![]() ![]() His revenge: leaving his boss with all the lines of the phone lit up like angry red planets.īeing a fireball moving across such a tricky minefield is pretty exhausting work, and the smile of relief on Ferguson’s face at the curtain call was heartbreakingly big and genuine. All these plates of conflict keep spinning while his immediate superior is AWOL having a job interview at Bed, Bath and Beyond. Then there are the in-house battles that require refereeing-the snit-fit between the arrogant chef and the Bon Appetit editor who called his cuisine “edible dirt,” or the standoff between a belligerently persistent grande dame and the French maitre d’ who finds her just too ugly to talk to. (Gwyneth also doesn’t care to have any female wait staffer working her table.) Otherwise, the affable and eminently flappable Ferguson is deskbound in the boiler-room bowels of a super-chic restaurant in Lower Manhattan, a veritable Lord of the Rings fielding all sorts of impossible requests for “a nice table anywhere between 7:30 and 8.” Some customers have special needs beyond a reservation, like Gwyneth Paltrow’s personal assistant who says the star thought the lighting too harsh at her table last time and wants to send over a flunky with a bulb that’ll give off a warmer glow for her meal. Well, there is one pause you won’t want to know about-a bathroom break to clean up somebody else’s mess because all the busboys fled the building in horror. Tightly-wound and tightly-wired for action, he hits the ground running and doesn’t have a moment’s pause the whole performance, juggling the constant jingle-jangle of the reservations phone from indignant, impatient, demanding, entitled hoi polloi. ![]()
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