30/04/2018
Here is the written monologue:
The Cheese and Wines of Julius Caesar
(LFX 1: Restaurant Interior)
Oh, Hello hello, it’s the Rodriguez’s! And the grandkids! Cool. Well it is so nice to see your faces again here at Taste of Rome (although I’m almost tired of yours Arnie) (scanning the reservation list) but I’m not seeing a reservation for tonight. Ummm, shoot, and we’re all booked up tonight. But not to worry, the staff is working quickly to put something nice together for you! Now I know it won’t be your regular table, but I can offer you a bottle of wine and dessert on the house for the inconvenience—Trebbiano, right Teresa? Alright! Alright. Alright. Just give me one second I’m gonna check on your table.
(goes upstage) When, Lucius, when? (returns to the couples)
Sorry about that, just had to swing the sword a bit. (beat) Umm, just curious, did you happen to see that ridiculous Buzzfeed article? (to the grandkids) Oh, you did. Well let me catch up your grandparents. Caesar is no longer the owner of this establishment. I am. But don’t you worry because I am working my hardest to uphold our number one spot on Trip Adviser, and you can expect the same quality of service you’re used to—better in fact! (again to the grandkids) Look, I know that article says some…harsh things about me and compares me to that sketchy new owner of Taste of Jerusalem, but you can ask your grandparents, whom I’ve known for three years—I am not that guy. I didn’t want to own this place and I’ve always put my customers first, which is why I had to take ownership of this restaurant. So please forget that s**t article! Caesar was my friend and I loved him.
Arnie, Teresa, have I ever told you how Caesar and I met? (beat) Five years ago I used to work in a run-down, s**t-hole of a steak house just a couple of blocks from here, Farnesi’s. The place was…a memory in monotone. And then Caesar walked in.
It’s a Wednesday afternoon and I’m fresh into the shift and only Cal and I are working—this was before we started dating. And the place is practically empty because, who goes to a steakhouse for lunch, right? But this middle-aged, balding guy marches in like he owns the place. He’s not wearing a suit, but he’s dressed nicely enough—pewter slacks and a crimson button down with the sleeves rolled halfway up, and he just oozes…I don’t know…gravitas. So naturally I walk towards him, to seat him, when my pompous prick of a boss comes out of the kitchen and tells me, “Let Portia take this one.” I don’t mind because I’m fond of her. And Portia can get a businessman to spend more on a meal than he ever would spend on his child’s tuition. So she goes to seat him, but he just shakes his head no at her and points right at me. He beckons me to come over. So I do. And He’s smiling, like when your parents know you’re lying but they play along. He gestures at Portia and says:
“Trying to rack up my bill, huh?”
I smile and shrug like, “What can you do?”
He says, “Hey, don’t worry about it. I know how it goes. Just bring me a coke and the 12 ounce sirloin, then sit your ass down.”
So I go and put the order in and sit with him. He explains that he’s the owner of this place and how they’re looking for new people, that Farnesi’s will shut down in a month—which it did—and that he likes how I carry myself in such a respectable and honorable way. He finishes, gets up, stretches, sneers into my eyes and says “I came, I ate, I employed a new waiter.” But then genuinely, “When you come, just ask for Caesar.”
That was the Caesar I knew and loved. A man full of confidence that believed in me after only one meeting, that taught me how to increase my covers without compromising service, that led by example and put his customers and staff before himself. That Caesar you knew and loved and took wine recommendations from. But that Caesar ceased to exist, because of his ambition. There was an opportunity to incorporate the restaurant and make it a chain. And the quality of service that we pride ourselves on here at Taste of Rome started to suffer because Caesar was so preoccupied with the expansion. One of his new policies took fifty percent of our tips for the company and we were told not to worry about great service or tips, but to just “Get as many asses in those chairs as quickly as possible.” He was also going to change the name of the place to “A Taste of Caesar.” I thought about customers like you, Arnie, Teresa, that are loyal to this establishment, that have created many memories here, that deserve better. Let me go and check on your table, I’ll be right back.
(he notices something and is thrown off, light change LFX 2: Caesar’s Ghost)
(rubs eyes) What the hell? Caesar? Was this to be one of your changes? Blue is not good lighting for a restaurant. You fu**ed with the booking list, didn’t you? I’ve had to work the hell out of the Rodriguez’s to make sure that we—that I—don’t lose their loyalty. (beat) I signed the papers. I didn’t want to, but I did. To keep up the legacy you created, that you taught me to uphold. That you tried to destroy. What for, Caesar? Money? Fame? You were at the top and I was right there beside you! And now…I don’t know. If you were going through something you could have told me, I would have listened. (beat) I should have asked you what was wrong. I wanted to ask you what was wrong but I got so caught up with my own s**t and trying to manage the staff while you were gone, I… S**t!
(LFX 3: Return to Restaurant Interior, rubs eyes again)
Caesar? (beat) Uh…sorry guys, I um. Did you see? Never mind. (pulls out pen from apron like a sword and begins to take off his apron)I’m so sorry I’ve got to…I have some…I need to go. I’ll go get Mark, he’ll take care of you tonight. (taps pen against his torso) I hope to see you next time, yeah? Have a lovely evening.
