Diagoberto Lopez
Restaurants are machines. There are many moving parts, and like a car, if you are missing one, they can collapse. The dishwasher is simultaneously the phantom of the restaurant machine and the crux of...
the hand that feeds you
Jessie Ting
The austere interior of FRIDA southwest is mostly silent aside from our quiet conversation and the distant din of kitchen prep. Sun cascades through the windows on a winter day, bouncing across the ivory white surfaces, while I listen and enjoy the mug of black coffee Jessie Ting brewed for me.
Mid-sentence, Jessie is interrupted by the buzzing of a phone. “Excuse me,” she says in a voice that almost sounds like an apology for having to split her time. Jessie slides out of our booth and goes to the wooden host stand behind us to answer. With no choice but to eavesdrop, I learn it’s an inquiry for a reservation. Her efficiency of communication makes it easy to read between the lines. “Can we get a reservation for 12 people this Saturday at 8pm?” Bing bang boom, within a minute, it’s all in the books and we’re back to talking. The phone rang a few more times during our hour, and each call was handled with the same effortless grace.
Jessie Ting is a reservation and front of house manager. She is the first and last person you will talk to most of the times you visit the establishments where she has worked. Hospitality is her first nature. Growing up in Sibu, a small but dense landlocked city in east Malaysia, she realized her calling at a young age.
“My father had a retail store I would help him with sometimes,” Jessie recalls. “I remember the first time I met an American guy — he could’ve been British, we call them ‘red hair’ in Asia, and we think they’re so beautiful because we only see them in movies, right? I sold him toothpaste and he said, ‘Thank you,’ and I thought that was so nice. He gives us some business and he tells me ‘Thank you’!”
In 1984, she moved to America to pursue an MBA in business, first landing in Missouri and then Tulsa. To pay for tuition, she began working in restaurants, starting as a hostess at a Chinese restaurant, and one summer working at that gig as well as a hamburger joint and a breakfast diner.
“The main thing is that I had to make a living working in a restaurant to survive in my college years, then I married a guy in the restaurant industry, and I realized that was my calling,” Jessie enthuses. “It’s a fun job, to be around people and get paid, greet my guests, I don’t think there’s a better job for me in this universe. I feel blessed.”
Host jobs are often misperceived as gigs for 16-year-olds who aren’t old enough to wait tables and serve booze. It’s a much more complicated and difficult position than many people realize, especially at elevated dining concepts. You have to be highly organized, not only perceptive of individual guests’ expectations, but able to coordinate them with the entire ship of servers, bartenders, chefs, and management.
“When I come in, I get my reservations on track, everybody that’s coming in. Some of my super-regulars prefer certain tables, they prefer certain tables, have allergies to some things. I print off a sheet of what they like and don’t like, then get the servers in order. A typical day to me, I don’t feel like I’m coming to work, I feel like I’m coming to a place I enjoy,” Jessie smiles.
It sounds clean and organized, but there are always fires to put out, whether it be servers calling out, last-minute big-tops of a dozen people who need to be accommodated, or customer service acrobatics to ensure guests are happy.
“You just need to listen. Everyone wants to be listened to. If they don’t like something, if they don’t feel like they are getting the perfect service they are paying for, I will do my very best,” Jessie insists. “If I ask them how everything is and they say, ‘It’s okay,’ that means there is something wrong. It has to be perfect.”
Sometimes, there are literal fires, and maybe not ones that come from your own kitchen.
“One night, Sauced across the street was on fire. It was a weekend, we were busy, and I see smoke coming out, fire engine — and I’ve got a full house,” Jessie laughs with the incredulity of someone recalling a particularly stressful situation. “I went in and told all our customers we should be okay, but if anything happens, we can get out safely through the back doors. They diminished the fire very fast, but our customers thought it was interesting. I’ve never really run into a situation I can’t handle.”
If the first and last person you see when you dine out knows your favorite table, remembers your shrimp allergy, and can give you the fire plan, all with a sincere and enduring smile, you are in the right place.
The phone rings again and it is time for Jessie Ting and I to part ways. I thank her for her time, and know that in my next visit to FRIDA, she’ll remember how I like my coffee.
> FRIDA southwest, 500 Paseo, Oklahoma City, (405) 683-7432, fridasouthwest.com
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