I've always thought it a brilliant idea that, before anyone is allowed to dine in a restaurant, one ought to be required to work in a food-service establishment for a minimum of three months.  One would then be issued a "license to eat out".  The reason?  Because only from working in a restaurant, could anyone truly understand the insanity of the workplace, and, therefore, be more likely to act like civilized humans towards the servers, bussers, cooks, hosts, etc., who try to fend off the daily rants and requests of unreasonable customers.

Now that I have seen the wonderful one-act, one-man play, Fully Committed, I think there is a viable alternative to my proposal.  The three-month licensing program could have a kind of "G.E.D." equivalent:  see this play!

Set in the basement office of a popular New York restaurant, the 1 hour, 20 minute show consists only of "Sam" and dozens of callers:  some trying to get a last-minute reservation, others asking only those unendingly-bizarre questions only those who have worked in a restaurant can truly appreciate (until now!) and still more who just seem to want to call and feel special.  

And that, it seems, is the underlying need of all restaurant-goers--to feel special.  

But, naturally, any desire to feel that way can end up in pitiful pathos, or hysterical hilarity, both of which glide in and out of a wonderfully-written play by former restaurant workers, Becky Mode (the author) and Mark Setlock (who starred in the original play and is listed as co-creator of the characters). 

(Now playing in regional playhouses, I saw the show at the Laguna Playhouse, starring Brian Beacock and directed by Nicholas Martin.)

Once over the jolt of seeing one actor portraying all of the voices, it becomes a joy to watch, as "Sam", sometimes effortlessly, other times with Herculean effort, juggles the unending needs of the glitterati, paparazzi, Mafioso, and even one memorable "AARP" member, who just can't understand how a restaurant could serve such small portions.

If you have ever answered a phone in a restaurant, you will laugh until you cry.  

Other themes, familiar to those of us "in the trenches", weave their way throughout, as well:  not being able to get Christmas off to see a loved one, a tyrannical chef who makes you do things even your mom never could, missing out on the staff meal, scurrying around trying to please a famous food critic, losing a reservation...

The only one I think they missed was the time someone insisted I pay for her nylons when they ran as she sat at her table.

Beneath the fun is a semi-tragic feeling that Sam doesn't deserve all of this, and that someday he's gonna get out of the restaurant business.  For those of us still in it, this may not be want we want to hear, as we continue with our Christmases, unspent with loved ones, our demanding senior citizens, who can't believe "they charged me for everything!", and our missives to clean the women's room floor, after someone missed the toilet with number two.

But the play also portrays that there is fun and excitement and, other than (perhaps!) the acting career that Sam is trying to develop, there may be no business like the restaurant business!