When I married my husband, in the back of my mind, owning our own restaurant was not out of the question. He had been graduated from the local culinary school and was working at one of the casino restaurants for several years; owning your own place is part of the dream when you are learning about how to sharpen knife blades in your basics class. As a legal secretary for a high-profile, type-A attorney, owning a café seemed like a port in the storm. In hindsight, I realize now it is just a different port and the weather conditions differ ever so slightly.
When we began seeking a location, I submitted every place we considered to God in prayer. There were seemingly good choices that held our interest, but for *whatever* reason, they didn’t pan out. When we found our present location, my husband practically pleaded with me to stop "saying that prayer…" I didn’t listen (I am stubborn that way) and as God would have it, we signed a lease and have been at it now for almost six years.
My husband and I learned by baptism under fire what it really meant to own our own business – from choosing purveyors to fresh flower selections to trends in dining (yes, even in a breakfast & lunch restaurant). Our most immediate concern when we first opened was staffing and to be honest, it still is. What we didn’t take into consideration is how close we’d feel to our employees – we simply never expected to. Business is business, right? Most would answer "yes." We are a quaint "mom & pop" establishment and while we try to keep our emotions out of our business management, for the most part we do. However, in the relatively short amount of time we have operated the café, we’ve struggled through storms of a different sort; trials and tribulations that would make anyone stop in their tracks and reconsider what it is they are doing and why they are doing it.
From the odd request such as banana & feta cheese hotcakes to mustard for one’s blueberry pancakes) to people simply becoming emotional over undercooked eggs, we feel as though we have "heard it all," or at least a lot of it.
What I was chagrined to discover is that the restaurant business is a bit fickle as it pertains to employee loyalty, especially (seemingly) in the area of kitchen help. We’ve had some prep cooks work for a week and not return for their pay. One employee had his cousin call him in "sick," because he had returned to Mexico to "feed his cows." One prospect came in so inebriated (at 8:00 a.m.) we had to call the authorities to escort him home as he was in no condition to drive; it was but for the grace of God he made it to work in the first place. In short, we had found it to be a rare commodity in someone who was (a) willing to do good work and (b) actually "show up."
One such person was Nick.
Nicholas McGinnis worked for us the summer of 2001. He was a 17 year-old high school student who was *book* smart and a tremendous joy to be around because he had an easy smile and a great attitude. During that summer, we planned on a "Cafe night out at the Surf," which meant we sponsored a section at our local triple-a baseball team's stadium (the Atlantic City Surf) for our employees and customers. It was a running joke for a few weeks leading up to the game between Nick, my husband and me – Nick would say (usually without provocation) "I don't want to go," "baseball is stupid," "Can I bring a pillow in case I doze off?" Every single time, we'd say "Nick, you are part of the family, you have to go." He'd laugh and then come up with another excuse.
On the evening of the game, and due to a flash summer storm that lasted (in retros
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