Those of you who have visited our Chestnut Street location since we opened are probably very familiar with our busser Manny. But I don’t think you know how I got to know him.
About 5 years ago, I received a call from friend in the restaurant business. He told me that he had a good lunch busser that was looking to pick up some dinner shifts and asked me to please give his guy a shot. I didn’t have anything available at the time, but good people are hard to find and restaurant schedules are in a constant state of flux. So I gave this guy named Manuel Ramirez a call.
Manny, As Always, Smiling and Perfect
The next day, like fate, Misael—my super star, amazing, rock star busser from heaven—got sick and needed to take a week off. Manny stepped in, working his first dinner bussing shift for me at my now defunct restaurant Laïola. Though he was kind, Manny, as a worker, was clunky, hyperactive, and sweaty—a bull in a china closet. He barely spoke any English and didn’t have the patience to listen to my broken Spanish, trying to explain what I needed him to do. No matter how many times I asked him to chill and focus, his reply was always the same: “Ok, Yo (which is still how he pronounces my name), ok”, and go right back to doing the same way. It was a tough week.
Thankfully, Misael had a great immune system and after a few painful (much more so for me than him) days away, returned to his duties leaving Manny out of a job. I told Manny that I’d call him if I ever needed him again and thanked him for his efforts. The truth was though that I couldn’t wait to be rid of him and vowed that no matter what, even if I had to bus the damned tables myself, I would never call Manny again.
The day after after Manny’s dismissal, he called me. “Yo, you need me work?” To which I said, “No Manny, I’ll call you if I need you.” The day after that, he called again. “Yo, you need me? I’m a good worker, Yo. I work really, really hard.” And of course I replied, “Thanks Manny, I’m good. I WILL CALL YOU IF I NEED YOU.”
I got this same call every day for a week. If I didn’t answer, he’d call back. He was like the worst bill collector you can imagine, and he wasn’t going to stop until I paid. Finally, I caved.
Manny: Una Persona Muy Especial Para Mi
Time went on and Manny and I found some common ground. I began to realize that though he was totally spastic, his intentions were great and that his goal in every crazy move he made, was to make sure that our guests were well-looked after and that his work area was always spotless.
As the economy started in slow in 2009, Laïola started to really suffer. Business began to dwindle and our once well-paid service staff began to look elsewhere for more consistent paying work. But Manny only stepped up his much improved game and became my rock. He was the one person that, no matter how bad things got, showed up ready to give our customers the best service he could muster.
On December 31st, 2009, Laiola went out of business and I was broke, tired and terrified. We had decided to turn the restaurant into Tacolicious, which had just been a whimsical taco stand at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market until that point. Some of my staff found other jobs, some people went on vacation waiting for me to open Tacolicious. Manny came to work. Working with me from morning to night, he sanded, he stained and he painted.
You probably know that Sara and I have recently opened our second Tacolicious and adjacent tequila bar, Mosto, on Valencia Street. You might have heard about our beautiful Mexican cement tile or ceiling of Mason 3,000-plus jars. If you haven’t yet, I urge you to pop in for a bite and a glance at their beauty. When you do, know that Manny was at the Mission location, just like on Chestnut, at my side, sanding, painting, staining, screwing in jars, building tables and putting his caring touch on every little detail of this space.
Next month, my family and I are going to Tulum, one of our favorite places in the world. As fate has it, Manny is from Playa del Carmen, a beach community just an hour north. As we were spot-grouting the tile floors in our new, Valencia Street location yesterday morning, I asked Manny if he could please call his dad and let him know that I’ll be visiting soon. I can’t wait to have a beer with Manny’s father. I can’t wait to tell him just how much his son—my friend—has enriched my life and become the heart of our business. I’ll take lots of pictures to keep you all in the loop.