm often thinking of a post-shift drink.
At the time, all I wanted was to be able to quit that job, never lay my eyes upon Lemon Tart Man again, and use my creative skills to help people & make money.
And now that I'm doing all those things, I miss the post-shift drink. Sooooo bad.
Now don't get me wrong—I wouldn't trade what I have now for the world. But also, no one tells you how isolating entrepreneurship can be. How difficult creating community is when camaraderie isn't automatically built into your job.
Therefore, I dub this summer the Summer of Community. (Everywhere, but espeeeeeeeecially IRL.)
If you're a fellow entrepreneur, freelancer, or creative in the NYC area and you are also missing a sense of community in your life rn, reply to this email and let me know! I am trying to HANGGGG!